Forty years ago, on April 4, 1968, a gunman shot and killed the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. During this last week, most of us have seen and heard various remembrances and tributes in honor of his life and ministry among us. One of those in particular struck a chord with me. Rev. Joseph Lowrey, a colleague of Dr. King, was asked if he has any concerns about the way Dr. King is remembered. He responded that he is concerned that we have a tendency to remember him as a glorified social worker. He went on to say that while social work is an important profession, we need to remember Dr. King’s true identity. We need to remember that Dr. King was a revolutionary—a non-violent revolutionary—and that the revolution he led has changed our world.
As I’ve reflected on Rev. Lowrey’s words, it’s seemed to me that we have a long tradition of conflict between personal identity and expectations. We have trouble recognizing what we don’t expect to see. When Dr. King stepped out to do something about the injustice of this world, he was told that was not his job. He was told to mind his own business, to stick to his preaching and teaching and keep quiet about the injustices that are the deepest shame of our nation. Then, when he spoke against the war in Viet Nam, he was told that was not his job. He was told—even by his own colleagues—that peace was not his issue—that he was called to help his people, not to challenge the political machinery behind the war.
Jesus had his own experience with conflict between his identity and others’ expectations. In today’s gospel portion—and in the gospels we’ve heard for the last two weeks—the people who were closest to Jesus didn’t expect to see him and couldn’t recognize him. On Easter morning, we heard the story of Mary Magdalene, who sees the risen Christ in the garden outside the empty tomb but doesn’t recognize him until he calls her by name. Last Sunday, we heard the story of Thomas, who can’t believe the man in front of him is Christ until he speaks with such kindness that Thomas knows he must be his Lord. Today we hear the story of the two disciples who meet Jesus on the road as they flee Jerusalem. They tell him the story of their grief but don’t recognize him until he breaks the bread and offers it to them. We see what we expect to see.
From the very beginning, everyone from his family to the religious leaders to his followers had their expectations about who Jesus was and what he was supposed to be doing. The religious leaders were convinced that his job as a good Jew was to uphold the Law and avoid any action that might draw the attention of the Roman authorities. His followers were convinced that his job was to overthrow the oppressive Roman occupation and bring Israel back to power again. His family was convinced that his job was to live his life in a way that would bring honor to them and keep him safe. Everyone knew what he was supposed to be doing. Everyone knew what they expected him to do.
They knew so well what they expected him to do that they couldn’t hear his words. They couldn’t hear him when he said he came that they might have life and might have it more abundantly. They couldn’t hear when he told them he had come to bring good news of God’s love—that he had come to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind and freedom for the oppressed. They couldn’t hear him when he said he had come to turn the world upside down, so that the last would be first and the least would be greatest. They couldn’t hear him, but he started a revolution that continues to change the world.
He started a revolution that continues to change the world, and we continue to live with our own expectations. We rely on his words—I will be with you always—but we sometimes forget that he is with us not only to comfort us but also to strengthen us for the work he has given us to do. We sometimes forget that the Jesus we follow is a revolutionary. The mercy and kindness he brings to all his encounters with us has been translated as “meek and mild”. His courageous obedience to his call and his refusal to respond to violence with violence has been translated as “passivity”. His commandment to love one another has been translated from a call to action in God’s name to a leaning toward sentimental emotion.
Jesus is a revolutionary—a non-violent revolutionary—a revolutionary committed to changing the world order to reflect God’s peace and justice. And we are his followers—and therefore called to be revolutionaries ourselves. If you have any doubt about that, look more carefully at the words of our Baptismal Covenant. These are not the promises of a people who want to maintain the status quo. These are the promises of a people who know there is a better way and are committed to being transformed and to helping transform the world.
This morning we are baptizing Kylie Alysse Gaborsky, and we’ll be making the promises of our Baptismal Covenant in her name. People who look at this precious nine month old probably don’t see her as a revolutionary, and I’m pretty sure that her parents have something very different in mind as they bring her to be baptized. They bring her to us for baptism this morning to claim her share in the blessing of Christ. They bring her at such a tender age so that she will grow up knowing God’s love for her and knowing that she is a child of God and a member of God’s family. They bring her so that she will be part of the Body of Christ, knowing that we in this community will support her in her life in Christ and support them as they continue their journey as parents. And they bring her so that she can be part of making this world a better place for all God’s children.
Transforming the world sounds like a pretty big job for a nine month old. Opening our hearts to transformation and setting out on the road to transform the work is a pretty big job for anyone of any age. The road is not always easy for revolutionaries, and the road ahead is not always clear. Sometimes it’s hard to see the next step, and fear sometimes obscures our vision, just as it did for the disciples on the road to Emmaus that Easter evening so long ago. But we can trust in one thing as we move forward. No matter what happens, we will never be alone. God’s grace in Jesus Christ and in the power of the Holy Spirit is always with us, and we will never be alone.
Thanks be to God.