Sunday, April 30, 2017

Sermon: "Walk Together" (Luke 24: 13-35)

Can I say a word about camp? As you know, I have spent many weeks as a camp counselor or director. I’ve lost track, but I estimate that I’ve spent between 60 and 70 weeks of my life as a counselor or director at camp. If I had done it all at once, it would be 16 months straight.
The camps where I’ve been on staff have been boy scout camps, church camps, and camps for adults with developmental disabilities. This summer, I’ll be doing it again, leading a mission trip for teenagers in our region that will involve service opportunities and cultural experiences in conjunction with our Disciples congregations in Hawaii.
Why do I do it? Because I have seen the incredible power of camp to shape young people’s lives. I know how camp has shaped my life! One week at church camp is 144 hours of living in Christian community. For many youth, that’s more time than they spend in church in an entire year.
And I’ve been fortunate enough to keep in touch with a few of the youth who I counseled - youth who are now young adults. Some of them have kids of their own. Many have remained committed to the church, and are deeply invested in issues of peace and justice. A few have become missionaries or pastors.
And when I substitute teach, I can tell which kids have been to camp, which kids are active in their church or in scouts. They’re more respectful, and more committed to improving their own lives for their own sake and the sake of their community and their world.
So I’m thankful that we can send our kids to camp at Loch Leven. If you want to get a first-hand look at Loch Leven, the camp owned and operated by Bixby Knolls Christian Church and the other congregations of the Pacific Southwest Region, then I strongly encourage you to attend Rock the Loch next Saturday. If you need more information about it, talk to me after worship.
A few weeks ago I told you about the Community of the Great Commission, the camp & conference center owned and operated by the Disciples churches in northern California; the camp that we called “CGC” for short. It’s northern California’s version of Loch Leven, and I spent many summers there counseling and directing camps.
I mentioned that CGC is a lot flatter than Loch Leven. It is also a lot more spread out.
At CGC, campers had to walk from one end of camp all the way to the other end of camp for meals. It wasn’t a hard walk, since the roads and trails were mostly level, but it was long. We’d have to leave the program area about fifteen minutes early just to get to the dining hall in time.
I think the walk is about one-third of a mile each way. Walking to the dining hall and back, three times a day, adds up to two miles of walking.
Eventually, the church in northern California built a brand new dining hall, right in the middle of camp. The new, centrally-located dining hall cut the walking time in half.
We expected the campers to be ecstatic over this. This was not the case. Some of the older campers, the ones who had been going to camp for a number of years, were not happy.
For them, those walks had become holy journeys, in which they could admire the scenery, listen to the birds, get lost in their thoughts, meditate, and - most of all - enjoy some good conversation with friends.
As I think back to my time at CGC as a counselor and director, I do recall that some of the most significant conversations I had with campers and other counselors took place as we walked from one end of camp to the other. One conversation in particular, I remember, involved a high school camper who voiced some doubts he had. As we walked past the camp pool and through a densely wooded section of trail, he said, “I don’t know what I believe. I don’t know if I believe.”
The conversation was going well until another camper said, “You shouldn’t tell him that; he’s a pastor.”
But I said, “No, no, no; it’s ok. It’s ok to have doubts. I have doubts about a number of things. I have questions. And as a pastor I’d much rather have someone who has doubts and questions about what they believe or what they think they’re supposed to believe than have someone who never doubts or questions anything, but just blindly believes whatever they’ve been told.”
I know, not every pastor feels this way, but to me, a person who doubts and questions is a person who thinks deeply, who really wants to understand, while a person who just blindly accepts whatever is told to them is a person whose faith is shallow. To be honest, some of the best conversations I’ve ever had were with people who honestly weren’t sure whether or not God exists. But they had thought deeply about such things.
I read once, that theology is a lot like a community swimming pool, in that most of the noise comes from the shallow end. Well, I’m tired of all the noise that comes from the shallow end. I want to go deep. And if the only people willing to go deep are those who have doubts and questions, then so be it. At least they are thinking deeply and seriously.
Without the long walk to the dining hall, I probably wouldn’t have been able to go deep with that camper. But on our walk, we were able to go deeper. We were able to walk with each other, talk about things, and some of those things we talked about were important things. Deep things. Meaningful things.
I also realized that, when you are walking with someone through a forest of pine trees to lunch, no one really expects you to have all the answers. When I preach or teach, people usually expect answers. But on the trails at CGC, all they expect, really, is that you walk with them.
And sometimes, just walking with someone is the best, most important thing you can do.
In the Bible we read of two companions who walked with each other from Jerusalem to Emmaus. It was about a seven mile walk; I don’t know how fast they walked, but it probably took about two hours, maybe bit longer...
It was always better to walk with someone. Conversation made the time go by faster, and there was safety in numbers. Solitary hikers were more vulnerable to attack by robbers.
One of those walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus was Cleopas. The other is not named. Was it a friend? His wife? A lover? Or just a fellow follower of Jesus looking for someone to walk with?
Whoever they were, they were filled with sadness. As followers of Jesus, they had come to Jerusalem expecting to see the movement take off, but instead, they witnessed the death of their leader. In that sad, tragic moment, I’m sure it was nice to have someone to walk with, someone with whom they could talk about all these things that had happened.
As they were walking and talking and discussing, another person came near and started walking with them. It was Jesus, but they did not recognize him.
Jesus asked them what they were talking about. At first, they couldn’t answer, they could only look sad. Where to start? They had been talking about deep things. Could they really share with a stranger what they had been talking about, share with him their thoughts, their feelings, their disappointment, their sadness?
Instead of answering right away, Cleopas responded with a question of his own: “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?”
It became an improv game in which everything said had to be in the form of a question...
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know the things that we are talking about?”
Jesus replies: “What things?”
Cleopas and his companion give in, and start telling this stranger all the things that took place concerning Jesus, ending with how he was crucified, and how some women now claimed that he was alive.
It was all very confusing. They didn’t have any answers. Jesus had the answers, but notice how he didn’t present the answers right away. For now, it was important that he listen, and walk with them. The answers would come later.
By the time they had arrived in Emmaus, this stranger had earned their trust. He had listened to them tell their story, and then he went on to share some of his own answers to their questions. But he hadn’t yet revealed everything. He hadn’t yet revealed who he was.
In Emmaus, Cleopas and his companion invited Jesus to stay with them. A meal was prepared, and the stranger took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. And then, finally, they recognized him as Jesus, the one who had been crucified, now living, the one who had walked with them.
There are many ways to walk with someone.
Sometimes we walk with a friend. Walking with a friend, you engage in conversation, you get to know one another better, you deepen the friendship.
Sometimes we walk with a stranger. It’s an act of kindness, an act of hospitality, a chance to learn something new or make a new friend. Inviting a stranger to walk with you is saying to that person: you don’t have to walk alone.
Sometimes we walk with those who mourn. Sometimes, all that is needed is a companion to walk beside you on a difficult road. People think they need to have the right words of comfort to give, that they need to have answers, but really, all they need is to be present, and walk beside those who are hurting.
Sometimes we walk in solidarity. The March to Selma, the Climate March, and the March for Science I participated in last week. The point is that we walk together. This is a very powerful form of walking.
And often, walking is a metaphor. Even a person confined to a bed or wheelchair can walk with Jesus, walk the journey of faith.
So never underestimate the importance of walking with someone.
Walking with someone, going deep with them into whatever they are feeling or experiencing… going deep with them into their joy, their pain, their doubts, their questions…
That’s how you get to know someone. That’s how you love them.
And in learning to love others, you learn to love Jesus.
You cannot love Jesus if you don’t love your neighbor.
Cleopas and his companion welcomed the stranger, walked with him, went deep with him. They got to know him.
And when they reached Emmaus, they showed him great hospitality.
It was in walking with this stranger, getting to know him, showing love to him, that they were able to see in him the presence of the risen Christ.

Do you know someone who needs a friend, a companion, to walk with them? Is it possible that you can be that person? You don’t have to have all the answers. But if you simply walk with them, they may see in you the presence of the risen Christ. And it will be enough.

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