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Presbyopia

Written by Bill Weisenbach

Saturday, 05 April 2008

Presbyopia

Text: Luke 24:13-35
A man on vacation in Florida was walking along the beach one day, when he came upon a little boy who seemed to be lost. The boy was very frightened and told the man that he could not find his way home. So the man took him by the hand and said: "Don’t worry young man, I'll take you to your home, where do you live?" The boy replied: "Mister, you just start walking. I'll tell you when we get there."

This morning's reading from the Gospel of Luke is a similar story. It is a story about a stranger in search of a welcome. Late in the day on that first Easter, a man named Cleopas and a friend were walking along a country road. They really had hoped that Jesus was the one who would restore Israel's glory. But they had seen their hopes and dreams disappear as Jesus died on the cross. So they had left Jerusalem and were making their way back to what may have been their home in Emmaus and along the way, they talked with one another about all that happened.
   As they journeyed a stranger joined them, and it seemed as though that stranger wanted to talk with them. They had never seen this man before. Why was he trying to butt in to their conversation? But Cleopas and his friend decided that there was no harm, so they allowed the stranger to walk with them.
   When they reached Emmaus the sun was already sinking so Cleopas and his friend invited the stranger to stay with them, and to share a meal together. And as they sat down at the table, the stranger took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. And, as the text says, “their eyes were opened and they realized that it was Jesus.
   They had thought they were only welcoming a tired and hungry stranger to sit down and eat with them. But around that table, their hearts had been set on fire, and they realized that Jesus himself had been with them.
   There is an eye condition that some people suffer from called presbyopia. Despite what presbyopia sounds like, it does not afflict just Presbyterians. Rather presbyopia is a condition where the eye is no longer able to focus on objects as well as it used to. Objects can be seen, but they are cloudy and blurred.
   That was the kind of problem that Cleopas and his companion had, a kind of spiritual presbyopia. They could see the stranger who was walking with them, but for some reason they just could recognize who it was.
   Perhaps you have had similar experiences. When I go to the store or run an errand, I usually have an objective, vegetables for dinner or a new handle for the downstairs toilet that snapped. I know what I am looking for, and I am not always very aware of people and things around me. Sometimes I have found myself walking through the ShopRight or Kelloggs and Laurence, and all of a sudden it hits me, that the person I passed a minute ago was someone I knew. Perhaps one of you! If it was, forgive me. I wasn’t ignoring you, I didn’t see you.
   I like to think that Cleopas and his companion did not recognize Jesus along the road, because they just did not expect to see him there. As far as they were concerned, Jesus was dead, and that was the end of the story. It was only later that the hearts of those two were set on fire. It was that act of hospitality that made Jesus come alive for them.
   Just so, it is often in the act of hospitality that Jesus becomes alive for us today.
   But true hospitality take some effort on our part. Most of all it requires time. It takes some of our time to invite and welcome others, and to sit down and really get to know them. It took some time before Cleopas and his friend to discover who it was that was dining with them.
   Now, it is no big secret that Presbyterians like to eat. As a wise elder once said to me, anytime you want a crowd to turn out for something in this church, just serve food. It was the invitation that led that stranger to stay with Cleopas and his companion. And it is the invitation that still provides us with one of the great ways to reach out to those around us.
   Of course there is always a risk involved when we invite others to share in our times of fellowship. When Cleopas and his friend invited that stranger to share a meal with them, they did not really know anything about that stranger. They did not even know his name. Yet it was because of their risk-taking, because of their words of welcome, that they came to see that Christ was in their midst.
   Not every person we invite to share in our fellowship times is going to accept our offer. But the real danger occurs when we stop extending the invitation and ourselves. What if Cleopas and his friend had not invited that stranger in? They would have missed that opportunity of knowing Jesus. And it is the same with us. There can be a great price to be paid when we shut-out and exclude others.
   In our back yard there are more than a thousand women locked up behind barbed wire and iron bars. Themselves, in many cases, victims of a broken world of poverty, inferior education, substandard housing and broken families who have never experienced the hospitality of God and if we are not the instruments of that hospitality, who will be?   The author of Hebrews puts it this way, “Stay on good terms with each other, held together by love. Be ready with a meal or a bed when it's needed. Why, some have extended hospitality to angels without ever knowing it! Regard prisoners as if you were in prison with them. Look on victims of abuse as if what happened to them had happened to you.” (Hebrews 13:1-3[The Message])
   Fred Craddock, one of America's great teachers of preaching, tells the story of a breakfast experience. He was stuck in Winnipeg, Canada and in the midst of an early October snow storm which paralyzed the city. Everything was shut down and his host could not even make it to Fred's hotel to pick him up for breakfast. So, for breakfast, Fred found himself at a crowded bus depot café about two blocks from his hotel. As he entered, somebody scooted over and let him share a booth. A big man with a greasy apron came over to the table and asked him what he wanted. Not knowing what the café served, Fred asked to see a menu.
   "What'd ya want with a menu?" the man asked. "We have soup."
   "Then I'll have soup," he said. Just what he wanted--soup for breakfast.
   The man brought the soup. It was an unusual looking soup. It was grey, the color of a mouse. He did not know what was in it, but he tasted it. Awful! "I can't eat this," he said. So he sat in that crowded café warming his hands around the bowl, railing against the world, stuck in Winnipeg.
   Suddenly the door opened and a woman came in. She was middle-aged and clearly underdressed for the weather. Someone scooted over and let her in a booth. The big man with the greasy apron came over and the whole café heard this conversation:
   "What'd ya want?"
   "Bring me a glass of water, please," she said.
   The man brought the water, took out his tablet and repeated the question. “What'd ya want?"
   "Just the water, thank you."
   "Lady, you gotta order something."
   "Just the water."
   The man's voice started rising: "Lady, I've got paying customers here waiting for a place, now order!"
   "Just the water."
   "You order something or you get out!"
   "Can I stay and get warm?"
   "Order or get out."
   So, she got up. The people at the table where she was seated got up, people around got up, the folks that let Fred sit at the table got up, Fred got up, and they all started moving towards the door.
   "OK," the big man with the greasy apron said, "She can stay." And everybody sat down. He even brought her a bowl of that soup.
   Fred asked the man sitting next to him, "Who is she?"
   "I never saw her before," he said, "but if she ain't welcome, ain't nobody welcome."
   Then Craddock said, all you could hear was the sound of people eating that soup. "Well, if they can eat it, I can eat it," he said. He picked up his spoon and started eating the soup.
   "It was good soup. I ate all of that soup. It was strange soup. I don't remember ever having it. But as I left I remembered eating something that tasted like that before. That soup that day tasted like bread and wine."
   Cleopas and his friend invited a stranger to sit down and eat with them. And it was in that act of hospitality, of making God’s love visible, that their eyes were opened, they were healed of their presbyopia and their hearts were set to burning. Who are the strangers who are waiting for you, do they live next door or in the prison around the corner? May God give us all bright eyes to see.

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