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Dealing with the Unfamiliar

ANCHORS OF HOME

Dealing with the Unfamiliar

July 15, 2007

Text: Luke 24:28-43

Luke 24:28-43

28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 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. 30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32 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?" 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

36While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, "Peace be with you." 37 They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. 38 He said to them, "Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? 39 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." 40 And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. 41 While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, "Have you anything here to eat?" 42 They gave him a piece of broiled fish, 43 and he took it and ate in their presence.

NRSV

I’d like you to remember the last time you moved, to another city or state.

For my family, it was late February, 1999. Eight and a half years.

Hard to believe.

But I still remember the feeling. Saying goodbye to Columbia, Missouri, where I’d spent over fourteen years, and where I married Barb and where Cameron was born. Then coming to St. Louis.

A place where people kept asking what high school I came from.

A place where people have multiple names for the same street. Isn’t that Lindbergh? No, that’s Kirkwood Road. Isn’t that Gravois? No, it’s Broadway. Isn’t that Morganford? No, that’s Union. [Some folks had a cruel sense of humor when they named those streets!]

I go into the office, talk to the staff, and have to learn all sorts of procedures, that have all sorts of history behind them.

I talk to church leaders and members, and hear all sorts of stories and traditions that make up our CTUMC family. For example, I discovered that we have four church seasons, while other churches have only three: Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, and Pumpkin Patch.

It took quite a bit of time to ease into South County, to feel at home.

In looking back, my family and I did one basic thing that helped us settle in.

It’s that one thing that can help any family that’s feeling as if they’re in strange, unfamiliar territory.

That strange territory may be the result of moving. Or taking another job. Or when a child grows up and leaves home. Or when there’s a crisis, such as health or finances, death or divorce. There are all sorts of things that can cast a family into unfamiliar territory.

But regardless of the cause—whether exciting or depressing—there’s still one thing a family can do to tame the unfamiliar.

You can see this one thing in the Scripture story today.

Remember that the friends of Jesus were now in unfamiliar territory.

For three years they had been with him. He had been the center of their lives. They had left jobs and home towns to be with him. They had felt more alive than ever before when they were with him. His face, with those knowing yet compassionate eyes. His voice, that conveyed not just new insights but also unconditional acceptance.

And now it was over. That face beaten. That voice silenced, just after he screamed, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

It was more than they could bear.

These friends of Jesus had to start the arduous task of starting over. Returning to the lives they had left so long before. Returning not just to the possible ridicule of former friends and neighbors and maybe family—“Yeah, you were one of his followers? You sure were fooled!” They had to return to life lived in the shadow of shattered hopes and dreams. You think they would ever think anything good could happen to them, after what they saw happen to Jesus???

You and I know how their story ends, though. You know they’re able to hope and dream again. The unfamiliar territory of life without the earthly Jesus became tamed by the resurrected Christ.

Did you hear how this Christ tamed that strangeness for them?

Look VERY carefully at two parts of the passage.

After he’s walked and talked with the men on the Emmaus Road, he’s persuaded by them to spend the night. And it’s written:

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.

The men run back to Jerusalem. They tell the other disciples there what had happened. While they do that, Jesus appears again. It’s said that “in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering.” So Jesus did something to convince them:

“[Jesus] 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.”

See the link between the two passages?

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.

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.

What’s the connection?

FOOD!

You want to tame the unfamiliar? You want to deal with stressful situations for your family? The solution is right here, before your very eyes.

EAT!

Yep. Food.

Well, no—it’s not food. It’s the ACT of eating food. It’s the RITUAL of eating that’s important. For Jesus’ disciples, it wasn’t the bread. It wasn’t the fish. It was the act of eating with Jesus that made it so very good, deep down in their souls, not just their stomachs.

Jesus must have had a distinctive way of eating. Maybe the way he blessed food. Maybe the way he handled food. Maybe the type of food he liked. Maybe the way he ate the food.

And now, they were eating with him once again. Just as they had eaten with him around campfires, in more carefree times. Just as they had eaten with him on beaches. In homes. In an “upper room.”

It was in the RITUAL of eating that they felt the closest to Jesus. They could relax with him, enjoy his laughter, feel his love, glimpse his faith, experience his hope. And now that RITUAL of eating bonded them together with the Master once again, conquering the seeming defeat of the cross. What they experienced by joining Jesus in eating convinced them more than seeing the nail prints in his hands and feet. The RITUAL of eating convinced their hearts, and that was what’s important.

I guess you could say that a ritual…

…TAMES THE UNFAMILIAR.

Our family used this same ritual to help us settle into St. Louis.

The members of the Staff-Parish Relations Committee were very gracious, and gave us gift certificates to various restaurants in the area. That’s how we got familiar with places with strange and sometimes misspelled names, like P’sghetti’s. During those first couple of months here, we’d go to a different place each week. It was like we were doing that familiar ritual of eating together in a new place—and that made that new place feel familiar as well.

The last time our family ate out was a week ago. We went to Ponderosa. It’s called a “steak house,” but I call it a “graze house.” As we grazed the buffet, I discovered something delightful. On one serving table sat a big platter of fried chicken. Not just any chicken, but chicken that tasted exactly the way I remember my mom making it. There was a tub of mashed potatoes nearby. Not just any mashed potatoes—not like the kind you get from a box—but mashed potatoes that had substance to them, had a rich, buttery taste—just like Mom made. Beside the potatoes was a vat of cream gravy. Not just any cream gravy, but “sweet” cream gravy—it had a hint of sugar in it, just the way my mom made it.

Ponderosa lost money on me that night.

This was a meal from my past. The only thing missing were black-eyed peas and a slice of hot apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

As I ate, I remembered how Dad would take a roll and dip it in the gravy—“sopping” it, he called it. That’s what I did in Ponderosa, in memory of Dad.

Eating that fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and cream gravy at the age of 53, brought me back to that feeling of being 13, eating with my folks—the mom and dad who loved me, sacrificed for me, would do anything for me.

Ever do that? Be transported back in time? I’m sure you have. You do something with your family “now,” that links you to your family “back then.”

A ritual tames the unfamiliar…

…BY CONNECTING YOU TO THE PAST…

But it does more than that.

Those men we read about in today’s passage—they continued the ritual of eating bread, “in remembrance” of Jesus. As they left Jerusalem and went up the coast of Palestine, establishing fledgling churches, they ate together. As they preached the Gospel and welcomed new brothers and sisters into the church, they ate. As they grew old, and saw those young Christians turn into mature Christians, they ate.

As they continued their ritual year in, year out, they witnessed the flow of life. The young grew up. The old grew down. And through it all, insights and questions, fears and tears, hopes and dreams, were all shared around the table.

A ritual tames the unfamiliar by connecting you to the past,

…AND BY GIVING YOU WISDOM TO MOVE AHEAD.

A father and son established a ritual.

It wasn’t eating—it was going out each year, just the two of them, into nature and doing something fun. One year it’d be camping out. Another, a hike. Yet another, a float trip.

Year after year.

Finally, as the boy moved into his teen years, the father planned an especially challenging trip into the Canadian Boundary Waters wilderness. After a few hours of paddling their canoe, like they’d done so many times before, they came upon some rapids. Before the father, paddling from the back of the canoe, could bark out orders to play it safe, his son shouted from the front, “Why don’t we run it?” The father was hesitant. “Let’s go straight for it,” the boy repeated, and steered the canoe into the center of the white foam.

All sorts of things happened in the next few minutes, including the canoe capsizing. But after it was over, father and son were bobbing in the water, laughing, enjoying this chaotic moment together.

Of this incident, the dad wrote,

“Only later did it occur to me that during the whole misadventure, we’d been swapping roles of boy and man…My boy laughed all the way downstream while I—like my own father—wound up desperate with worry. I was teaching Adam to be a man, but at the same time he was reminding me not to forget my own boyishness. He was also demonstrating something else: that he could occasionally be more sensible and grown-up than I am; that he could sometimes be right when I am wrong; that some small part of him already is an adult.” --Stefan Bechtel, “Rapid Rites of Passage,” Chicken Soup for the Father’s Soul.

I guess there are all sorts of learnings you discover as you continue your rituals…

…As you go out to dinner at that special place year after year, and your child moves from eating free on kids’ nights to eating more than you. And you talk and listen and reflect.

Yes, there are all sorts of learnings you discover as you continue your rituals…

…As you go year after year to the beach, and your child moves from making sand castles to making eyes at the cute guy or girl, who’s also vacationing with their family at the same time.

Rituals enable conversations and reflections you will not get anywhere else. They provide safe, secure space. They reveal life in vividness and color. And in the end, they convey to you that life is good, life is a gift, and you can accept it with gratitude and move on.

So—what rituals do you have, to anchor your home?

A special place to eat out?

A special way to “eat in”?

A special place to get away from it all?

A special way to start the day, or end the day?

A special phrase you say over the supper table?

What rituals might you start?

A walk on a trail? A “bike hike”?

Jesus knew the importance of rituals. He used one to turn an everyday event into a Resurrection experience.

Oh yes, he used another ritual as well.

He knew his followers were in unfamiliar territory. To bond them with him, he said, “Eat with me.”

But I can’t help but think that after supper, he might have said,

“And remember—when you pray, pray like this:

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.”