April 6, 2008

Clay Nelson

Easter 2     Luke 24:13-35

In Israel being a tour leader is a cottage industry. Many supplement their incomes by leading Christian and Jewish pilgrims around the “Holy Land.” On my pilgrimage, Abrahim, a professor of Geography most of the year, led us. He was a Lebanese Catholic, so he was assigned Christian pilgrims. He was a faithful person, but he loved tweaking the overly pious. When our bus approached the Sea of Galilee he explained that this is the only place we are certain Jesus walked.

On the Jericho Road headed towards Jerusalem he pointed to an inn and with a straight face told us that was the very inn that the Good Samaritan took the man who was robbed and beaten. Cameras started clicking madly until some started to laugh sheepishly, remembering it was just a story not an historical event.

When we arrived at Emmaus, he tried to pull the same thing saying this was the exact spot that Jesus broke bread with Cleopas and his friend. By this time we were on to him. No one took the bait. He gave us a congratulatory smile and then explained that many through the ages have tried to turn this story into an historical event seeking the actual place it happened. He said there are at least three places in Israel that are said to be Emmaus and none of them conform to the geographical information provided in the story of being seven miles from Jerusalem. However, he conceded, this is as good a place as any to remember the story and remember Jesus by breaking bread together. And so we did and so it became our road to Emmaus.

What I took from that day was that the road to Emmaus is anywhere we are on the road to nowhere. We know the place. It is where high hopes are recently dashed. Where despair is falling on the windshield faster than the wipers can push it away. Then with relief, the highway sign tells us Emmaus is the next exit.

What marks our arrival at Emmaus? It is not hopelessness and despair. As many know that can be a very long road. No, it is determined by whom we meet on the road, but that doesn’t mean just anybody. We just have to remember Job’s so called friends who kept explaining that he was somehow responsible for his misery. It is not the priests and scribes in Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan who carefully walk on the other side so as not to be troubled by the troubles of others. But sometimes we meet someone like the mysterious figure Cleopas and his companion met on the road.

While the story is just that, a story, I believe it reflects the collective memory of Jesus’ followers about Jesus himself. It reflects a core truth about the character of Jesus, even if the words he uses are not his but those of the early church.

What is at his core based on this story? Jesus listens actively. Listening is a caring response. He is not defensive in his response to these disciples who still don’t understand. Nor is he coercive by arguing for who he is, subtly or overtly. Instead he draws out of them what they already know, respecting their autonomy and capacity. And lastly, he does not pull rank. He is non-authoritarian. He does not make them sit down to eat with him; he patiently waits to be invited to join them at their meal. When they finally discover for themselves how to leave the hopeless road they have been travelling, he gets out of their way.

In a word, at the core of Jesus’ character is empathy. Empathy is recognised as being responsive, accepting, and empowering in our relationships with others. I would argue that empathy is the essence of the Emmaus experience. And it is central to the practice of our faith.

What is not central is sympathy. Jesus is not sympathetic towards his disheartened disciples. He does not pity them.

Sympathy feels the pain of another, but goes no further unless it is to find someone or something to blame for our plight. Blaming, like pity, does not bring wholeness.

Empathy, on the other hand, understands the pain of another but empowers them to move beyond it.

Furthermore, as sympathy is about feelings, it is restricted to those to whom you can relate. Empathy is more than feelings. It is cognitive and so is learned. It is available to anyone. If you are able-bodied you may not be able to sympathize with someone who is wheel chair bound, but you can empathize.

If sympathy were at the heart of communion the only people around the table would be people of our own gender, race, age, class, sexual orientation, nationality, political perspective and belief. If that were the case, most of us would be having communion alone.

But empathy begets empathy. Empathy does not divide but brings people together, not in mutual agreement, but in mutual understanding. It is a conscious act of giving that empowers others to give as well. It is what we give and receive at communion.

Empathy is what forms and defines us as Christians. Empathy is our mission. It is at the root of our social service, our prophetic calls for justice, our caring for the planet, our striving for peace, and for our random acts of kindness.

To see an example of its effectiveness we only have to look at the Democratic primary in the United States. As those closest to me are fully aware, I am a wee bit obsessed by the campaign – and that is putting it kindly. I have a variety of reasons, but mostly because I have never seen another candidate quite like Barack Obama. He clearly doesn’t understand how politics is played in the US or probably anywhere else.

He was recently on his own road to Emmaus after appearing to have the contest wrapped up. A conservative cable news network, with some encouragement I suspect from his opponent, began showing continuously a loop of snippets from his black pastor’s sermons that were suppose to scare white America. It looked like the good times were over. A lot less has sunk other good candidates. Then he gave a speech addressing race in America entitled “A more perfect union,” an opening phrase of the US Constitution describing its purpose.

The speech was historic for so many reasons: eloquent, honest and courageous are most mentioned. However, most pundits missed its most unique quality. Politicians often speak in sympathetic terms modifying their sympathies for whichever group they are courting. They assure those voters they feel their pain and promise to go after those they think are to blame. What we heard instead from Senator Obama was a speech that offered us Emmaus. He empathized with all America. He showed understanding of how the racial divide has hurt everyone. He was responsive to the racism no one was openly talking about. He did not play the blame game or seek to save himself by throwing his pastor under the bus. He trusted that Americans could sort it out if they faced up to it. As comedian Jon Stewart pointed out, he spoke to Americans like adults. He encouraged Americans to empathize with each other for the good of all. It should not surprise you to know he is a quietly committed member of the most progressive Christian denomination in America.

At the end of the speech, which you can watch on Youtube, he retold the Emmaus story not just for Americans but for all of us.

“There is one story in particularly that I’d like to leave you with,” he said.

“There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

“And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that’s when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

“She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

“She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

“Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother’s problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn’t. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

“Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they’re supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who’s been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he’s there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, “I am here because of Ashley.”

“I’m here because of Ashley.” By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger.”

Now I can tell Abrahim about another place to find Emmaus: Florence, South Carolina.

Senator Barach Obama's "A More Perfect Union"