Acts 2:42-47

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.

Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

“They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to fellowship, to eating and praying together”. That’s how our first reading begins. Who is the “they”? They are the crowd of people gathered around the disciple because of a violent wind, flaming tongues, and hearing different languages spoken on Pentecost. Peter stood up to address the crowd and gave his first sermon, which must have been pretty good because, as our reading from Acts last week noted, three thousand people were baptized and added to the community. If that happened today, we’d say that’s pretty miraculous.

However, it’s what happens next that's really impressive; these three thousand people committed themselves to doing life together. They learned, ate, and prayed together. They shared all their possessions. They sold whatever they owned and gave the money to anyone who had a need. Daily they shared meals together and celebrated all that God was doing. And they had compassion and kindness toward one another.

And remember this wasn’t 3000 people from the same place with the same background who thought the same or had the same cultural practices or anything like that. They were strangers from over 14 different countries. Undoubtedly some were old, some young. Some wealthy, some not. The real miracle isn’t that 3,000 people were baptized. It’s that 3,000 people responded to the gift of grace by doing life together despite all their differences, that’s the miracle. With all our divisions, divides, and individualism of today, something like that is unfathomable for 30 people, let alone 3,000.

It’s fair to wonder, are we given this description of the early disciples as a command, as instructions on how we ought to live? If so, this picture painted of life together repels us more than does compel us… for lots of reasons. Maybe when we were young and idealistic we thought living such a way was possible, maybe even desirable. But now we have families or we’re set in our ways. We are comfortable with our routines, our privacy, our preferences. And we recognize all the sacrifices and accommodations and demands it would place on us.

I mean, if we're honest, We can’t even imagine living this way with our own families in our own homes. We're far too busy with work, and practices, lessons, games, recitals, more work, etc.

Who has time for daily meals together, let alone prayers and teachings and fellowship.

Moreover, we don’t trust other people enough to live like this. Just a couple weeks ago, Tom Orr and the Wired Word class discussed a Wall Street Journal poll that found communal values like religion, community involvement, or having children have all significantly trended downward in the last 20 years. Reflecting on why, David Brooks of the NYT wrote

“My fear is that we’ve entered a distrust doom loop: People are so untrusting of their institutions and their neighbors that they are unwilling to reach out, to actively renew their communities, and so the dysfunction will continue, and the distrust will increase, and so on and so on.”

But perhaps most of all this picture of life together repels us because we feel convicted by it, or at least I do. Deep down, I know I should live more like this, that I should share more meals, open my home, give money to meet the needs of my neighbors, share what's mine with an open hand, and have goodwill toward all people. Maybe i’m not the only one…

However, I don’t believe these verses are rules or specific instructions that Christians must follow. It’s not, if we live this way, Jesus will love us. Notice that all these people were baptized first, then they lived this way. They received God’s grace and love and acceptance first and then because of what they experienced, they committed themselves to doing life together in this way so others may experience what they did.

This way of living shows us what life through the power of the Spirit could be like. It represents the best of what God’s people are capable of. But it doesn’t last long. Soon people in the community will defraud one another, they’ll hold back their resources, they will treat each other unfairly, and after Acts 5, the church is never described with such rosy language.

These verses, this idealized picture, is not meant to be a discouragement, but rather an inspiration: look at what life together could be like, a life full of welcome and hospitality, justice and mutuality, of service and community. Some intentional communities take these verses very seriously and try to follow them to the letter, like the bruderhof communities or houses of hospitality from the Catholic Worker movement.And while not the same, but at our best, we experience some of that life together here: We break bread together, we learn and celebrate together. We provide for each other's needs and the needs of our neighbors: whether that's through our monthly mission focus, our food pantry, or our support to Fondwa, Haiti. We pray, we worship, and we tell others about the God whom we confess.

And it’s no accident that you are a part of this community, at this time and place. In fact, you didn’t choose to be a part of this church. But you’ll say, “Cogan I tried a lot of places before coming here and intentionally chose this place.” To which I would respond, it was the Holy Spirit at work in you that led you to say, “this is where I want to be a part of the Body of Christ.

This is where I heard and still hear the good news of the Gospel: that I am forgiven and loved and grace is mine no matter who I am or who I love or what I’ve done. This is where I am called to do life together with others who have experienced the grace of Jesus, too.

Now to be sure this isn't the only place where this sort of stuff happens. And Life together here isn’t always ideal. Like those early followers, we mess up, we make mistakes, we don’t always agree. But like Dietrich Bonhoeffer says in his book, Life Together,

“even when sin and misunderstanding burden our life together, is not the sinning sibling still a sibling…? Will not their sin (or mine) be a constant occasion for me to give thanks that both of us live in the forgiving love of God? Thus the moment of disappointment with my brother becomes incomparably beneficial, because it teaches me that neither of us can ever live by our own words and deeds, but only by that one Word and Deed which really binds us together, the forgiveness of sins in Jesus Christ.”

What's so powerful about these disciples’ life together was their desire to give of themselves so that others might experience grace just as they did. And what else does the love of Jesus feel like than a good meal with even better company? A celebration full of joy and festivity? Or having your needs met or debt paid by someone else’s sacrifice? That’s the call we have as a community, as a church. To give of ourselves and do life live together in such a way that draws others in so that they too experience grace, no strings attached.

As we approach commitment Sunday, more than any dollar amount you commit to, or any role you volunteer for, or any talent you share, commit to doing Life Together. As one writer puts it, “God does not need possessions and has never been impressed by their donation. God wants people and draws us into that wanting.”

Commit to showing up, to doing meals together, to trusting each other, to praying for and with one another, to meeting the needs of your neighbors, to drawing other people in

because you want them to experience the grace of Jesus just as you have.

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