Easter 3

“Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” (Lk 24:5)

The great challenge of living well into late life is the loss of so many of our long friendships. Those who have been the foundation of our life. The friends of our childhood, the mile markers of our journey along the path of life. I used to quip that I enjoy funerals more than weddings.  You’ve been there. At weddings you suit up in tuxedo or a lovely frock. Accept a glass of champagne from a passing server. Sit at a table, stiffly, with eight strangers. Can’t have a conversation, music’s too loud. Head for the parking lot as soon as the cake is cut. 

A funeral is a time of shared remembrance. A time of shared loss as you bid farewell to another close friend. It is a time of shared pain, knowing you will not see that loved one in life again.  Yet it is a time of celebration, a time of wonder.  In shared words of remembrance, you come to know this departed friend, perhaps for the first time. As you know, I was in the Navy.  At the funeral of a close friend, I learned from others present that he, too, had been in the Navy.  He never spoke about it.  A purple heart was discovered in his desk drawer. He never spoke about it. I learned that every week he visited the elderly, offered pastoral care in a local senior residence. He never spoke about it. Who knew?

Josephine and I were married for 55 years.  It was only at her funeral that I came to know her.  In the spoken remembrances of her friends, so many friends, I discovered the impact of her life on the lives of others. I had known her in many shared experiences. At home, I witnessed her grace in giving life to our six children. On the road, exploring countless new places, together.  But I never comprehended the impact of her life on her many, so many friends. The reception following her funeral was standing room only. During the story-telling, a voice cried out: “What is Joso’s telephone number?” The entire room erupted: “203-869-6953!” Everyone knew.  In that moment I came to know her, for the first time. I discovered the living, among the dead.

It is the evening of the third day following the Crucifixion. Those who followed Jesus, his disciples, are overwhelmed with grief.  The man for whom they abandoned family, friend and livelihood…is dead. The man they traveled with, ate and slept with for three years…is dead. The man who performed miracles, fed the five thousand, raised Lazarus from the grave…is dead.  Their hoped-for messiah, the man who came in power and glory to overthrow the yoke of Rome, is dead.  They are confused, frightened. Peter denies Jesus three times. Terrified, they go the mattresses within a locked upper room.  Perhaps it was a mistake to follow this man. Soon they will discover how little they knew of this man, this Jesus, during his life amongst them.

Very early this morning, Mary Magdalene and her companions go to the tomb. They discover the tomb is empty. There they encounter two strangers robed in dazzling clothes. Who ask of the women: “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” (Lk 24) In their moment of angelic inspiration, the women understand.  Instantly, they remember ‘all that Jesus had told them:’ “that the Son of Man must suffer many things, be rejected by the elders and chief priests and the scribes, be killed, and after three days rise again.” (Mk 8:31) Overcome with joy, Mary and her companions rush to reveal their good news to the disciples. To those same disciples who consistently failed to understand Jesus.  Peter is the prisoner of his worldly image of Jesus.  He rebukes Jesus as Jesus forecasts his death upon the cross. “Not going to happen,” Peter shrugs it off.  Mary’s joyful news will not change the unshakeable views of these eleven men. They dismiss her message as: “Nothing more than the useless chatter of women.” 

Late this evening, two men travel the road to Emmaus. They are downcast. They have lost hope in the man Jesus they knew in life.  They have turned their back on Jerusalem. They walk away from the place where the Son of God was revealed on the Cross. They were told of the empty tomb. But they departed on their seven-mile journey in the freshness of morning. Before they might have learned of Mary Magdalene’s subsequent encounter with the risen Christ, whom she first mistakes for the gardener. (Jn 20:17ff)[i]

As the two walk along the road, they are overtaken by another traveler.  One whom they describe as ‘a stranger.’  Jesus, this ‘stranger,’ asks them: “what have you all been talking about…?” Jesus’ is curious. Did Cleopas and his companion understand the Divine message revealed on the Cross? “What have you been talking about?”  Now Cleopas responds to Jesus, the central figure of all that has happened in Jerusalem. His words, heavy with irony, ask: “Jesus, are you the only one who does not understand?” Our hope for the world is dashed.  Our messiah, the one we relied on to overthrow the yoke of Roman oppression, is dead.  Cleopas and his companion do not recognize this man, the living Jesus, from among the dead.

Jesus gently encourages them: “from childhood, you were raised with the scriptures. Have you foolishly forgotten all you were taught?”  So, as they walk on, Jesus, the teacher, encourages them to remember the words of the prophets who promised the coming of the Son of Man. And as the evening shadows lengthen, Jesus instructs the travelers in the words of ancient scripture that prophesy the coming of the Suffering Servant.  

Would that you and I were with them to hear the words Jesus spoke as they walked on together, towards Emmaus, that evening.

In December, my family and I witnessed the performance of The Messiah, Handel’s glorious oratorio.  In that work of power and beauty, I hear the words that Jesus might well have spoken to his companions as they walked on into the darkening evening, along that road to Emmaus.

In these ancient words of Isaiah, I hear Jesus comforting the travelers, encouraging them to cast off their grief.  Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, Saith your God; For ev’ry valley shall be exalted, the crooked straight and the rough places plain.  Be joyful, my companions:  For unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given” (Isa 40:1; 9:6). Wipe the tears from your eyes.  For through his suffering, we receive the blessed gift of salvation. “He was despised and rejected of men;” “Yet with his stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:3-5).  No longer is he the prisoner of death: “Because thou didst not leave his soul in hell” (Ps 16:10) No, he has risen to the Father: “Lift up your heads, O ye gates” (Psalm 24:7). And invites us to enter the universal kingdom of Christ.  “Hallelujah, Hallelujah: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.” (Rev 19:6)

No wonder the travelers appeal to Jesus to stay on with them for a few days. Who wouldn’t want to remain in the presence of this risen Christ. Now, in their closing moments together, in the breaking of bread and sharing of the common cup, Cleopas and his friend recognize the living Jesus. The one whom they thought was dead. And they rush on to share their good news with the eleven disciples, “I know that my redeemer liveth.” (Job 19:25)

As we are called to do, on our journey through life.

  [i] Murphy, The Story of Emmaus

Works Referenced:

This is a sermon delivered to the congregation of Emmanuel Church, Newport, RI on April 19, 2026. I am indebted to the following for their insights into the lectionary: Joel B. Green, The Gospel of Luke, Eerdmans (1997); J. Gilbert Miller,PhD, The Road to Emmaus, Illumify Media Global, (2019); Rev. Richard T. Murphy, O.P., The Gospel for Easter Monday, The Story of Emmaus, Dominican House of Studies

Roger C. Bullard, MDiv

April 19, 2026