Sermons
The Rev. Eric K. Hinds
Rector, St. Matthew's Episcopal Church
Sermon preached by The Reverend Eric Kimball Hinds at the Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew, San Mateo, California, on 6 April 2008, the Third Sunday of Easter. Lessons: Acts: 2:14a, 36-41; Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17; 1 Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35
Every four years, one way or another, I inevitably end up setting aside some of my cynicism, my doubts and concern about the state of the world, and I watch some portion of the Olympic Games. Over the years I have collected a patchwork of memories.
On a summer night in 1996 I watched as the Olympic torch made its way into the stadium in Atlanta. That night there was heightened suspense over who would be given the honor of being the final athlete to transfer the Olympic flame to the Olympic caldron high atop the stadium. And then suddenly there was a familiar athlete at the top of the stadium with his hand holding the torch shaking--both from the Parkinson’s, and from the enormity of the moment--the filled stadium along with over 3 billion television viewers watched as Muhammad Ali lowered the torch to send the Olympic flame up Towards the caldron where flames quickly leap up producing A blaze of orange against the night sky, dramatically announcing the opening of the XXVI modern Olympiad. What made that moment so special—so poignant, was unique, and complicated set of circumstances and events embodied in the person of Muhammad Ali.
In Rome, in the year 1960, many Americans first became acquainted with a young black boxer from Louisville named Cassius Clay who won a Gold medal. During a socially tumultuous time for our country America watched as this loquacious and exuberant boxer embodied many of the conflicts of our nation. A black man fighting for recognition at a time of racial turmoil; his announced name change to Muhammad Ali corresponded with; his conversion to Islam which was eventually followed by his refusal to fight or support the war in Vietnam on moral grounds. His ability to generate press and to promote himself was paired with the high drama of the boxing ring. It was perhaps Ali’s connection to the hopes of a nation hungering to make strides towards racial equality, and his subsequent work as an ambassador for several humanitarian causes, that cast his battle with Parkinson’s in such stark relief. Ali’s condition that night prompted David Remnick to observe that “In Ali we see the frailty even of a man whose job it was to be the most fearsome figure on the globe.” Watching--we knew so much about the history and the struggles of the man and of our nation--that the mere fact that Ali was standing atop the stadium seemed a celebration all in itself.
In the gospel accounts of Jesus, we are given a figure about whom we likewise know an enormous amount. In a short time he gathered a substantial following. His words and deeds spread throughout the region of Galilee, and he became known to the officials and crowds of the city of Jerusalem.
That Jesus was known as a healer, with a special compassion for the poor and disenfranchised, made it almost impossible for him to move or travel without being recognized; and yet, in the account of his resurrection appearance on the road to Emmaus two followers of Jesus are not able to recognize the risen Lord. They are abreast of all the recent news regarding Jesus of Nazareth, including the women’s discovery of the empty tomb, but they fail to recognize Jesus when he joins them on the road to Emmaus. And yet we are told that Jesus continues with them to Emmaus and engages the two--not in idle conversation, but in a discussion that seems to explore the very heart of God’s prophetic vision for humankind.
And then Luke tells us a strange and amazing thing, at the end of the day’s journey, when the three of them gather at the table, the Lord Jesus is revealed to them in the blessing and breaking of the bread. It is as if to say that to Journey with Jesus, is to begin to approach and enter a deeper level of awareness of God’s call to be alive to a world infused and transformed by God’s love and grace. At Emmaus we have an image of eyes opening to recognize Jesus. It is an image that reaches back to the Garden of Eden--where Adam and Eve’s eyes were opened to a world of complexity--where good and evil often exist together--and as much as one wishes that we could forever live in the sheltered world of the garden--and remain blind to the great and urgent needs of the world--blissfully unaware of any strife, or pain, or suffering. In the breaking of bread Jesus reminds us of the sacramental nature of life. Just a Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it back--so are our lives taken up into the heart and purpose of God--blessed and transformed--and given back to us that we might be a living sacrament.
In his life and ministry, Jesus never escaped for long the pressing and immediate concerns of the people whom he encountered. To remain open to the needs of the world--to have one’s eyes open--and to engage in the challenges of our community and beyond is no easy task. This week, the Bay area will be reminded of the upcoming summer gathering of athletes from the nations of the world to be held in China--when The Olympic Torch arrives in San Francisco enroute to the August opening ceremonies in Beijing. If you have been following the news then you will be aware of the mixed reception that the Olympic torch is likely to receive. China’s recent actions in Tibet, and the nations association with the government in the Sudan are just two of the issues that have mobilized protesters who plan to line the route in an attempt to focus world attention upon human rights issues.
Perhaps you share some of the conflict that I feel about such organized protests. On the one hand I have a strong desire to respect the ideals of the Olympic movement. Having all the nations of the world gather for anything is a significant event—but that the games are specifically held to encourage and foster a greater sense of unity across the globe is no small thing—and so one has I think a natural tendency to want to keep politics out of the Olympics—And yet, one can empathize with those who feel the frustration of attempting to focus attention upon a significant concern somewhere in the world that is met with indifference or with a negligible response.
A good example is provided by concerns over mounting deaths and allegations of genocide in Darfur. In the year 2005, two years into the Darfur crisis NBC & CBS News combined aired only 5 segments covering the dire situation and the mounting death toll. By contrast, those two networks during that same period in 2005 aired over 300 reports covering the romantic relationship between Tom Cruise and Katie Holms.
And so one see’s the attraction of using the procession of the Olympic Torch as a forum to focus attention upon the plight of various causes. Darfur is a poor nation in a remote corner of the world, torn by ongoing fighting, with no easy answers to resolve the conflict. We wish the answer were as easy as our sending and distributing bread, or securing China’s support for the UN’s program of action. It is the very complexity though of the existing political, social and economic conditions in Sudan that overwhelm us—and effectively neutralize our capacity to offer a meaningful response. For Christians it is helpful to remember that Jesus was at times overwhelmed by the needs of the crowds that pressed in upon him; and in the Gospels we see that Jesus regularly retreats to a quiet place for prayer and for rest from responding to the needs of others.
Maybe the travel together on the road to Emmaus speaks to us of the importance of the journey—of our journey. Of our engagement with Jesus and his showing his followers that Jerusalem, the temple, synagogue, or in our day a church, are not the only places where holy encounters take place--and that a tomb is not the final resting place for our faith. We will not be able to respond to every care and concern of the world, but with Christ, in the sacrament of the breaking of bread together in community our eyes are opened to the needs and challenges that surround us.
Frederick Buechner reminds us that at the most basic level “a sacrament is simply when something holy happens. It is transparent time—time when you can see through to something deep inside time. The wounds of the resurrected Christ remind us that Jesus engaged the world to the very end of his life.” Commenting on our human condition Frederick Buechner observes that “if we weren’t as blind as bats, we might see that life itself is sacramental.” At every opportunity Jesus gathered all who would come to share in table fellowship. And at Emmaus, Jesus again broke bread for us that in the light of the resurrection our eyes might ever be open.
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