A sermon for 8th Day Community on the Third Sunday of Easter
April 19, 2026
Text: Luke 24:13-35 … Walk to Emmaus
Let me begin with a question: How do you know when somebody loves you?
Actions speak louder than words, do they not? No words can cover up a deep feeling of connection — or a deep feeling of distrust. Our bodies know – register feelings – guide our behavior. Our feelings can tell us when we are in a safe place – or not.
But most of us have learned to disconnect from our feeling center, and instead, to live a divided life – functioning in a competent and self-contained way even when we are grieving or afraid. We look for causes – or cures – rather than feeling the helpless terror of an unknown threat.
I find myself doing that a lot these days, as we careen in and out of war and economic disaster. That is simply the environment we live in – eerily similar to the world in which Jesus lived and died.
In our text for today, two friends are walking home from Jerusalem after the gruesome spectacle of Jesus’ crucifixion. It might be a couple; it might be two men. Only one is named: Cleopas, which leads me to think that the other might be his wife. All we know is that they are heading for Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem.
They are joined by a stranger, who doesn’t seem to know about the crucifixion. But he does know a great deal about the biblical texts that they too have grown up with.
The three of them walk, and talk, obviously enjoying each others company until the couple reach their destination and the stranger seems ready to continue on his journey. Although they feel some warmth and understanding, still they do not recognize their beloved teacher, Jesus.
Let’s pause here.
What is the writer of Luke showing us? Is the point that these people are exceedingly dense? Or distracted by their grief? Or unschooled in scripture? Or does Luke have something else in mind?
Two things stand out for me. Luke is making a case for Jesus as the promised Messiah – and he does so by emphasizing that Jesus was the fulfillment of widely-accepted prophesies. For readers who might have dismissed Jesus because he was not a heroic warrior like King David, Luke’s stranger lays the groundwork for belief by emphasizing their own Jewish tradition. So Luke’s audience is probably Jews in Diaspora, after the Romans destroyed the Second Temple in 70.
The second thing that stands out for me is that all this talking and recalling and intellectual rigor does NOT open their eyes, but it does pique their interest in having more conversation with this stranger. It’s even enough to prompt them to invite the stranger to stay with them, presumably in their home, since they have apparently walked the seven miles from Jerusalem together.
But the intellectual discussion is not enough – just as this sermon will not be enough to deepen your faith. It may engage your mind. But teaching like this does not usually touch the heart.
“Stay with us,” they say – and the stranger accepts their invitation. Intrigued, or perhaps simply practicing Middle Eastern hospitality, they welcome him into their home.
There are many ways to invite an intriguing stranger into your life.
Here’s an example from my life. Many years ago, in 1965, Peter and I were leading a youth group at Ft Benning, Georgia. Somebody handed me a copy of Faith At Work magazine, saying “You might get some small group ideas from this publication.” And we did, but we got considerably more than small group ideas. It was an invitation to Church of the Saviour!
And yesterday, as I was going through ALL of the Church of the Saviour papers, packing them up to move out of the Kayla McClurg House, I ran across that very issue of Faith At Work, dated October-November, 1963. [display]
On the cover is a picture of Gordon Cosby with two other men, looking at plans for something. Here is the editor’s note about the picture:
Readiness to put faith to work is what characterizes Washington, D.C.’s Church of the Saviour, described on page 31. On the cover you will mee Bill Saunders, Mel Garrit, and Pastor Gordon Cosby planning the construction of the Lodge of the Carpenter at the church’s retreat center, Dayspring, in Maryland. In other stories and articles you will discover how small groups can lead to deeper commitment to Cjhrist and wider outreach in service to others. If you read expectantly, some story will speak to you.
Inside is an article by Elizabeth O’Connor that eventually led us here, to this church, a decade later, when we moved to DC. Her article was titled “What the World Needs is Saints.” And in the article, she named saints as those people who are willing to be the connection between God and human beings, willing to live simply and sacrificially. She wrote
The world has always needed such people and it has survived because, here and there, there have always been such people. But the point now is that the world is not likely longer to survive unless there are many such people—unless you become such a person and unless I become such a person. I do not believe this to be an idle threat. I believe that the human race is in immediate danger of extinction.”
Her article did get my attention. I was ready to invite her into our home to hear more about this kind of spiritual life. In 1963, the danger of atomic annihilation seemed close and real. That year, President Kennedy was assassinated, the Cuban missile crisis raised the specter of war with Russia, and the threat that one side or the other would use nuclear weapons was obvious.
I was 24 in 1963, and her words seemed prophetic. Today, I think that we are, once again, skating close to that perilous line of extinction, except that we Americans seem oblivious and distracted. Moral leaders are few and far between.
Our recent effort as Church of the Saviour to make a public Confession of Faith IS a wake-up call – and one that I hope we can share widely. You can now find it, posted on our InwardOutward website, in a printable form that you can download and share. Doing that might, in fact, feel like inviting a stranger into your home. Without Gordon’s preaching and Elizabeth’s writing, we seem as splintered and scared as the followers of Jesus after the crucifixion.
Now, back to the Emmaus encounter. When this couple share their meal with their new friend, their eyes are suddenly opened as he took the bread, blessed it and broke it with them. Luke says “their hearts burned.” They FELT his presence – and then suddenly, he was gone. That is Luke’s way of giving us a picture of resurrection, woven into this story.
Think of that for a minute. He took the bread, blessed it, and broke it. In that moment, he is seen, fully known. Some of us will be silently adding the words, “This is my body, broken for you.”
The action we know as Eucharist, or communion, suddenly reveals Jesus as the resurrected Christ, as an ongoing presence with them. He is not dead and gone afterall.
Sometimes, when I am offering a teaching in one of the other Church of the Saviour communities, I wonder what it would be like to be part of that church community. But it was an Emmaus experience of communion that kept us at Seekers.
On the Sunday after July 4, 1976, we attended the ecumenical service at 2025, and learned (to our dismay) that the church was in the process of dividing into six smaller communities. We thought we had missed the church that Elizabeth O’Connor had written about in 1963. So we began to visit each one, hoping for a sign or a connection that would show us where we might belong.
On the Sunday that we visited Seekers, it happened to be communion Sunday. Sonya Dyer and Fred Taylor stood at the altar, blessing the bread and cup – and I suddenly felt tears gathering. All through the service, I kept reaching for another Kleenex, aware that something was happening. It was more like a leaky faucet than a burning heart, but my heart knew something deeper was going on.
When my mind got around to processing the day, I realized that I had NEVER seen a woman at the communion table. 1976. And I didn’t know I was hungry for women to be recognized as equal human beings by the church. I would not have called myself a feminist in those days. But my body knew there was a call stirring, and that this would be the place where I could meet the Holy One, in whatever disguise God’s presence would arrive. So we decided to stay at Seekers.
Our bodies know. Our feelings tell us when love and acceptance is there. And when we do the inner work to connect intellect and body wisdom, we do move toward wholeness, toward peacemaking and healing in whatever place we are called to live our lives in community. That’s what Elizabeth O’Connor’s article was all about. [Again display mag]
Four books, including Call to Commitment, were listed on an order form from Harpers in the back of that little magazine:
- Beginning Your Ministry by Sam Shoemaker, the founder of Faith At Work;
- Dimensions of Prayer by Douglas V. Steere
- Disciplines of the Spirit by Howard Thurman
- Call to Commitment by Elizabeth O’Connor
I ordered all four. They became the groundwork for my adult journey of faith. I did eventually go to VTS for seminary and then became the Director of Faith@Work in 1985, where I stayed for 21 years. I think it was the deep impact of Elizabeth O’Connor’s article that prompted me to start CALLINGS newsletter in 2011, when the Hubers set down their call to publish DIASPORA and I became chair of the Council after Kate Cudlipp’s untimely death.
Now in its 15th year, my purpose for publishing CALLINGS is to make us visible TO EACH OTHER as a scattered Church of the Saviour community. And at the age of 87, I am frankly looking for someone who is interested in learning how to keep it going – because I can see the end of my productive life sometime in the near future. (I would welcome a conversation with anyone who might be called to that work.)
In closing, our culture promotes a divided life, concerned more with comfort than with courage. It’s not news to you that we live in an addictive culture, designed to make us anxious consumers rather that committed followers of the WAY that Jesus walked.
We must choose, again and again, to engage with strangers, whether they be inner strangers or outer strangers, welcoming them into the intimacy of home and hearth so we continue to become who we already are: God’s beloved community here on earth.
May it be so,
Amen.