| There’s a pair! And there’s another pair, and over there another. Eyeglasses, I mean. Lots of eyeglasses! And, of course, there’s no way I can tell from here how many of you are wearing contact lenses.
But as I look out over the congregation this morning I see quite a number of us who’d be in deep trouble without eyeglasses. In fact, without mine the world looks so fuzzy and indistinct that I’m sure few of you have ever seen me without them. Some of us who wear glasses and probably even some of us who haven’t yet given in to wearing them-some of us suffer from a condition called “presbyopia.” That word, “presbyopia,” comes from two Greek words that mean “old” and “eye,” and it describes our diminished ability after middle age to see clearly things that are near at hand, a condition that develops when we lose elasticity in our eye’s crystalline lens. So “presbyopia” means “old eyes” or “old vision”-when things near at hand get fuzzy and indistinct, when we are no longer able to focus when things move and change near us. Now, “presbyopia” is a term that can be used both literally, to describe an aspect of our physical condition, and metaphorically, to describe an aspect of our human condition. “Presbyopia” in the metaphorical sense is the kind of vision that can see life only in an “old” way, the kind of vision that is unable to refocus itself when new things or new ways come into view near at hand. This kind of presbyopic experience is one all of us have had, no matter how good our physical eyesight may be. Now, any group such as ours that calls itself “Presbyterian”- which means “governed by elders, by ones who are old (and wise)”-any group such as ours has a special need to be careful lest we develop that metaphoric kind of presbyopia. Any group such as ours has a special need to be careful lest we develop the kind of “old vision” that is unable to refocus itself when new things or new ways come near to hand. We need to be on guard against lapsing into Presbyterian presbyopia. So we, of all people, should pay special heed to the message given us in this morning’s Second Lesson. For there, on the road to Emmaus, Cleopas and his unnamed companion are suffering from a case of metaphoric presbyopia. You see, their hope that Jesus would prove to be the Messiah, the agent from God for whom they and so many other Jews had longed-that hope had been dashed several days before when Roman soldiers had nailed Jesus to a cross. So when the Risen Jesus approaches them on the road, their presbyopia, their old-eyed way of viewing things, keeps them from recognizing him. From their presbyopic point of view, Jesus had, only days before, shown himself not to be the kind of Messiah central to their own vision, not the kind of Messiah focused on by their old way of seeing things-the kind who would lead others in taking up the sword and vanquishing the evil empire of Rome. Why, just last Thursday, on the night of Jesus’s arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, when his followers had asked him, “Lord, should we strike with the sword,” and one of them had even cut off the ear of the High Priest’s servant, had not Jesus responded, “No more of this!” (Luke 22:49-51), and then, after healing the servant’s ear, had not Jesus proceeded to submit willingly to being executed by Rome? What kind of Messiah would have done things like that? Yes, as Cleopas and his companion depart from Jerusalem to return to their home in Emmaus, they are thinking dejectedly in just such old ways as this. They are looking at things from the same presbyopic perspective that had led them earlier that day to dismiss as nonsense a report given to them by Mary Magdalene and several other women, a report about a vision of angels at an empty tomb, a vision in which these women supposedly had been told that Jesus was no longer dead but was once again alive. “What nonsense,” Cleopas and his companion are thinking, “for no one has actually seen a Risen Jesus.” For as the Gospel of Luke recounts the Easter story, not even the women who are claiming to have seen angels at the tomb are claiming to have seen Jesus himself. So, as I said, when the Risen Jesus approaches the pair on their way to Emmaus, their presbyopia, their old-eyed way of seeing things, keeps them from recognizing him. The old has passed away, and the new has come. But they are not able to perceive it. So the mysterious stranger who joins Cleopas and his companion on the road undertakes to redefine for them the meaning of the term “Messiah,” to interpret for them passages from throughout the Old Testament that will convince them that the Messiah had been destined to undergo suffering before entering into his glory. The stranger’s exposition of the Books of Moses, of Psalms, and of Isaiah intrigues Cleopas and his companion, but only in an intellectual sort of way. For although they know they have seen Jesus’s suffering, they think they have as yet caught nary a glimpse of the glory that, were this stranger’s reading of things correct-the glory that should be following upon the crucifixion, were Jesus really such a Messiah as that. Exhausted by the grief of reliving their sorrow and further tired by their strenuous seven-mile journey on foot, Cleopas and his companion at last reach their home in Emmaus. The stranger bids them farewell and starts to head onward, but despite their exhaustion the pair recover their culturally inbred habit of hospitality and insist that the stranger stay with them for dinner and for overnight accommodation. He consents and joins them at table. Then, just as Jesus had done during his last supper with his disciples, on the night of his arrest, the stranger assumes the role of the host at the meal. He takes the loaf of bread, blesses and breaks it, and gives it to them to eat. And as they eat, their eyes are opened. Their presbyopia, their old way of looking at things, is healed, and they can at last perceive the new thing that God is doing. They can at last “see” who it is that has been accompanying them on the road, who it is that has been teaching them all this while. They can at last recognize the Risen Jesus and know that the glory of the suffering Messiah has indeed been fulfilled, by his being raised from the dead. And at this moment of their recognition, the Risen Christ vanishes. Also vanishing in their exuberance is their exhaustion, and Cleopas and his companion make haste to go to Jerusalem to share their good news with all the disciples gathered there. Through the breaking and sharing of the bread of Christ, their presbyopia, their old-eyed way of seeing life, is healed, and they can perceive the new things God is doing in the world. In the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper they gain a different vision, the vision of a world renewed and transformed in light of the Crucified and Risen Christ, the vision of a world in which love and forgiveness and peace are newly empowered to triumph over hatred and violence and revenge. In the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper they gain the vision that, in the Risen Christ, God’s plan for the world of love, forgiveness, renewal, healing, peace-that that plan of God’s for the world is no longer hidden, but is now revealed. Yes, the Risen Christ experienced in this sacrament is both the sign and the seal of God’s plan for the world of resurrection, of healing, of renewal. In the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, they come to understand that they are made one with the body of the Crucified and Risen Christ, and that they have been called to share with others the transforming power of God’s love. Brothers and sisters in Christ, as today we celebrate this sacrament, may we be freed from every trace of Presbyterian presbyopia. May our old ways of looking at life-skewed by such astigmatisms as closed-mindedness, selfishness, the nursing of anger, racism, classism, sexism, heterosexism-may all our old ways of looking at life be healed. And may we today be empowered anew here at this table by a fresh experience of the Risen Christ; may we be empowered to speak and work on behalf of Christ in matters so dear to the heart of God as these: peace with justice in the Middle East; justice with love for gays and lesbians both in society and in the church; and love with healing for all those suffering the effects of the crucifixion of 9/11. Sisters and brothers in Christ, join me at this table. Join me with the crucified and Risen Jesus, and with all the saints who have died and are now joined with God in eternal life, what we call the communion of saints. As we gather, see clearly that present with us at this table today is not only the Risen Christ but also the whole company of our departed parents, spouses, partners, family, and friends. For you see, for those freed from presbyopia and blessed with new sight in Christ, this table offers a vision, a foreseeing of the great heavenly banquet that God is preparing for all of us to share. Sisters and brothers in Christ, through this sacrament may God open our eyes to recognize that present with us today at this table is the spirit of one newly departed, one much beloved in this community of faith. For we are joined today at this table, as part of the communion of saints, by the living and loving spirit of Deacon Cathy Blaser, a woman devoted to the inclusiveness of Christ’s church, a woman devoted to the healing of the Presbyterian presbyopia of heterosexism, a woman devoted to bringing both to society and the church justice with love for all of God’s lesbian, and gay, and bisexual, and transgendered children. Brothers and sisters in Christ, join me at this table, together with the Risen Christ and the whole company of God’s saints, including our beloved Cathy and Sally and Lucienne, and others named in your heart. Join me, that we may receive from Christ the gift of healing and new sight. For the old has passed away, and the new has come. Today, may the Risen Christ heal every trace of our presbyopia and enable us to perceive the new things God is doing. Let us pray: O Risen Christ, come to us anew at this table so that our eyes may be opened to recognize You, so that our lives may be transformed to serve You. In all that we say and do, may we both proclaim and enact the power and the glory of Your resurrection. Amen. |
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