Luke 24: 13-51
“Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?" He asked them, "What things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him." Then he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over." So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, "Peace be with you." They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, "Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have." And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, "Have you anything here to eat?" They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence. Then he said to them, "These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you-- that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled." Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.”
Today Mpumi took Julia Ridgway (a teacher visiting from Mississippi) and I to Emmaus Methodist Church, which is all black and Zulu speaking, for morning worship. We drove out of Pinetown and into the surrounding hills in the warm, early morning sun. It was my first trip to the areas surrounding Pinetown, and we were in a rural area very quickly. The road wound up the hill, curving back and forth, overlooking hillside neighborhoods with small houses and into neighborhoods with temporary housing, the small shacks that characterize townships. We passed women carrying large jugs of water on their heads, children dancing barefoot in the streets, and women dressed in red and white, on their way to the church. The women wear red and white dresses with white hats as a mark of their belonging to some sort of women's league, and the men ties and jackets. We pulled up to the church, which was a small building with a tin roof. The sign was the only way to know that this building was, in fact, a church. We parked and were met by the steward of the congregation, a short lady in a red outfit. She greeted us and welcomed us inside, where a few had already gathered. They began to sing happily, which is the way of welcoming visitors, Mpumi told us. They swayed and clapped, and Mpumi made her way around, greeting each of the people gathered there. Julia and I stood awkwardly, completely unaware of what the song was saying; I noticed the astonished looks from the children, who seemed amazed to see a white person in their midst. We sat down and more gathered, singing and swaying, until the preacher arrived. She was a short, older lady, with an unassuming presence. Mpumi told us the order of worship, and that we would be introduced following the offering. The Methodist churches in the small townships still use a set liturgy, a holdover from the missionary Christianity that was brought to them, though it is all in Zulu. Certainly it was no stand still, emotionless, ordinary liturgy. Everything was sung, the swells of their singing becoming loud and emotional. They had taken a Christianity that was given to them by colonists as a means of control, though it was in the name of ‘evangelism’—they had taken this form of the faith and made it their own, singing happily things like the Apostles Creed. Their singing was emotional, happy and painful, bold and humble, all at once. No words I could find would do justice to the sounds that filled the place.
I looked around me, at the tree branches that made up the roof trusses and the light peaking through the tin roof, the carpets that were pieced together to partially cover the concrete floor. Outside the door were women walking down the street, still with large jugs of water on top of their heads, so heavy it would seem they would collapse under the weight. The music swelled again to a spirited pitch, and I looked around at the faces, the small children still watching these strangers who’d shown up, the women and men singing this liturgy with the fervency of a spiritual. The music filled that small space , and I looked out the door again at the dilapidated shack across the street, then over top of it to the crest of the hill next to us. The music must have carried across the town, maybe even down the hillside. The light was bright from the door. It seemed like we were worlds away from anything, lost in a place where only worship mattered. The sun was an intrusion that reminded me that in fact there was a world outside, and it made me notice how much their worship had drawn me in. There was no time to keep and no rush for Sunday lunch.
As the service progressed, the singing became more and more spirited; everyone swayed or danced, one rang a bell, and still others pounded on a sort of cushion that serves as a percussion instrument. I closed my eyes, and felt the music swell over my head, echoing against the tin roof. I had no idea what they were saying, none, but I felt the music down deep, the echoes and moans from the various parts of the congregation building in a low roar of praise. They asked Julia and I to come forward and introduce ourselves, which we did. They again sang our welcome. We took our seats, and the preacher carried on with the sermon, on Exodus 14—Moses leading the Israelites across the parted Red Sea. I had no clue what the sermon was about or what her point was, but I could feel the relationship of a poor and sick people with that of a people long under the slavery of Pharoah, weary and tired of the long journey to freedom, before God intervened and made a way out of no way. I prayed that the words might simply find their way to God, that whatever was being said in the loud shouts of prayer and praise may find God’s ear and be heard. I looked around again at this small group of poor people gathered together in a forgotten place to worship God and proclaim the truth of Jesus Christ, and it struck me that this must be the closest we can get to the early church, the first Christians who were a forgotten people and were relegated to the margins. I have never felt the presence of God so strongly, or the notion that this must have been what Christ came to be, a peace in the midst of chaos to those the powerful and the wealthy had long forgotten. Here is where it is, I thought, the dwelling place of God, Jesus’ kind of people, where we might have found him then and where we might find him now. The singing started again following the sermon, and we all knelt to pray. Each person prayed their own prayers aloud, creating a confusion of words, some impassioned and loud, others subdued and quiet. We rose, sang again, and Mpumi told us it was time to go. We left, and as we walked down the short aisle, we were bid farewell by smiling faces and happy waves. The steward gave us each a hug. We got in the car as the people carried on with their meeting, and drove back down the dusty road into Pinetown.
Today, like those first disciples, Christ appeared to me on the road to Emmaus. I saw His hands and His feet, looked into His eyes and saw His joy and His sadness, His smile and His suffering, and my mind was opened so that I might understand the Scriptures. It was not a ghost. I am a witness to these things. What they said is true—He lives.
