A Song of Ascents - An Easter Sermon by Theodore Gill

A Song of Ascents

Rev. Theodore Gill, WCC Communication
Ecumenical Centre chapel, Geneva
Tuesday 6 April 2010

Scripture lessons: Psalm 118:19-24 and Luke 24:13-35

Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!

“I thank you, for you have answered me and have become my salvation.
“The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone:
“This is the Lord’s doing! It is marvelous in our eyes.”

The verse from Hebrew scripture that is most often quoted in the New Testament is found in our reading from this morning’s psalm: “The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” (Ps.118:22).

Literary critics would give a name to this form of observation: “Irony”. Academics, as is their custom, distinguish among several categories of irony, and one such category is called “situational irony”. In this form of verbal construction, an obvious discrepancy is discerned between what might be expected to happen, normally or logically, and what actually occurs – a discontinuity between assumption and reality. The purpose of literary irony, we are told, is to intensify meaning.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is rich in ironic images. To cite a few …
- the all-powerful Word of God is revealed as a newborn baby
- the divine child is laid in a manger, for there was no room in the inn
- the promised Messiah, the Son of David, enters Jerusalem on a donkey
- behind him there is no conquering army, but the poor of the earth and children bearing leafy branches
- the eternal Son of God discounts equality with God as a thing to be grasped, taking the form of a servant, finally dying on the cross
- and along the way, Jesus teaches in parables that routinely turn people’s everyday expectations on their heads.

No wonder the apostles and evangelists so frequently employed the psalmist’s metaphor: The stone rejected as worthless has become the head of the corner; it now bears the principal load and is found to have the highest value of all!

This verse is part of one of those psalms that are called, in English, “a song of ascents”. It is a psalm of pilgrims ascending – going up – to a festival in Jerusalem, making their way from the plains and foothills below. It is their song of spiritual preparation as they journey toward the gates of righteousness and the Temple precincts beyond.

Jesus and the disciples had made such an ascent to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem. But what transpired there confounded his followers’ expectations. In Luke’s gospel, we are told of two disciples in particular who soon left Jerusalem, descending in confusion from the high country, to a town called Emmaus on the plain. Before they left the city, they had heard of the discovery of the empty tomb; they had heard the account of the women’s angelic vision; they had heard of respected disciples who had gone to the tomb and found the earlier reports credible. But none of this was enough to persuade these two to stay in place and see what would happen next. They made their way instead along the road that led downhill and away.

Along their path they encountered an apparent stranger. (Perhaps he resembled the figure whom Mary Magdalene mistook for a gardener near the tomb – but that is another story.) When this stranger met them on the Emmaus road, he saw that they were profoundly sad. He enquired as to what was troubling them so.

The traveler named Cleopas responded rhetorically: “Are you the only person coming from Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in recent days?”

And here Luke presents us with one more example of situational irony: In fact, this stranger was the only one who truly understood what had been happening.

So the stranger – whom they would recognize as Jesus only later, in the breaking of the bread – first called them foolish for indulging their doubt and self-absorption; then, he proceeded to give them hope that scripture was indeed being fulfilled, hope that God’s promises were being kept.

And once the bread had been broken, and their perception was transformed, Luke tells us that “within the hour” they took to the road again, ascending once more to Jerusalem where the community of Jesus’ followers was gathering to share their experience, their insight, their renewed assurance. And Luke tells us that when they were gathered together, Jesus stood among them; the disciples remained in the city for some time, worshiping daily in the Temple.

Now, of course, that is not the end of the story – not even within the New Testament, much less over the 19 centuries after it. But the gospel writers do emphasize narratives like this for our continuing edification and improvement…

After all, those two travelers on the road to Emmaus were not the last would-be followers of Jesus to go wandering off on their own, in the wrong direction…
(my wife and I spent Easter weekend in Avignon – a majestic medieval city, but also something of a hiccup in the history of western Christianity… a bridge too far…)
No, they would not be the last to head the wrong way, only to be pulled up abruptly, to be forced to turn around and start over again on the ascent to community.

Nor were these the last disciples to be found standing, sad and dejected, so absorbed in a sense of confusion, doubt and abandonment that they momentarily lost the plot of the gospel narrative. Maureen Dowd, a columnist for the New York Times, wondered just this past weekend: “Why does the church seem more prone to self-pity than self-reflection?” I believe the answer to that question is that disciples are only human – and we disciples require regular doses of revelation to rekindle our hearts and minds.

In the case of Cleopas and his companion – perhaps Mrs Cleopas? or possibly just a very close friend? – the central revelation of the day came with the breaking of bread.

Sometimes disciples go astray. For more than sixty years, the constitution of the World Council of Churches has held out as a chief goal of our movement the establishment of one, common eucharistic fellowship, so that we together may join in sharing the one bread and together may recognize Christ in our midst. We feature this vision of “one eucharistic fellowship” in our WCC promotional brochures, but…

What have we done about that goal, lately? Have we made six decades’ worth of progress in this area? Or four-and-a-half decades’ worth, since Vatican II?

My wife and I have known one another for forty years. She comes from one tradition of Christianity, and I come from another. Whenever we have taken communion together in the same service of worship, the action has been considered illicit by someone or another. Will we ever share the same bread, licitly? Perhaps at the feast in the kingdom of heaven…? Again, I wonder: What are we honestly doing to hasten the day of a common eucharist, in this life?

Disciples sometimes wander off, making impressive progress in the wrong direction. At such times, a word of correction should be welcome. Accepting a word of correction may lift us from the mire of self-pity and move us to self-reflection, and at last place our feet once more on the upward road that leads to a more abundant life, together.

Let us pray.

We thank you, Lord: For you have answered us and have become our salvation.
The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.
This is your doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes!

In the name of the Triune God we pray. Amen.