Luke 24:1-32
The tomb is empty! Hope is alive! The cross is covered in flowers! The eggs are filled with blessings! Christ is risen!…..And it’s April Fools Day!
The last time Easter and April Fools Day overlapped was before I was born. After reflecting this week on the connections between these two very different holidays, I’m disappointed they don’t coincide more often. There is so much foolishness in the Easter story–some of it perceived and some of it real, some of it absurd and some of it glorious.
The Easter story begins with what the disciples consider an “idle tale”–the equivalent of an April Fools joke, though not funny. “Jesus’ body is gone,” the women tell them. “He is alive!”
Of course the disciples think this is utter foolishness. It is foolish to think that someone who has died can come back to life. It is foolish to think that, after their teacher is executed in a humiliating public crucifixion, his message could live on. I imagine the disciples begin to look back and suddenly see the whole thing as foolish. Who did Jesus think he was, proclaiming the coming of the kingdom of God in the midst of the kingdom of Caesar? What foolishness led them to leave their boats and homes to follow him? I imagine them shaking their heads at themselves– “What fools we have been, to dare to hope.”
The second part of the story–the road to Emmaus–is also about foolishness, this time with a twist. The first hint of the twist comes when Jesus says to the two morose disciples, “Come on! Why are you being so foolish? Why are your hearts so sluggish to believe?” When he breaks the bread, their eyes are open and they realize they have been walking with Jesus the entire time. “Weren’t our hearts on fire when he was talking with us?” How could we not have realized we were walking with Jesus? How foolish we have been!
M. Scott Peck tells the story of a monastery that was once a pilgrimage destination, known for its peacefulness and for the wisdom of the monks. As times changed, fewer people came to visit and the downward spiral of disappointment took its toll. By the time the story takes place, the abbot is overseeing a dilapidated monastery with five cranky monks that are always fighting with each other.
One day, in despair, the abbot go to visit his friend the rabbi. He pours out his tale of woe. The rabbi responds by sharing a vision he has seen: “The messiah will come from your monastery.”
The abbot is shocked. He goes back and tells the monks. In the ensuing stunned silence, they each begin to wonder about the others. Might grumpy brother Joseph be the messiah? Or withdrawn Stephen? Brother John seems so self-centered, but maybe there’s something more there. It couldn’t be me the rabbi was talking about, or could it?
A change is sparked. The monks begin to treat each other differently–just in case one of them really is the messiah. The few visitors who come notice the change, and they begin to come back, seeking to bask in this community where people treat each other with deep respect and compassion. From the downward spiral of disappointment, the monastery is transformed into a place of hope, beauty, and healing.
Easter and April Fools Day…. For me, the invitation in this unusual convergence is to join with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, to join with the monks in the imaginary monastery, in recognizing our foolishness. Our foolishness is that we walk through life unaware that the Holy One is right beside us. Our foolishness is that we don’t realize that the ordinary-looking person with whom we are sharing a meal might be bearing a message from God. Our foolishness is that we walk right by signs of new life and don’t stop.
What would our lives be like if we began to notice? They wouldn’t suddenly become easy. When Jesus breaks bread with the two disciples at Emmaus, it is a bittersweet moment. Even as their eyes are opened and they realize Jesus is alive, they remember the last time Jesus broke bread with them. They remember the sadness in his eyes when he says, “This is my body, which is broken for you.” They flash back to their own shock when he takes the cup and says, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, poured out for you.” They remember his broken body and the brokenness of a world where hatred and fear, suffering and loss are all too real. And they rejoice that he is with them, to give them strength to be part of healing that broken world.
When we join with the disciples, acknowledging our folly in thinking we walk through the world alone, when we claim the wisdom that opens our eyes to the holy all around us, our lives do not get any easier. Our eyes are opened as well to the pain and injustice of the world. Our hearts burn within us–a fire of compassion for our neighbor’s suffering, a fire of passion for justice. Our lives become more complicated–and infinitely richer. We see the hints of spring in the midst of winter. We hear words of hope from strangers on the road. We discover our capacity for love, deeper and richer than we ever imagined. We claim our own holiness; we revel in the holiness of the bread we eat, the hands we shake, the voices we hear, the faces we encounter.
Today, on this Easter and April Fools Sunday, I invite you to join the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Our journey is shorter–just the length of this aisle. And we already know what they did not yet know: the risen Christ is walking beside us, breaking this bread, sharing this meal. As you come forward, I invite you to notice the people around you, as those monks began to notice each other. Might the person beside you be Christ for you today? As you dip your bread in the cup, I invite you to think of meals you share during the course of the week–with colleagues at work, family or friends, at lunch bunch, with a stranger in a fast food restaurant. Claim those meals as sacred meals, those companions as God in human form.
Friends, the table is set. This table is for all of us, whatever your age or background, whatever doubts and convictions you bring, wherever you are on your life’s journey. The bread has been blessed and broken. May our eyes be opened. May we recognize the risen Christ within us and among us.
Friends, these are the gifts of God for the people of God. Come, for all things are now ready.