You’d think Abram would be in a pretty secure place come the start of chapter 16, but, as we heard it really doesn’t go well. In fact whilst in the past we’ve seen Abram buckle into sin, here he really messes up. But as he and Sarai do, in the midst of the total mess they create, we see a moment of grace, as, for the first time in the Bible, someone names God, and it is the last person you’d expect.
On the road to Emmaus burdened hearts become burning hearts. They’re trudging home, exhausted, disillusioned, confused. All their hopes have died with Jesus on that cross and lie with him in the cold of the tomb. We’re back on that first Easter Sunday and as far as anyone is aware, as dawn breaks, Jesus is still in the tomb.
But what’s interesting about these two on the road is where they’ve come from. Our reading begins that on the same day ‘two of them were going to a village called Emmaus’. Two of them? Two of who?
Jesus is risen, he is alive and lives forevermore. Now what.
In that first letter of Peter which we just heard Peter is writing to a group of Gentile believers who have come to faith in Jesus. His aim is to answer that question; now what? How are they to live as followers of Jesus in the midst of a culture that is hostile to their newfound faith? But he doesn’t start there, he starts with hope.
‘The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it’. So begins the film the Lord of the Rings the Fellowship of the Ring. It starts in total darkness with that voiceover before the title card appears at the end of that sentence and the strings of the orchestra play a melody which will thread through the entire trilogy. It has stuck with me since I first watched it partly because it’s an utterly captivating way to start a film, but also because the first half resonates so deeply with our Christian faith.
The world is changed. Changed by the events we celebrate today.
No matter the darkness you find yourself in, Jesus is already there.
As we stand at the foot of the cross we stand in darkness. Literal darkness; we read that darkness covered the land from noon until Jesus’ death three hours later. And metaphorical darkness as Jesus goes down into the very depths with us. And as we stand here in the darkness, we find that Jesus is here with us. And that no matter the darkness we face in our lives, Jesus is already there. The darkness of life’s hardships, the darkness of sin, and the darkness of death.
…And it starts with the news that Lazarus is ill, it’s noted that his sisters are Mary and Martha, who we’ve met in the other Gospels, and they send word to Jesus that ‘the one you love is ill’. From what we can tell from the Gospels Jesus becomes good friends with this little family of 3, and so naturally they send word to him, he’s a miracleworker and his friend is ill, why wouldn’t you contact him.
But by the time he gets there Lazarus is dead. Indeed Jesus knows he is dead before he gets there. And we have repeated on the lips of both sisters a declaration of faith and of despair ‘if you had been here my brother would not have died’.
Whenever I’m celebrating the Patronal Feast of one of the churches in my care, the Saint’s Day of the Saint the church is dedicated to, I find that they’re a bit like birthdays. Like so many of our ancient churches we don’t know the exact date this place first echoed with the sound of praise and worship, and so the patronal for me fills that space, a chance to celebrate the life of the church and community in this place. And, like we often do on our birthdays, I find myself reflecting back, back on the year, and years, that have past. Maybe you find yourself doing the same today, reflecting on years that have past here. Or perhaps you find yourself doing that about your life.
…And that in many ways is what I want to focus on this morning but looking at the events that fit immediately after Peter’s declaration of who Jesus is, and the events of the transfiguration 6 days later. Because as soon as Peter has recognised Jesus, Jesus starts speaking plainly about his mission. Speaking about how he will be betrayed, killed, and on the third day rise again. And how, if we would follow him, we too are to take up our cross and follow in his steps. There’s this stark warning of the suffering that awaits Jesus, and therefore the struggle and suffering that awaits all believers. And this is then followed with the transfiguration, the revealing of Jesus’ glory. Suffering, then glory.
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, and the earth was tohu va bohu. We tend to translate those words formless and void or empty. It’s a picture of chaos and disorder and yet here over the waters is the God who brings order and life out of chaos and darkness.
Jesus’ ministry is at its heart one of transformation, we see that in the lives of those who meet him, whose lives are utterly transformed by his call and his presence. But it’s about transformation at a deeper level too, right down to the very atoms of our cosmos. Jesus has come to transform our whole universe.