April 6, 2008                                                                                                    Ps. 116:12-19

First Congregational, Falmouth                                                                  I Peter 2: 19-25

James S. Scovil                                                                                                            Luke 24: 13-35

Right Before Our Very Eyes

            I remember staring down on this page of multi-colored dots.

            “What number do you see?” asked the eye doctor.

            “What number do I see?” I repeated.

            “Yes” he said.  “Tell me the number.”

            I felt like a fool.  There was no number there, only thousands of dots of many colors.

            “I don’t see a number” I said.

            “Well, let’s try this one” and he flips the page.

            “What about it?  Do you see a number?”

            “No”, I replied.

            “Hmmm.  Let me ask you something:  do you ever find yourself wearing two different colored socks, like a dark blue and a black sock at the same time?”

            Actually, I’m thinking, if I did I wouldn’t know it.  Then it struck me how fortunate I was that not only does Diane do the laundry, she folds the socks so there is no way for me to confuse the blue from the black.

            I had never really accepted the fact that I am partially color blind.  It’s not a major problem, but without plenty of light it is nearly impossible for me to see any difference between dark blue, dark brown and black.

            This is a terrific example of how we can miss something that is staring us right in the face.  It makes you think about what else you might be missing in life.  It can give you pause; what am I missing and don’t even realize it?

            Things like this happen all the time.  People often miss things around them until others point them out.  We have built-in filter systems that often cause us to miss things, which is why 10 people can all observe a bank robbery and then give ten very different accounts to the police as to what happened.

While leaving church one Sunday…

            As one who has been preaching since 1970, I never cease to be amazed at what people hear me saying as opposed to what I actually said, or think I actually said.  I learn quickly just how effective I have been in communicating my message in what I like to call the “exit polls,” i.e., greeting people as they leave church.

            Let’s say, for example, that I have just preached a sermon on Noah’s flood.  I have pushed hard the point that we need to be proactive in life and to learn how to anticipate some of the challenges we face as Christians.

            Let’s now go to the exit polls:

            The visitor who came late, sat in the back pew, and now wants to get out of there as soon as possible, shakes my hand and says, “Nice message this morning, Reverend.”

            Following her is a life-long member of the church who usually has something insightful to say:  “Great message.  You’ve made me think.  I need to update my will.”

            “Okay,” I’m thinking – sounds like a practical application here.

            Following him is the everlasting cynic who can always find something negative to say:  “Pretty good message this morning, Pastor, but the flood never really happened – it’s part of ancient mid-eastern mythology.”

            At the end of the line is a dear lady, a spiritual lady, who prays daily and reads “Daily Word” religiously:  “I liked the message this morning.  I especially liked the point about ‘turning the other cheek.”

            I smile.  I never said anything about “turning the other cheek” but that’s what she heard, that’s what she needed to hear and somehow she managed to extract the idea out of the message.  I continue to marvel at how many different ways the same message gets processed by parishioners.

Through what lenses?

            We, in fact, wear spectacles.  You can’t see them, but they are there.  Just as my eyes failed to see the numbers on the page, many people go through life failing to see things that are right before their very eyes.  We all hear and see selectively. 

            My grandmother taught me all about this.  She lived with my family for a few months and I realized very quickly how selective her hearing could be.  I could be in the same room with her and she would have to ask me to repeat myself often.  But my parents could be in the next room whispering and wouldn’t you know?  She would hear every word!

            As amazing as it should be, it is not really all that surprising that the disciples while on the way to Emmaus, failed to recognize Jesus walking with them.  They thought he was just a friendly guy along for the journey and it wasn’t until he sat with them and shared a meal, reminiscent of the last Supper, that they figured out who he was!

            How could that happen?  How could that be possible?  The answer is really quite simple:  they thought he was dead?

“Mistaken Identity” 

            Many of you certainly have heard about the story of the two teenage girls involved in that horrific accident that claimed five young lives on April 26.  For five weeks the VanRyn family sat by the side of the young woman who they thought was their daughter, Laura.  Then came the realization that, in fact, the patient for whom they had so lovingly cared was Whitney Cerak.  For anyone who thinks that they would not make such a mistake themselves, I suggest to you that the mind can play powerful tricks on us.  The Ceraks had never identified their daughter and were convinced that she was dead.  The VanRyns were convinced that the young girl in that bed was their daughter because everyone told them so.  For five weeks, this went on while puzzling signals were either ignored or explained as common consequences of brain injury.

            I’ve seen the families interviewed a couple of times and each time I fight back the tears.  This is such a sad story; it also a story of emotional complicity.  You’re sad for the VanRyns and you’re happy for the Ceraks.  Then you feel guilty because the VanRyns now know their daughter is dead. 

A similar puzzling story

            The same dynamic is at work in today’s story of the resurrected Jesus:    

            Two disciples are on a seven mile walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus on Easter, only they didn’t know it was Easter.  They are busy chatting with one another when a stranger catches up to them and starts walking with them.  The disciples don’t realize that this stranger is actually Jesus.  Luke says, “their eyes were kept from recognizing him.”  A footnote in my Bible suggests that this is the difference between perception and recognition.

            So, they continue to walk together, the three of them and Jesus asks, “What have you two been talking about?”

            They stop to answer, and the one whom we now learn is Cleopas, says “Are you the only person in town who doesn’t know? “

            “Know what?” asks Jesus.

            “That Jesus, the one we followed, and the one we were convinced was a prophet, was crucified by the authorities.  All this time we thought that he was the one.  That was three days ago and….”we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.”

            They don’t realize that they are talking to Jesus!  Even after Jesus reminds them of God’s whole plan, they still don’t get it.  They believe Jesus is dead and they do not allow eyes to see him and their ears to hear him, not even after walking with him seven miles!

            Finally, the truth comes out.  The two disciples reach their destination and seeing the stranger planning to continue on, they invite him to say.  Now this is in and of itself another whole sermon on hospitality but we will leave that for another day!

            A little later the three of them break bread together and as Luke tells us, “their eyes were opened and they recognized him.” 

            This is an amazing story.  Here is Jesus, in person, walking with them for seven miles and they are blinded by their lack of faith.  Not for a moment do they set their self pity aside and open their eyes as to who this person really is.  “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.”  They had given up on Jesus.  The grief was for themselves and not for their loving leader who had died a horrific death:  “We thought he was the one that was going to save us.”

What about us?

            So what’s the message here on this third Sunday in Easter? 

“Wow,”I have to say to myself, “what’s not the message here?”  A preacher could spend a lifetime on this text alone:  selfishness, denial, guilt, lack of faith, self-pity, lack of vision, and on and on.  But for today, this simple thought:  Christ is alive and his spirit lives in us.  Could it be that the light of Christ is shining through others surrounding us and we cannot see it?  Could it be that our concept of the risen Christ is too small, too confining, too limiting and that as a result, He cannot get through to us, i.e., we cannot hear his voice?

Do you remember, “where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am also”.  The King James version puts it this way:  For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”  (Matt. 18:20)

There are more than three people in this church.  Look around.  What are you seeing?  What are you hearing?  What are you missing?

Look for the light and life of Jesus Christ in those who surround you.  You may realize how much you are missing.  Open your eyes, your ears and your hearts to the living Christ as it comes to us in community, the church and the world that surrounds our every moment.

Amen.