"Dumb" Questions, Faithful Answers

John 14:1-14

[Jesus said,] “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go there to prepare a place for you, I will come again to take you to myself, so that where I am, there you will be also. And you know the way to the place that I am going.”

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father, also. And from now on you do know him and you have seen him.”

Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and still you do not know me? Whoever has seen me, has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father?’ Do you not believe that the Father is in me and that I am in the Father? These words that I say to you I do not speak on my own, but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and that the Father is in me. But if you do not, believe because of the works themselves.

“Very truly I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name so that the Father might be glorified in the Son. If, in my name, you ask for anything, I will do it.”

---

Since it’s NBA playoff season, I came across what is apparently a phenomenon in the world of the NBA post-game press conference: dumb questions, asked by sports writers of NBA players, after a game. There are compilations of them all over YouTube, but I found this one – kind of short and sweet – thanks to Jimmy Kimmel.

So, we’ve all heard, I suspect, that “there’s no such thing as a dumb question.” I’ve said it before, in classes and Bible studies and whatnot; to adults and kids; to other people’s kids and my own, I’m sure. And it’s mostly true. If they are genuine and heartfelt and curious, there really is no such thing as a dumb question. This is the way any good teacher should approach a student; how any mentor should engage a protégé; any guide should embrace a follower; any messiah should encourage a disciple, maybe. But some people – kids and adults alike – and apparently sports writers and reporters after an NBA basketball game – put that notion to the test? (I’m looking at every teacher who’s ever had a Class Clown in their midst. And anyone who’s ever been the Class Clown, too.) There really can be dumb questions waiting to surprise even the most patient teacher or player among us.

Anyway, I kind of wonder if Jesus wasn’t thinking something along these lines when he was being questioned by Thomas and Phillip in this morning’s Gospel. I’m not sure you could call them “Class Clowns,” but Jesus seems sort of surprised, if not exasperated … maybe even disappointed … by their questions.

Jesus offers up what seems to be a preconceived notion, a no brainer, something he expected they would have understood. He’s like, “And you know the way to the place where I am going.” But Thomas gives us our first hint about his doubting ways when he wants to know more. “Lord, we don’t know where you’re going. How can we know the way?” He wants a little more clarity, it seems. As is his way.

Phillip wants to see something else, too … something more, something different, something better than what he’s already witnessed. “Lord, show us the Father and we will be satisfied,” he asks. “Come on Jesus, just show us this ‘Father’ you’ve been praying to and talking about and that’ll do it. Just make it clear and we’ll know … it’ll all make sense … then we’ll be satisfied. That will finally make all the difference.”

And Jesus is like, “Guys. You’ve seen it. Don’t you know? Remember when I turned that water into wine? Remember when I drank from the well with that woman in Samaria? Remember when I saved the life of that boy who was sick and that time I helped that lame guy walk after 38 years? Remember when I turned that other kid’s lunch into a feast for 5,000 people? And when I stood up for that woman who was caught in adultery? When I gave that blind man his sight and raised Lazarus from the dead? Remember when I washed your feet, for crying out loud! Have I been with you all this time, Phillip, and still you don’t know me? You still Don’t get it? You still don’t understand? You still don’t see?

In Jesus, what had been invisible could now be seen. In Jesus, the power and presence of God showed up living and moving and breathing, in the world. In Jesus the divine who had here-to-for been unknown became knowable. In Jesus, so many of our questions turned into living, moving, breathing answers.

And the questions weren’t answered by well-crafted sermons, or by theological treatises; by Q & A sessions in between worship services, or with crystal balls, either. Jesus answered the questions of his day and age by all of that living and moving and breathing … by being in the world. I think this is why the disciples didn’t always get it and I think it’s why we miss the point sometimes, ourselves.

Questions about grace were answered when Jesus forgave the unforgivable and welcomed the outsiders others refused to make room for.

Questions about mercy were answered when Jesus healed the sick and shared bread with the hungry.

Questions about justice were answered when Jesus spoke out against the hypocrites and turned over tables in the temple; when he empowered women, welcomed children into his presence, and when he broke bread with outcasts and sinners.

Questions about love were answered by the cross and questions about God’s power over all things were answered by the empty tomb.

What I get out of today’s Gospel – and the questions the disciples raise – is not simple answers, which are always tempting and maybe what we’d prefer. What I get out of this morning’s Gospel is a different way of finding answers. Jesus didn’t sit around arguing about who might be right and who might be wrong. He didn’t debate the theological merits of the questions the disciples were asking. And Jesus didn’t shout the answers or scream the instructions IN. ALL. CAPS. from behind a keyboard, by way of a post on social media.

Jesus became the lessons his life was meant to teach. He practiced and personified the way, and the truth, and the life of faith everyone wanted to know more about.

Jesus didn’t just talk about grace – he extended it to anyone and everyone.

Jesus didn’t just offer up “thoughts and prayers” about justice – he worked for it.

Jesus didn’t just dream about mercy – he shared it.

Jesus didn’t just sit in worship or around tables to read and study God’s Word for his own benefit – he preached and proclaimed it; he passed it around and poured it out in the form of himself, like so much bread and wine, to whoever would receive it.

Jesus didn’t just preach about the love of God, I mean. He embodied it.

And that’s our call, too – for ourselves, for each other, and for the world around us.

This morning, we’re sharing “first communion” with some of our young people and we’re baptizing Clive Blackmon, too. Like Thomas and Phillip, these young people can and should come to us with all kinds of questions about the place and presence and power of God in their lives and in this world.

And I hope they will learn from all of us – not just by what we say and teach and preach, even – but by what they see, feel and experience about the lives of faith they witness among us. They will learn about grace by who and how we forgive one another. They will learn about generosity and sacrifice by why and how much we give of our time, our energy and our money, too. They will learn about justice and service by the work we do in the world. They will learn about love by those we welcome among us.

And so will we.

This can be hard, holy work, for sure. But Jesus promises that we’re up for it … that as believers we will do even greater works than his own. And I believe that, along the way, we will reveal and receive answers about our own faith – maybe even the ones we can’t always put into words – when we live and move and breathe as the very body of Christ – as the very love of God – as the very presence of the divine – in the world, and for the sake of the world, in the name of Jesus who showed us how to do it all in the first place.

Amen

On the Road with Cleopas

Luke 24:13-35

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and they were talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad.

Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him saying, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place.

“Moreover, some women from our group astounded us. They went to the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.”

Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?

That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

---

I love the Jesus we meet on the road to Emmaus, because he seems kind of strange … mysterious, for sure … and – I think – a little bit punchy after a couple of days in the grave. I figure he must be as surprised as you and me to realize that these two guys on the road don’t recognize him right away – even after walking and talking with him for quite a while, as the story goes. But I like that he’s patient and maybe even a little bit playful about that.

Like when Cleopas seems to get an attitude and asks Jesus, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn’t know about the things that have taken place there in these days?” And Jesus is like, “What things?” You can almost see the smirk on his face, right? “Tell me what you know, Mr. Smarty Pants.” And I like to think my savior has a sense of humor – I’m kind of banking on it, actually.

But, I think there’s more to it than Jesus just being funny and playing games.

For me, this story of the walk to Emmaus is a microcosm of our faith’s journey as individuals and as the people of God, collectively. And, I’ve had a handful of conversations lately about looking for, and finding, and recognizing God in the world around us – and about how hard that can be sometimes. And what I find is that many of us – myself included – are inclined to the same kind of cynicism that Cleopas and his friend seem to hold onto.

Jesus calls them “foolish and slow of heart to believe,” after all, because when they’re confronted with the resurrected Christ – in the flesh – they don’t recognize him and they neglect to connect the dots between all they’d learned about him, and they recount for Jesus all the reasons why God’s Easter Good news wasn’t true. (“our chief priests handed him over… he was crucified… it’s been three days… some women said they talked to angels… some men confirmed he wasn’t there… he’s dead and gone and nowhere to be found… he was supposed to redeem Israel … and so on.)

And I don’t blame them, because I’m a lot like Cleopas and his friend more often than I’d like to admit. Standing still, I mean. Looking and feeling and being sad so much of the time … about the state of things and the way of the world around us.

To be honest, if Jesus approached me on the road – most days – I’m afraid I wouldn’t even stop to chat, let alone invite him over for dinner. Because I’m too busy… because I have more important places to be… because he won’t look like I expect him to look, I’m guessing.

But assuming I was having a good day and did at least stop for a chat, I’m afraid I’d sound a lot like Cleopas. I’m afraid my first inclination would be to rain on Jesus’ resurrection parade. “Are you the only stranger in town who doesn’t know?” “Have you not been paying attention?” “Do you not see or understand what the hell is been going on around here?” And I’d be happy to cite some examples that would be no surprise to Jesus:

We’ve all heard about the spate of innocent people being shot in the last week or so … that Black boy who rang the wrong white man’s doorbell in Missouri; those cheerleaders who opened the wrong car door at the grocery store in Texas; that other young woman who pulled into the wrong driveway in New York.

6 people were shot in Indianapolis in just 11 hours on Wednesday. And three of them didn’t survive.

There have been something like 75 tornado-related deaths in the world this spring and 64 of those people died in the United States. There were only 32 deaths worldwide, and just 23 in the U.S. in all of 2022 – which means those numbers have more than doubled already. It seems like there might be something to this whole “Climate Change” thing, after all.

I saw a public service announcement yesterday that said the phrase “Hitler was right” was posted on social media platforms more than 70,000 times last year.

And of course, there’s Russia, Ukraine, Sudan, Yemen, Israel, Palestine, and Haiti – war and death and despair on top of war and death and despair on top of war and death and despair.

And the list goes on. Our parents are dying or in the hospital. Our kids are struggling in ways we can’t fix. Not everyone got invited to the prom. Jobs have been lost. The tumors aren’t shrinking. Relationships are falling apart.

So it’s a short walk for me, from the empty tomb of Easter’s joy to the real world of that Emmaus Road, where all of that Good News turns into something hard to swallow, and even harder to celebrate a lot of the time. Like I said, just like Cleopas, I’d probably look Jesus in the eye and ask, “Are you the only one around here who doesn’t know about the things that have taken place here in these days?”

But the beautiful thing about Jesus on the road with Cleopas and his friend – and the beautiful thing about Jesus on the road with the likes of you and me – is that he is no stranger to any of it. He just keeps showing up – walking… and listening… and patiently waiting for us to do the same…walking and listening and paying attention, I mean, until we see what has been and what continues to be revealed in our midst, in spite of whatever struggle and sadness and suffering finds us along the way.

See, I think Jesus shows up in surprising ways and through the love and lives of surprising people a lot of the time, if we would just open our eyes to recognize him among us.

Jesus shows up in the first responders, the nurses, the doctors who tend to the sick and dying. Jesus shows up in the friends and family, through Stephen Ministers and by way of Partners in Mission who send cards, bring meals, run errands and otherwise care for those who need it. Jesus shows up in and through individuals and communities of faith, like ours, who love one another – and our enemies – or try to; and who strive to do justice and love kindness and walk humbly in the face of so many temptations to do otherwise. And Jesus shows up in the mirror, too, if we will open our hearts, our minds, and our lives to that possibility.

Because what happens on the Road to Emmaus, really, is that Jesus opens the eyes of Cleopas and his friend to see what they already knew. Through some “walking with,” some patient conversation and a little bit of bread-breaking, they’re reminded and inspired to hit the road again and get about the business of telling their people what they had wanted to believe ever since the Friday before:

That God is bigger than death. That hope is better than despair. That light shines in the darkness. That love always gets the last word. And that we have hard, holy work to do in order to reveal that and to make it real for the world around us, in the name of Jesus, crucified and risen for the sake of the world.

Amen