Spring, in this northern hemisphere, is a time of new growth and renewal as well as a noisy time of chirping birds and active insects. In this season, there are several ways I practice prayer. One is simply paying attention. In this way of praying, I sit quietly, as I watch our fig tree go from branches that look like there is no hope, to emerging buds, to leaves, to tiny green figs. How can so much life come from something that looks inactive, even dead? 

Another form of attentive prayer are the walks I take along the Northwest Branch. This is the season when the birds return: swallows, cormorants, great blue herons, osprey and the bald eagle. Seeing any one of these can stop me in my tracks – well maybe not the swallows. They hardly ever seem to stop their swooping, must I stop walking? It seems a small thing, watching these birds do what is so ordinary and usual for them. And yet I find a quiet joy in these common sightings. In the case of the eagle I am not so quiet, I notify anyone who passes by, “look up there.” 

Walking, instead of driving a car, gives me time to think, to observe, to process. When I walk, I run into people I wouldn’t see if I was trying to get somewhere fast: Fatima from San Mateo, out walking her dog. Cheryl from House Church, and we talk about the upcoming 50th anniversary of Community  House Church. Walking gives me a chance to catch up with Rachel from HMC and Min from WATER. And when I walk, people let me know they see me. I was surprised to get a text from my organizer friend, Jorge. “I saw you walking. How are you?” 

How can something so simple as walking connect us? We imagine that technology connects us more than ever before but what if the opposite is true? What if using our own bodies for transportation creates connection, with the earth, the creatures, our neighbors, with God?

I have been thinking about walking this week since the gospel today has the disciples walking on the road. It is interesting that this story in Luke takes place “that same day” as the story from John that we heard last week. On that Sunday, in John, the terrified disciples stay put, locking themselves in a room. This is an understandable reaction to their situation. This is often how we experience grief. We lock ourselves away, in fear that no one else can understand our pain and loss. 

In Luke’s version, two different disciples, who we have never heard of before, take a long walk together. Instead of isolating themselves, they process their grief and wonderings. “How can life go on after the horrible, torturous death of our beloved friend Jesus?”

It is in the walking and talking that the two disciples, Cleopas and Jessica meet the Risen Christ. (I am using the name Jessica since it is what Bryan Moyer-Suderman calls the unnamed disciple in his song that recounts this passage.) Jessica and Cleopas don’t have access to a chariot or a bus or a quick way to Emmaus. They have to walk. Is this one more way that less is actually more? It is on the road that they make the stranger’s acquaintance. And it is through their generosity and hospitality that their hearts are stirred and their eyes are opened. They can see that life is not over, that Jesus remains among them.

But at first they do not see – so this mysterious figure must remind them of what they already know: the prophets, since Moses and the quest for freedom for his people, the prophets have spoken of liberation and justice. The prophets hold a vision of something better in the time to come. Jesus is in this line of prophets.

In  Luke, Jesus is born in poverty, and grows up to share a vision where those who are impoverished and oppressed will find freedom; those who are rich and powerful will get their comeuppance. Cleopas and Jessica live under the oppressive Roman occupation and Jesus holds out a vision of a kindom where people are beloved and free.

Does this mysterious stranger remind Cleopas and Jessica that they are in that same prophetic stream, as followers of the prophet Jesus? 

When they invite this stranger to stay with them, to eat with them, they are following the way of Jesus who taught them there is enough when you share with others. And indeed it is when Jesus prays and breaks the bread that they recognize him. They see that the story is not over, that they are not abandoned but are continuing in the prophetic tradition. 

As happens with the Risen Christ, as soon as the message is received – Jesus vanishes. And they are left with nothing – nothing but a compelling story and renewed energy to spread the word that Jesus is alive. They are left with the prophetic promise of liberation, generosity, and hospitality, these are also moving among them.

It is easy to gloss over the part of the story where Jesus reminds these two disciples of the prophetic tradition of which they are a part. We usually jump right to the exciting scene where Jesus is revealed in the breaking of the bread. We know and understand that ritual of bread breaking. It is a daily occurrence in our lives. And it is the sacred communion ritual in our worship.

And – if we jump too quickly to the revelatory moment, we miss the importance of remembering the tradition of which we are also a part. We miss imagining the list of prophets that Jesus recites. Can’t you just hear Jesus teaching from Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Amos, Micah, Zechariah. All of these prophetic teachers write from difficult and dangerous circumstances to remind the people that although they live in exile or slavery or authoritarianism, or dictatorship, God is with them and freedom will come. In fact, it has already come in some strange way, when they faithfully live into God’s hope of liberation for all, when they love their neighbors as themselves.

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On Friday, Hyattsville Mennonite Church was a co-sponsor of the “Pray-in And Procession for Peace to end the US-Israeli War in Iran.” We were represented there by JoLeah and Josiah, Philip, Mary, Phyllis and myself. We prayed for peace with about 60 others across the Christian tradition and walked from the Capital plaza to the senate buildings while singing songs from the Singing Resistance in Minneapolis. 

We read from the prophets Isaiah, John and Jesus. In our prayers, we named the prophetic tradition in which we find ourselves as Christians. We named the prophets Dorothy Day, Munther Isaac, and Dr Martin Luther King Jr, among others. At least one person wore a t-shirt with that saying from the prophet, John Lewis, “Good Trouble.”

As people of faith, we spoke the words of these prophets, bringing their voices into our midst by recounting their words and work. Were they there with us? Even if we did not recognize them?

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The eyes of Cleopas and Jessica are opened and they recognize Jesus as he breaks the bread. And he immediately disappears from their sight. That is how it is with the holy; we catch a glimpse and then before we can build an altar or erect a tent, the moment is gone. Perhaps that is a strange kind of evidence that we have been in the presence of the Holy; it is a mysteriously fleeting experience. We might hold this close and not say a word. Or we may feel compelled to tell and spread the news. 

Jessica and Cleopas run the seven miles back to Jerusalem to spread the good news that Christ is risen. They are sure that they have unusual and remarkable news for the other disciples. Instead they are greeted by the assembled Jesus followers with the same message: “Christ is risen.” Not only have Cleopas and Jessica seen Jesus, but so has Peter. Which is interesting because in Luke’s gospel, no one else has seen Jesus until now. Earlier in Luke’s version, the only thing that the women and Peter see – is the empty tomb. 

Cleopas, which means “Glory of the Father” in Greek, sees Jesus. The other disciple, unnamed, also sees the risen Jesus. Maybe this unnamed disciple is Luke’s invitation to each reader to enter the story, to also become one who sees the risen Christ. 

With that invitation, how do we spread this amazing word that the prophetic tradition of Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Micah, Jesus continues? With Mary Magdalene, Dorothy Day, Oscar Romero, Munther Isaac, the tradition of calling us to see the Risen Christ continues. In the midst of war and bombings, kidnappings and detention, lies and injustice, destruction and death, can we hold onto that joyful vision of the kindom of God, the Reign of Christ? How do we see and invite others into this kindom without building a monument to it? 

Across generations of oppression, the prophets teach that it is in our living that we help re-create the vision. As followers of the Jesus way, we live and take to heart the words of Jesus. In living out the Jesus way, we may find that sometimes we have taken a step into God’s reign. We might even catch a glimpse of the Risen Christ. —————-

Last night I took another walk along the Northwest Branch. I am here to tell you that the Northwest branch, once thought dead, is alive. I saw at least six osprey, some of them juveniles. And two of them were eating fish they got right out of the river. And humans, there were humans too. I saw teenagers sitting and laughing by the water, children playing baseball and families riding bikes. This watershed that once looked dead is now alive. This is good news that I want to share and I want to do what I can to keep it alive, inviting others into protecting and enjoying our neighbor, the Northwest Branch.

“That same day” that started with such grief and confusion, ends with joy and a recognition of new life. This does not mean there was not pain, horror and death. These are real. The oppressors accomplished what they set out to do, to create fear, to take life. But that was not the last word. That is not the last word. Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed.