I heard a funny story that, I think, actually happened, probably a few decades ago. A couple of girls go into a jewelry store, and they tell the saleswoman they want to buy cross necklaces. Crosses were very fashionable back in the 90’s, thanks to Madonna. The young saleswoman takes the girls to the glass counter where all the crosses are displayed, and she tells them, “There are different kinds. Do you want a plain one or do you want one with a little man on it?”
I guess she didn’t know who the little man was. We do, don’t we? Even though Presbyterians do not have crosses with the little man on them, also known as a crucifix, we know who he is.
And we know that Christ did not stay on the cross. He died on the cross, but he did not stay dead. He was resurrected on the third day, and so Presbyterians believe that the empty cross is a better symbol of our faith than the cross with the little man on it.
In fact, some go so far as to say maybe the cross is not a good symbol at all. The cross reminds us of his death, but we ought to have a symbol that reminds us of his resurrection. The empty tomb, for example.
We know that story, too. On the third day after his crucifixion, early in the morning, some of the women went to the tomb for the purpose of tending to his body in the ways they hadn’t been able to on Friday. And when they arrived there, they found the stone rolled away from the entrance, and the body of Jesus gone. There was an angel there who told them, “He is not here.” He has arisen.
And it is this story that leads some Christians to think, why are we even wearing crosses? Why not little empty tombs? Isn’t that more meaningful?
I remember one year when the worship committee chair for the church I was serving was ordering some special bulletin covers for Easter. She decided she really liked one that pictured the empty tomb. It was a lovely soft-focus photo of a cave entrance, on a beautiful sunny morning. It was fine, I didn’t pay a lot of attention.
It wasn’t until Easter morning when I saw all the bulletins in the sanctuary, with the words printed over the picture, “He is not here.” And I realized “He is not here” is definitely not the message I want to give today.
He is not on the cross. Nor is he in the tomb, but Christ is everywhere, and this is the truth we receive from the Easter stories in the scriptures. In the gospels there are many stories of the resurrected Christ coming to his disciples: on the road, sitting at table, in the upper room, on the beach, in the garden, on the mountain. He’s like that old country song, “I’ve been everywhere, man, I’ve been everywhere.” Only, unlike Johnny Cash, Christ really has been everywhere and truly is everywhere. The poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins, wrote “Christ plays in ten thousand places.” He is everywhere.
And the encounter we hear about today from Luke’s gospel is a part of a larger story about that first day of resurrection. We are still on that first day – even though it is the third Sunday of Easter, we are still dwelling in that first day when the women found the tomb empty and ran back to tell the others.
Last Sunday we heard the Gospel of John’s account of the evening of that first day, when Christ came through a locked door to see the disciples in the upper room. But Luke tells us about other events from that day, tells things a bit differently.
Earlier in the day, after the word began to spread about the tomb being empty, two of Christ’s disciples were walking to another town called Emmaus, about seven miles outside Jerusalem. As they walked and talked together about all the things that had happened the past three days, another man joined them on the road. When he asked them, “what are you guys talking about,” they stopped dead in their tracks. Their faces filled with grief; it was as if they were experiencing it all over again. They said to him, “Are you the only person in Jerusalem who did not hear about this?” So they began to tell this stranger everything about Jesus of Nazareth, the one whom they had hoped would be the redeemer of Israel. But now, they said, he was crucified. And what’s more, they learned this morning that his body is missing from the tomb.
And the stranger, very patiently, began to explain the scriptures to them as they walked. The two disciples are in the grip of his story when they arrive at an inn. They urge the stranger to join them – it is late, let us rest from our travels and continue our conversation. They go into the inn and together sit at table for their evening meal. Then the stranger took the bread, he blessed it and broke it and then their eyes were opened to him. Yes, it was the risen Christ who had walked with them from Jerusalem.
And in that instant of recognition, he vanished. The two disciples say to one another, “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” Now they are no longer tired, or weighed down with grief, and they get back on the road, walk those seven miles back to Jerusalem, back to the other disciples to tell them what just happened. When they arrive, they find that he has appeared to some others as well, so they share their stories with one another, including those who have not yet seen the risen Christ.
And this is where we are in the passage for today. These are the things the disciples are talking about when, once again, Jesus is there. And the text says, “While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering,” so Jesus suggests they eat. Because food always helps, doesn’t it?
Once again, the risen Christ appears. As he has before and will again. Christ plays in ten thousand places.
He appears to his followers on the road. in the upper room. on the beach. across a table. in the garden. on the mountain. Every appearance is a special and meaningful event, but the one that I find the most meaningful is sharing a meal together.
Table fellowship always was important for Jesus. The gospels chronicle Jesus’ table fellowship with all kinds of sinners and saints. The Pharisees and the prostitutes and the tax collectors, the upper-class and the lower-class, the powerful and the powerless. He shared a two-top with Zacchaeus and he held impromptu picnics for thousands of diners in the open air. He was sometimes the guest and sometimes the host, but either way, table fellowship with Jesus was always surprising. When Jesus shared a table with someone, lives were changed. And it still happens, all the time.
There is a wonderful scene in the film It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood where we see this beautiful mystery. Mr. Rogers is sitting at a table in a crowded restaurant with a journalist named Lloyd. Mr. Rogers asks Lloyd to take a moment and just think about someone who helped make him the person he is – or, in Mr. Rogers words, someone who loved him into being. For the next full minute, the film is silent. The camera shows us the faces of all the people who are in that restaurant. As they sit across the table from their dining partner, we see that they are all having this same experience – the transformative experience of being loved into being.
I don’t quite know why; I just know that sharing a meal with someone can be meaningful in ways you don’t expect. It was a major part of Jesus’ ministry, and so it is quite fitting that it would also be a key part of his resurrection stories.
This is why I think that a good symbol of our faith is a table. Just an ordinary table that people can gather around and share food. Because when we do this, beautiful and amazing things can happen.
