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An Embodied Doubt

  • One of the things we talked about last week as we explored doubt is that it is something common in our lives, and partially gained by experiences.
  • In fact, doubt is one of the things we need - an ability to recognize that inaccuracy is possible. We're starting to develop this skill by the age of three. It helps to understand what is true and what isn't.
  • We've also explored that sometimes, doubt as a metronome on our emotions and heart, allowing us not to be too persuaded one way or the other, can constrict us as well.
  • It seems this happened to our friends on the Emmaus road.
    • The phrase "their eyes were kept from recognizing him" is striking to our ears, and we're apt to ask the question "who?"
    • It's easy then to point to God and make the argument that this is a literary device to get to Jesus revealing himself. But up to this point in our Easter journey, there's been no indication of hiddenness - every time there's an opportunity for revelation, it's done.
    • Instead, I want to offer that it is their doubt that blinds them from seeing Jesus. And this is not some kind of judgement. Certainly, they have lots of good reasons to doubt what the promises were of Jesus.
    • Which then makes this story particularly tragic: it is a self-fulfilling, compounding process of doubt which only can spiral further.
    • They're aware of their spiral: the word to describe their feelings is unique to this passage and one other place in the gospels - it is the type of dismal countenance that Jesus suggests others do not do when they fast. Our companions here are dealing with a spiritual gauntness that has manifested into every part of themselves - this is an embodied doubt.
  • We all face this embodied doubt: the place where we are finally constricted by it. And often, this comes from the difficulties that we face in our walks - disappointment, failure, dashed expectations. And the higher the hope, the harder the fall can be. In this case, the people were hoping for no less than salvation. The question that our text asks us to wrestle with is how we manage to see the truth, even when we are encircled by doubt. And if we're honest, when it comes to Jesus, we often find ourselves with this same embodied doubt at times.
  • We often try to work our way out of this doubt through a variety of means, and our companions at Emmaus do as well.
    • Trying to intellectualize it: this can be the fundamentalists approach - that the way we are not doubtful is through knowledge and certainty. And had that been a successful approach, we would imagined that on the road as Jesus discussed with the companions, their eyes would have opened and they would have known and been satisfied.
    • Trying to hear it from others: we can do this as well, and it happens often. We look to others who seem to be doing better or have something we don't and we keep saying "well, if I just did this, it'd be enough." But that's not sufficient either - they had the stories of the women at the tomb.
    • Now, something happens when they're at table - Jesus provides for them, feeds them, and they're awakened.
    • But that didn't happen outside of context - it was the whole journey - and in particular their final hospitality - that led them to the point where they were at table. And, in fact, it was that moment after their eyes were opened, that they started to see what had happened... that their hearts, even in the midst of doubt, were burning within them.
    • That seems particularly striking - that in the midst of the doubt, they choose hospitality. Invitation into vulnerability and care for the other.
  • And so, friends, it seems the only way through embodied doubt is to go along the road, and work towards embodying the journey.
    • That yes, we rationalize, but are aware that knowledge alone will not free us
    • That it cannot be the tenuous hope of projecting others experiences onto our own
    • All of that must lead us to a place of openness, of hospitality, of grace.
    • And so, perhaps the way to no longer be encircled by doubt is to push through over time - to create a spiral upwards.
  • It reminds me a lot of when I was in graduate school at Ohio State. Every few months, I'd get worn down from school and work, and I'd start to feel sullen. I'd call home and ask my mom what I should do, and often she'd say to me "well, maybe you should go volunteer somewhere - an animal shelter or something."
    • I remember at times thinking that felt all a bit trite. My issue wasn't concern for others - my studies were directed that way - but how was going to be with some dogs going to help?
    • But in the end, it wasn't about the action, but the motion. It was allowing myself to get out of whatever encircling, embodied doubt I found myself in. It wasn't about satisfying or fulfilling some action, but instead allowing presence.
    • Do you know what I've found, when I have circling doubts about my vocation? When I wonder if I'm good enough, or having enough of an impact, or if the promise of what I thought about God in my life is enough? I go visit someone. I sit and listen to them tell their story. And, for fleeting, instantaneous moments, I can see Jesus again. And, perhaps, then, I can feel the burning heart that I couldn't have articulated before. That Jesus might have been there all along.