So you have something to hang your thoughts on: This little snippet from today's Gospel—with particular emphasis on the last few words:

When he was at 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. (Lk.24: 24:31)

The ten-chapter middle-section of Luke's Gospel is often called The Travel Narrative.

Luke's version of the Jesus story is structured so that many of his doings and teachings occur on one-and-only journey to Jerusalem. In these chapters, each new section begins with such phrases as "on the way," or "passing through."

It's not surprising, then, that in today's reading we find Jesus on the road again . . . this time walking alongside, and stopping by the home of, two men from the village of Emmaus.

The report of this post-resurrection appearance can be found only in Luke, and our Easter faith would be the poorer if we didn't have this little treasure.

It begins in the afternoon of Resurrection Day as a certain Cleopas and his nameless friend take the seven-mile hike back home from Jerusalem.

They are dejected—to say the least. They had been among the dozens who had followed Jesus' teachings-disciples, and they had staked all their hopes on his turning out to be the Messiah.

But, clearly this wasn't going to happen. Jesus had been crucified . . . perhaps, even, they had been in the crowd that watched the grisly event.

Dead and buried, and that was that.

Cleopas and his friend had been stranded in Jerusalem for nearly the whole weekend . . . The rules of Sabbath observance and the dangers of night-time travel had kept them in the city from late Friday afternoon until sometime Sunday morning, and so they had sought out the company of The Eleven—Jesus' inner circle, and were with them when the women came back with their astounding report. "The body is gone . . . not there in the tomb!"

An idle tale from women caught up in the hysteria of grief, thought the gathered men. So, an all-male delegation was sent to check out the story, and they had returned to report that the women were right!

Dead, buried—and now stolen away. It couldn't get any worse.

Small wonder that it was a dejected pair that Jesus caught-up with on the road to Emmaus.

You know well the rest of the story: A crash course on resurrection and messiahship in the Hebrew scriptures, the invitation to stay for supper . . . the breaking of bread, and how the men's understanding was opened to the revelation of a Jesus fully alive!

He walked, he talked, and he ate food! No apparition does such things . . .

And then he vanished!

In Luke's beautiful prose, the men's reaction is recorded differently; but I think that they must have turned to each other and said, "Whoa! What just happened here?"

Their only reasonable conclusion: "Jesus is risen indeed!"

But he has vanished . . . gone again . . . Almost in unison they asked each other: What do we do now?!

Then, despite the pair's fatigue, the late hour, and the perils of highwaymen on the road; they rushed back to the city . . . sought out the other disciples still gathered, and all together in a flurry of conversation they faced together the question of an alive-but-disappeared Jesus? . . .

What are we going to do with a Risen Christ!

What do we do with a Risen Christ? the age-old question that yet faces the church . . . confronts us, too, as individual Believers. He is not here . . . that is, we can't see him. Now what?!

It must have been in the early 'Seventies, because that's when it was a degree requirement for me to read books on higher education and counseling. There was one called The Indiana Plan of Adult Education. (It's about all I knew about Indiana at the time—except that Interstate 70 through Indiana is a very boring drive.)

A key premise of "The Indiana Plan," so the book said, was that virtually everything that is taught or learned has implications of a social or personal nature. The approach, then, when one learns something new is to ask, "So what?"

What does that mean for me or do to me? What are the implications for society, the culture, humankind?

If Columbus discovered America, as I was taught in school, So what?

How does that impact me? What might it mean for the people who were already living here when the presumed "discovery" took place?

And so, over the years, I have found myself asking the So what question a lot . . .

not in a rude or smart alecky way, but in a way that might illumine my mind, broaden my vision, change an attitude or, perhaps even, call forth some particular action.

This morning's Gospel invites us to put the So what question.

The disciples of Emmaus asked that question of one another: What do we do now?

Jesus has risen from the dead, So what?

Jesus has vanished from our sight, So what?

We know we have been in the Presence of the Risen Christ, So what?

Their first response was, "We've got to get back with The Eleven, and we've got to do it right now!"

Their first insight was, "We've got to involve ourselves with that little alternative community of Resurrection-Believers . . . We can't figure it out on our own . . . It's too important for that, too scary for that."

And so, back to Jerusalem they went . . .despite fatigue, the late hour, and perils along the way. Urgency and a need for community moved them with all possible haste.

The question now belongs to us. Christ is risen, but we cannot see him-so we confess and try beyond all reasonableness to believe, So what?

Are there implications here? Does this fact-of-faith have anything whatever to say about my relationship to, my involvements with, the society and the culture in which I am imbedded?

Does Jesus' resurrection and invisibility to human eyes call for some type of response from me? . . . Some change? Some action, perhaps?

Action? Yes . . . activity, at least: Prayer, Praise and Thanksgiving!

Loud prayer, praise and thanksgiving . . . our first response.

And, we have done that . . . are doing that! Four more weeks in the Sabbath of Sabbaths that is the Easter Season.

It all began with trumpets and tympani, and that's the way it should be.

But, to continue our Resurrection observance over weeks and years something more is required of us.

As the fortieth anniversary of Martin Luther King, Junior's martyrdom was observed this past week, the media re-played and reprinted a number of his key speeches and sermons. Today, many think of him only as a civil rights leader. He was that to be sure;

but also a saint . . . a talented saint with a tarnished halo—the kind that all saints have. His insight was deeper and even more developed than his skills at oratory

When violence erupted in the cities, he asked himself the question, "So what? What does this turn of events require of me as a Christian and a believer in resurrection?" His answer to his own question was to call for what he termed "a revolution of morality" . . . a movement that would rise up to do non-violent battle with racism, militarism, and economic exploitation of the world's poor.*

Is it possible, even thinkable, that the church's response—and our personal response—to the victorious Risen Christ might be equally revolutionary? —as peaceful as it is unexpected . . . as passionate as it is filled with possibility, as fruitful as it is costly?

Christ is risen, and he has vanished from sight. But his people who answer the so what question can strive to be his visible and lively apostles in a world that weeps and worries,

in a society where only the powerful can celebrate every day,

in a culture that values wealth over virtue.

Such revolutionary thinking and doing is a lot to ask.

God is not even requiring it of us!

But, Oh, what a sweet "Thank-you-Jesus" it would be if, by grace, we were to witness as loudly as we sing . . .

work for peace as tirelessly as we pursue our careers . . .

care for the hungry poor as lavishly as we nourish our own appetites for that which is not bread.

Early last week I received a note in the mail. That's not unusual; Nona and I have received a lot of notes over the past months . . . they have said thinks like, "Get well quick," and "I'm holding you in my prayers." We're grateful for those, and each one brought a smile to our faces.

But, this other piece that came in the mail, it was a thank you note . . . Not unusual, except that this one from a fellow named Dave was thanking me for something that, presumably, I had done thirty-six years ago!

Dave was a student at Ohio University back then, and I was his campus pastor. We hadn't been in touch since, and I remember barely more than his name and face. But, he wrote after all that time to say that he appreciated my ministry, and that what he had learned in our theology studies had been helpful. That brought a lift to my spirit and a smile to my face.

Dave has been a public school teacher through all those years.

He didn't have to write me . . . no one required that he respond; I would have kept on doing ministry anyway.

But, he did respond; and he made my day-yea, verily, my month!

The coming of God's kingdom did not rely on the response given by the men from Emmaus.

The salvation of our lives does not depend on the degree of our faithfulness . . . so gracious is our God.

But, Oh, what a sweet "Thank-you-Jesus" it would be if we would ask the so what question of ourselves a bit more frequently, wade into the Jesus revolution a bit more deeply,

and risk bumping into opposition a bit more bravely . . . for Jesus' sake. Amen.