Hope For The Way

April 23, 2023

Rev. Mary Erickson

Hope Lutheran Church

Luke 24:13-35

Hope for the Way

Friends, may grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus our Lord.

“But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” – Luke 24:21

Hope. Hope is something that allows us to put one foot in front of the other. The poet Emily Dickensen wrote this about hope:

Hope is a thing with feathers,

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all

Hope is essential for living. Without hope, we couldn’t even get out of bed. We would never start a new project if we didn’t have hope. Without hope,

we could never stand at the plate and take a swing;

we could never stand at the altar and say “I do;”

we could never have a child;

we could never plant a field.

All require hope. Without hope, we don’t have the courage to face any of these things.

We might be short on many things. Our national budget might be short on cash flow. We might be short of crude oil supplies. But it seems like the thing that our nation and the world find in shortest supply is hope.

People—all people—need hope. And it’s the one great gift the Church has to give. We are the supplier of the world’s greatest hope! We have so much hope that we can give it away, in liberality. And we have so much hope because we are the Church of the Risen Lord. Christ is risen! Alleluia!

Today we hear the story of the Road to Emmaus. Traveling that road are two followers of Jesus. The time: the afternoon of Easter Sunday. They’re walking the seven miles back home to Emmaus from Jerusalem. And while they’re plodding along, Jesus joins them along the way. Luke tells us that something keeps them from being able to recognize Jesus. What exactly is it that’s prohibiting them? Is it Jesus? Is it their despair?

Jesus asks them a leading question: What are the two of you discussing as you walk along? Jesus’ question has an immediate effect on the two travelers. Cleopas and his friend stop dead in their tracks. The question paralyzes them. They simply can’t put one foot in front of another. What causes them to come to a halt? They say it: We had hoped that he would be the one to redeem Israel. The dashing of their hopes stopped their ability to move forward.

“We had hoped....” They had pinned their hopes on Jesus. They had hoped Jesus would be the Messiah to vanquish all of Israel’s enemies. They hoped he would mobilize the country. He would drive all those who oppose Israel into the sea, even mighty Rome. Jesus would be the new King David.

All this they had hoped! They had come to Jerusalem because they wanted to witness Jesus entering his glory. But then their dreams began to unravel, quickly, during the past week: the religious leaders’ animosity, the arrest, the Roman trial, the lynch-frenzied crowd calling for Jesus’ execution, his humiliating crucifixion.

They had hoped! And, as if matters weren’t bad enough, just that morning it seems someone had stolen Jesus’ body. It wasn’t in the grave. This was the last stroke. Their dream of glory was over, and they’d awakened to a nightmare.

So now they were returning home. A week before they had skipped joyfully all the way to Jerusalem. But today, on their return to Emmaus, that same road had become stony and twice as long. They had hoped. Now hope was dead. And when the stranger on the way asks them about it, they just can’t take another step.

Does that ever happen to you? Do you ever become so overwhelmed by despair that you can’t take even one step more? Has your hope died?

Hope is decidedly future-oriented. Hope isn’t about the past. You don’t hope for what’s in the past. You can sentimentalize the past. You can yearn for it. But you don’t hope for the past.

Hope happens when we look to the future. And in fact, hope really creates the future! Without hope, we can’t see a future.

This Road to Emmaus stands as a parable for us. We’re all on a journey, aren’t we! A journey where hope is at stake.

We’re all hoping that winter is over and that we’ve experienced our last snowfall! But bear with me for a moment to remember back to a day with a freshly fallen snow. As you walk along in the fresh snow, you leave a set of tracks. If you stop, you can see your “past tense.” You can turn around and look at your tracks in the snow, where you’ve been. And directly beneath your boots, there’s a set of tracks there, too. But you can’t see them. You can’t see your present tense tracks. You can only see your past tense tracks.