Sermon 04.27.2025: Breaking Bread: Hospitality Is How We Recognize Jesus

After the resurrection of Jesus, he walks with two men to a village called Emmaus. But his companions do not recognize who he is until they sit down and break bread with him. When have we walked with Jesus without even realizing it? How might we recognize Jesus in others and in the world?

Scripture

Luke 24:13-35

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.

Sermon

In 1995, (which was thirty years ago, by the way!) I was thirteen years old, and Joan Osborne came out with a song called “One of Us”. Now, during the passing of the peace, some of you shared with your neighbors a song you liked as a teenager. And this is one of the songs I liked as a teenager. 

For those unfamiliar with it, the song’s lyrics wonder out loud: 

If God had a name, what would it be? 

And would you call it to His face 

If you were faced with Him…? 

What would you ask if you had just one question? 



And then the chorus goes: 

What if God was one of us 

Just a slob like one of us 

Just a stranger on the bus 

Tryin’ to make His way home? 

Some of you may know it. If you don’t, maybe find it online and listen to it on your way home. 

This song, believe it or not, caused quite a stir with many religious communities denouncing it and speaking out against it. Some even picketed Joan Osborne’s concerts, claiming blasphemy and sacrilege. And sadly, most of these religious communities called themselves Christian. I remember being so confused about that as a teenager because I called myself a Christian, too, and the song really resonated with me. 

I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it then, but I think it’s because, as I more fully understand it now, the story of our faith, is that, in Jesus Christ, God actually did become one of us. Jesus was not only fully divine; he was also fully human. God came to this world and chose to live among us, walk among us, to be one of us. 

And in today’s story, God, through Jesus, was also a stranger, not a stranger on a bus, like in Osborne’s song, but a stranger on a road, on the road to Emmaus. 

Now, we probably know and remember that Lent is a season: 40 days and 40 nights before Easter. But oftentimes, we forget that Easter, too, is a season. 

It doesn’t end with the packed pews and the orchestra and the flowers of last week. It continues, in fact, until Pentecost, which happens in June. 

Eastertide, the season of Easter, is often missed or forgotten by us. And perhaps it’s so easy to leave behind because the agents of death and destruction in the world are often so much louder and more prevalent than the agents of new life and resurrection. 

So, perhaps as we come together this morning, we find ourselves much like these two disciples on their journey to Emmaus. We may have “gotten it” on Easter morning; we may have felt the hope of the empty tomb, the transformed life of the resurrection, but that was a whole week ago! 

And on this second Sunday of Eastertide, we may find ourselves wondering, as these two disciples did: What really happened? Was it all foolishness? 

We’re not so sure where we stand anymore. And perhaps, though we felt God’s presence profoundly last Sunday, it now already feels like a distant memory. Where is God now? Where is Christ now? 

Commentator Alan Culpepper asks, “Is there any persuasive reason to believe that Jesus really was raised from the dead or that God is present in the turbulence of our lives?” And it’s a good question.

I mean, have you seen this world? The cruelty, the pain, the brokenness? If we’re honest, we could probably all use a good escape from the horrors that somehow seem to get worse every day. 

Theologian Fredrick Buechner depicts Emmaus as “the place we go in order to escape – a bar, a movie, [I would add: the gym or our phones]; wherever it is we throw up our hands and say, ‘… It makes no difference anyway.’ Emmaus is whatever we do or wherever we go to make ourselves forget…” 

We are all on the road to Emmaus in some form or fashion - trying to walk away from the drama and the heartache that is Jerusalem. But on that journey of walking away, of hoping to forget, we are occasionally confronted: What if God is one of us? What if we can’t turn away because God is that stranger on the bus; or on the street; that stranger right in front of us waiting to reveal God’s very self to us. 

Today’s scripture reminds us that the risen Lord meets us on the road to our Emmauses, in the ordinary places and experiences of our lives, and in the places to which we retreat when life feels too much for us. 

The story warns us, however, that the Lord may come to us in unfamiliar guises, when and where we least expect him. (Buechner) 

Jesus told a parable about this in Matthew Chapter 25. In it, he shares a vision of the future. All the nations and people are gathered before him, and the sheep and the goat are separated. And he says to the sheep: “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” 

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” 

And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” 

Calvary has committed to being a Matthew 25 church, which means we have committed to serving Christ in the world through serving those who are the most vulnerable and oppressed. Jesus tells us that, the way you treated the most vulnerable and marginalized in our society is how we have treated him.” (Matthew 25:34-46). 

And it’s important to note that Jesus doesn’t say to do these things because that’s what he would’ve done, although it is what he would’ve done. He says to do these things because he is the one who is hungry and poor and a stranger in our society. 

By the way, that Greek word for “stranger” here? Literally translates to “foreigner” or “immigrant.” 

So how are we treating the foreigner and the immigrant among us? Because that is how we are treating Jesus. 

Friends, God is one of us. And when we open our hearts and extend hospitality to those who are most in need, we welcome God into our lives. We serve Christ, when we serve one another. 

Radical Christian hospitality demands that we stop seeing one another as threats, as scapegoats, as the enemy, or the “other,” and to start seeing one another not only created in the image of God, but as bearers of the image of God. 

Pope Francis, who died just this past week, (may he rest in peace) once said, “In the poor and outcast, we see Christ’s face. By loving and helping the poor, we love and serve Christ.” 

Now, the Pope and I didn’t agree on everything. But I respected his humility and his leadership. 

Every year, on Maundy Thursday, it is Catholic tradition that the pope wash the feet of twelve individuals. And during his papacy, Pope Francis included, for the first time, women, non-Catholic immigrants like Muslims, Hindus, and those in refugee camps and prisons. Hospitality and welcome draw the circle of inclusion wider and wider, until every single person is included. 

Now, the Greek word for hospitality is philoxenia. It is a compound word that brings together philo meaning loving and xenos meaning stranger, foreigner, or immigrant. So the word for hospitality in the Bible literally means to love the stranger or to love the immigrant. 

But that word philo in Greek is also the root word for friend or to befriend. So if you’re wondering how to love the stranger, how to be hospitable, it means to befriend those whom we do not yet know. 

Now, in eighth grade, I had just changed middle schools. And it’s hard enough to try and make new friends in middle school, but when everyone else has known each other since sixth grade, it can be especially awkward. 

I was doing mostly fine in the classroom, but it was lunch time that was brutal. 

Everyone already knew where their friends sat in the cafeteria, and they had their own tables. They weren’t numbered or labeled, but they knew. 

So that meant, I had to squeeze between friend groups and get ignored for thirty minutes as I ate my lunch. Usually, I’d just inhale my food and then go hide in the bathroom. Admittedly, it was kind of awful for the first couple weeks. But then one day, as I was hiding out in the bathroom, two girls came in and noticed me, a stranger. 

One of them said, “I like your shirt.” The other one asked, “Do you wanna come sit with us at lunch?” And I did, every school day from then on out, until high school graduation. In fact, they were both in my wedding when I got married to Mike. That’s how close we became. 

And that’s hospitality: making room for others at your table; befriending those who are friendless; noticing and being willing to see and love the stranger. 

Many of our confirmands today did not know each other before joining the class, and if they did, they didn’t know each other very well. Between the eight of them, they attend seven different schools! These young people, who started off as strangers, know each other so much better now; they might even call one another a friend. 

And that’s the process of confirmation; it’s not just about learning what we believe, it’s about building relationships and practicing hospitality. In fact, this place here, is a good, safe place to practice hospitality, to break bread with others, and to make new friends. 

Jesus most often practiced hospitality through food. He breaks bread, cooks fish, turns water into wine, multiplies the loaves and the fishes. 

And even in Emmaus, he stops and stays with these men, who think he’s a stranger, and when they invite him to stay, Jesus breaks bread with them, and that’s when they recognize him. 

Perhaps it’s because he was doing something so familiar to them, something they had seen him do again and again. And I love how when they extended hospitality to Jesus, they didn’t worry about tidying up or setting the perfect menu for this stranger. They just shared what they had and let Jesus share who he was with them. 

Theologian and professor Letty M. Russell says this: “Hospitality isn’t a sport or a competition. It’s an act of love, if you let it be. You can twist it and turn it into anything you want— a way to show off your house, a way to compete with your friends, a way to earn love and approval. Or you can decide that every time you open your door [or heart], it’s an act of love, not performance or competition or striving.”

Friends, let us open our doors, open our hearts, and break bread with one another for the sake of love. 

Next week, we will break bread together at the Lord’s Table just as these two travelers broke bread with Christ. And like those who were on the road to Emmaus, may we, this day and every day, recognize Jesus in the meals we share, the food we eat, and the people we encounter, unafraid to extend hospitality to those who are still strangers. 

May we see Christ present in one another and in the world. 

Amen.