While Easter stories rely on the absence of Jesus in the empty tomb, they also establish the presence of Jesus with the apostles to be the presence of Christ for each other.
Easter and the returning presence of Jesus
Easter 3B | Luke 24:36b-48
When someone tells me they like the prequels to Star Wars, I don’t believe them. Not because I think they’re lying to me. But because these movies were bad. Especially the dialogue, which was horrendous, but also the plotting was plodding and good actors gave stiff, wooden performances because George Lucas can’t direct.
These movies were terrible. Not B-movie terrible, not so bad-they’re-good terrible. But at the same time, they’re not stand-alone terrible. The effects were fine and the stories on the whole were OK. Except for the midichlorians debacle. That alone disqualifies the first movie. But on the whole, by themselves, these are probably C-/D+ movies.
As weak as these movies may be, what makes the Star Wars prequels terrible is not entirely the movies themselves. It’s really how they relate to expectations.
But twenty-two years after the first Star Wars revolutionized modern filmmaking, what did filmgoers actually expect to see when they walked into that theater? What do we expect to see when we go now?
We all expect the John Williams score and the scrolling words at the beginning; all the stuff Brian McLaren refers to as the can that holds the Coke. But what’s inside the can?
This is the squishy part of our lives. The part in which we search for meaning and understanding. For Star Wars movies, this means the Force, the Dark Side, empires and rebellions, heroes and villains. And at the center is the hero’s journey myth.
And when we walk into a theater to watch the hero’s journey myth play out, are we inspired to be heroic too? Do we see ourselves in Luke, Obi-Wan, or Rey?
Baggage
All of these elements come into our gospel this morning. Not in a galaxy far, far away but on the other side of this planet.
And just as I don’t believe a person who likes the Star Wars prequels because of all of my baggage, the disciples disbelieve that Jesus has come to them because of their baggage.
But this goes back to the beginning of the chapter, to Easter. In the evangelist we call Luke’s telling, messengers appear at the tomb to a group of women, telling them of the risen Christ:
“Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles.”
This group of women, the first witnesses and preachers of the good news, tell the other apostles all about it. And the men don’t believe them.
And yet…Peter goes to verify. Which means he at least trusted them. Or perhaps he had reason to believe. He checks it out and was amazed.
The Walk
Then it says, that same day, two of the apostles are walking along the road to Emmaus and Jesus walks along with them, only they don’t know that it’s Jesus. He’s some stranger to them. And they get to talking to this stranger about Jesus—how awesome he was and how he was crucified.
Then they invite the stranger to stay with them and eat. They show him hospitality. And when the stranger breaks the bread, they realize he is Jesus — and suddenly he vanishes.
They run to Jerusalem, probably to the upper room, the place they gathered to share the Passover on Thursday, where Jesus broke bread with them and said to keep breaking bread. And they tell the others about it. Verse 36 actually begins
“While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’”
And seeing Jesus in front of them, they still disbelieved.
Disbelief
We lean so heavily on disbelief we don’t realize that it is more than the absence of belief. That’s unbelief. This is the refusal to believe.
- The evidence in front of them doesn’t seem like Jesus, it leads to the conclusion that he’s a ghost.
- Their experience of death is that when people die they stay dead.
- And when Jesus said he would come back, he never said it would be like this. [He didn’t say what it would be like, actually…]
But notice also the relationship between belief and the incredible. The story comes to women and the other apostles refuse to believe. Why? You know why. It comes to a couple of them on the road and again they don’t believe. Maybe they’re making it up.
Even as Jesus comes to the whole group of them in the flesh, they still want to disbelieve.
This isn’t doubt — far from it. They refuse to believe and keep disbelieving as Jesus continues to encourage them to see him.
All the physical, analytical, experiential reasoning doesn’t reveal Jesus to them any better than explaining trinitarian theology to a stranger helps them believe. It’s like when we talk about Henry VIII and expect that to inspire people to join the Episcopal Church.
But when Jesus gets into the scriptures, into the story, in the room with them, as they tell and share and be together then they come to see what is happening. Their disbelief bypasses unbelief and becomes belief.
And their belief brings with it hope and exuberant joy.
The Table
Diana Butler Bass argues that we’ve put so much emphasis on the cross and the crucifixion of Jesus — on his death and resurrection — that we miss what might be the most central and important image in the story.
That Jesus gathered with them on Thursday of his last week to share around a table and teach them to keep sharing. Keep coming to tables and eating, drinking, and remembering.
And when the apostles are scared after the crucifixion, they return to that same place, to take comfort at the table, in that room. She writes:
“So when Jesus shows up at that table on the evening of the empty tomb in the room where a feast had become a funeral, a new table is set. It’s a table of gratitude – the gifts of God for the people of God – with the power to drive out fear.”
Fear was the culprit in last week’s story, not doubt. It wasn’t Thomas doubting but Jesus coming to banish their fear and replace it with joy and gratitude.
Presence of Jesus
So last week it was fear. This week it’s disbelief. Before that, it was an empty tomb and Mary mistaking Jesus for the gardener. Because of the stories we receive this season, it seems far too easy for us to define Easter by what it is not rather than what it is.
Just like focusing on the cross and the empty tomb, the death and the undeath, and ignoring the table gathering Thursday night and again Sunday night.
It’s a lot like defining the resurrection as the absence of death and peace as the absence of war.
But Easter gives us a different mechanism. The presence of Jesus. Just like Shalom isn’t only the absence of war, but the presence of peace, the presence of justice, the restorative presence of wholeness and hope.
We receive in the resurrection, the presence of Jesus again and always. We get the presence of belief and joy and hope.
And the teachings and the scripture and all these stories which awaken the hearts of the apostles aren’t just a movie about the hero’s journey, but the inspiring presence of a Holy Spirit who empowers all of us to gather and serve.
A Spirit who makes our Christ present in our times of trouble and pain; present in our hopes and celebrations; present in our being present for one another.
May Christ not only be present in your life but present in your presence with one another. Amen.