I love Easter. It’s been my favorite holiday for as long as I can remember. I have fond memories of waking up early to watch the sunrise, discovering an Easter basket at my door, and searching for eggs around the house as a child. I was baptized by my dad on Easter. Easter is a day when I gladly wake up before the sun is out to help cook the Easter church breakfast and get ready for the sunrise service. I love the songs of Easter. It just doesn’t feel like Easter without singing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” and “Up from the grave he arose!” I love Easter. I love proclaiming the good news of the Risen Lord. Easter says that death is not the end of the story. That God’s love wins in the end. And that is great, wonderful news. 

But this year, more than ever, I am reminded that the resurrection story does not take away the pain and suffering in this world. Easter is here, yet almost three million people around the world have died from covid-19. Easter is here, but police brutality continues and mass shootings are on the rise once again. 

Easter is here, yet relationships remain broken and some people are no longer welcomed home by their families because of who they love or what they believe. Easter is here, yet mental illness and domestic violence have been named pandemics within the pandemic. Easter is here, but masks and social distancing remain. While the resurrection is good news, suffering and hardships continue to be present in the world. 

It continues to be a part of the “already but not yet” reality of the Christian faith. 

Jesus has already risen from the dead, but that does not yet extend to the rest of us. Love has already conquered death, but that does not yet erase suffering from the world. Jesus has said the kingdom of heaven is here, but it is not yet fully realized as injustice and oppression continue. Even though we are Easter people, resurrection people, we live in the tension of already but not yet and sometimes hope can be hard to find. 

In the story today, two of Jesus’ followers go on a walk and they do not know how to make sense of this already but not yet. They don’t understand why Jesus died or what to make of this empty tomb.

 In my readings this week, I learned that many scholars propose that it was actually a couple, a man and a woman, that were walking to Emmaus. And for the first time, I saw myself in this story. It was no longer Jesus talking to two men, Jesus could be having a conversation with me as I processed my feelings about death and life and navigated changing belief systems. And so, I would like to invite you to imagine that you are the unnamed person walking to Emmaus. 

You thought Jesus was the guy! He spoke with such authority, he healed so many people, surely he must be the one to save Israel. Yet, Jesus died, and now, three days later, his body is nowhere to be found and there are stories that he is alive, but you don’t know what to make of it. You are heartbroken and confused. 

Passover is done, and the teacher you had been following for months, maybe years, is gone, and so you leave Jerusalem and begin the journey home. And on that journey you talk and debate with your walking companion about what had happened and try to make sense of Jesus’ death and whatever happened this morning with the empty tomb. 

As you are talking and walking, a man approaches, starts walking alongside you, and asks what you are discussing. You stop walking. Your already sad body sinks deeper into despair. “How could this man not know what happened?” you think. “Everyone is talking about it! How could he be unaware of the events of the past three days? And how can you find the words to describe your sorrow and confusion to this oblivious stranger?” Thankfully, your walking companion, Cleopas, finds words and begins to speak, explaining to this stranger about this man named Jesus. 

When Cleopas finishes, this stranger actually seems to know what i