Be like the fox, who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Berry’s poem warns us against trusting too much in the predictable. There is a conventional wisdom that says “dead is dead”, and these disciples bound for home in little Emmaus were keeping to the story that they knew best. Jesus had died, thanks to the usual suspects among the authorities of the day (religious and imperial alike) who were used to dealing out death to those who questioned too much the status quo. Jesus had inspired them, given them hope, but now that the turbulent time in Jerusalem was over, the disciples were trudging away from Jerusalem, mournful, bleak, and chastened by bitter reality.
It is an odd scene to follow the Resurrection story. In the early rays of morning, the tomb is empty, and the risen Christ is encountered. Break out the alleluias and start spreading the news! Sound the trumpets and begin the dance.
Yet here are two disciples who have missed the story. They heard the women who Jesus sent out with the news, but they dismiss the stories as “idle tales”. It’s late afternoon on Easter, but these folks are moping about, tired from the stress and the anxiety of the past few days and resigned to the fate that the story never changes.
They encounter a fellow traveler down the road, and they begin sharing their sorrow and resignation with this stranger. The joke for Luke’s audience, however, is that the stranger is the risen Christ, yet these two do not see him for who he really is. Here is a bit of hilarity to the story to go along with the plot twist of what happened earlier that day back in Jerusalem.
Jesus teaches them the stories of scripture, bringing the faithful testimony of the past to bear on the incredible present that His resurrection brings. One might wonder why Jesus keeps up the guise of stranger. It will be all the way to Emmaus and even at the dinner table before something dawns on these two disciples.
For starters, Luke’s gospel trades not on “obvious” things. To understand Luke, recall the story of the Prodigal Son. The obvious thing would be to let that prodigal go off and party hard, and then be allowed to slink back in contrition. Instead, the father embraces that child, puts on a big celebration, and he ensures that the child is fully back in the household. When I deal with pastoral care issues regarding family dynamics, I know more often than not that this parable seems more “flight of fancy” than “what really happened” in stories of families dealing with conflict and estrangement. But I still want the less “obvious” outcome to happen—that is my prayer for all families and relationships: that God’s grace will be experienced and practiced abundantly, even if it doesn’t seem like the most obvious option or outcome!
Now, you would think that a refresher course in Bible 101 taught by Jesus himself would get these two disciples to realize Jesus was in their midst. Even this study of Scriptures did not break through their resolve that Resurrection was “an idle tale”. Jesus was about ready to go onwards when they reached Emmaus, but they invited him to stay. Jesus took the opportunity to show them one more time.
Hear again Wendell Berry’s poetic lines:
Be like the fox, who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
This may seem an odd comment, but I believe that grocery lists might not seem a common topic for sermons to include, however, I am certain more than a few grocery lists have been made while listening to sermons. On most grocery lists, you might list a few things with specificity (i.e. need Prego pasta sauce) but other things you would list simply as “need bread”. Most of us have our favorite brand of bread. Others of us just play the market, grabbing whatever is on sale. After all, it’s only bread….
Bread can seem perfunctory, as my late Grandmother Hugenot noted on her weekly grocery list: “Need milk, bread, and spuds”. I have learned that there is “bread” and then there’s “bread”. European bread is wonderful. Brand X white bread is terrible, even with the amazing taste of Miracle Whip. Bread is either “just there” on the table, or it is an experience in itself.
Jesus took bread, he gave thanks, he broke bread, and he gave it to his disciples. To our ears, that sounds all very familiar. To Luke’s audience as well, the idea of Jesus presiding at table, making fellowship possible between an often-divergent crowd of folks is very much the story of Jesus as told by Luke. Yet, in that quite familiar (and perhaps even “mundane”) moment of getting ready to eat around the table, something happened.
In one of the churches I grew up in, there was a lady named Anna Brown, who was one of those quiet saints. She never said a cross word, very even keel and wonderful, and she was also gifted with making dinner rolls that flew from the little basket she brought them in fresh from the oven (she lived across the street from the church). My recollections of Anna are all uniform: she tended those in need, she practiced gracious ways, and you felt a better person in her presence. I look back on those memories and now realize something else: she mirrored a bit of the Christ and her strong belief in Christ’s ways shaped her profoundly. Something wondrous over the years had happened over the years in this woman's life, shaped by Word and Table, so much so that I could glimpse the Christ in her.
And Wendell Berry’s poem becomes clearer:
Be like the fox, who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
The resurrection of Jesus is a story that refuses to be tamed down, whether you think you know it by heart or you’ve seen most any Jesus-related film possible, or looked at the wealth of paintings and other art depicting the resurrection. The astonishing tale that would kick a group of disciples from “idle” to “bold” in their tales of Christ and his teachings to the ends of the earth. The gospel of Luke and its sequel the Book of Acts really depends on the contrary-minded moments of two disciples “seeing” Jesus through the breaking of bread. You will either perceive this moment as bizarre religious wishful thinking or a sublime moment that opens up the prospect of a different story at work than “conventional wisdom” can opine.
The stories of Easter as told by the gospels are all contrary-minded stories. Like the fox, the Easter faith makes what seems like illogical tracks across the world “as we know it,” sometimes appearing to go right across the deeply rutted pathway of “the way things are”. The Emmaus story moves us along a different sort of journey, a trail that is always being blazed by ardent pilgrims who wish to see an Easter faith take root in an otherwise gloomy world. The story here points to a world where the mundane can unveil the mystical, where resurrection is not a term in a dictionary, but an entire way of life. “Practice resurrection” is shorthand for the faithful to take notice and be encouraged by the life-giving power of God that shakes our world from its complacency. May life abundant be the new tale upon our hearts and minds.
Let’s celebrate that story via Wendell Berry’s wise words:
Be like the fox, who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Alleluia! AMEN!
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