I read an article this past week in National Geographic about why 8 hours of sleep might not be enough anymore.  It turns out that thanks to our constant connectivity to both work and the news, we can close our laptops, put our phones away, and lay our bodies down to sleep but, for a variety of reasons, our brains are no longer getting the memo that we’re done for the day, we’re safe, and there is nothing left to do or worry about.

Instead, because our brains were designed to stay vigilant in the face of possible danger and engaged in the face of unmet demands, our cortisol levels are remaining elevated which is preventing us from falling into the deep reparative sleep we all need.

I really want you to hear this, because I can’t imagine a better way to describe this moment we are living in then one of possible danger and unmet demands. The barrage of information coming at us now is relentless, so our brains are remaining at attention, ready to react to whatever is coming next. And thanks to smart phones, email, and a world wide web - a whole economy that runs on our attention - there is always something coming next.

And that was true even before this administration took power; an administration which has been clear from the beginning that part of their strategy is to flood the zone with outrageous, inappropriate, and even illegal actions in an attempt to get away with as much as they can.

And my goodness would I love to tune them out and ignore them. Almost as much as I would love to keep their politics out of my church and my sermons. Unfortunately, they are the ones who keep dragging the church back into their politics to such an extent that something must be said.

We are living under the rule of a Defense Secretary who thinks we are in a Holy War with Iran in the name of Jesus. Either that or he’s auditioning for the re-make of Pulp Fiction. Honestly, no one really knows for sure.

We are living at the mercy a President who is swinging wildly between threats of genocide one day and portraying himself as Dr. Jesus Christ the next. A president who is still smarting about not getting the Nobel Peace Prize while insulting and threatening the Pope - the Pope! -who is out there advocating for (let me check my notes) ahh yes, peace.

And if anything happens to him we’re still saddled with a Vice president who has the gall to pile on and tell the Holy Father to stay out of politics while also admonishing him to be more careful when he talks about theology.

I keep thinking we’ve reached peak insanity, peak outrage, peak lack of separation between church and state…. peak something!….but it just doesn’t stop. John Stewart said on Monday that the presidency is supposed to age the president not the people, but that’s not how this is playing out… and friends, it’s exhausting. Can I get an amen?

And even though the Jesus we claim to believe in sounds nothing like the Jesus they are laying claim to, his likeness and our faith are being so thoroughly co-opted and corrupted by this administration that I wouldn’t blame you for being reticent to even identify yourself as a Christian right now. I would understand if you were feeling like this might be a good time to pack it in - kind of like Cleopas and his friend - and head home …at least until all of this blows over.

These two random disciples may well be the most relatable characters in all of the post resurrection stories right now. I mean why bother with this Jesus anymore if belief in him leads to whatever this nightmare is that we are living through?

I imagine they were as exhausted as we are. Probably even more so after the trauma of holy week. After all, they’d been all in for Jesus. He was, in the words of Cleopas: “a prophet mighty in word and deed.”

They’d heard Jesus teach. They’d seen him heal. They’d watched as he ran rings around the learned and confounded the powerful. These two disciples were so impressed, so enamored with this new rabbi, that they had even left their home in Emmaus behind to follow him.

Cleopas and his friend - who I’m going to assume was a woman since Luke doesn’t bother to name her - had thrown their lot in with the other disciples. They’d given up everything in an attempt to help Jesus establish a new kind of kingdom.

The one he talked about non-stop. A new world order where the powerful would be brought down and the lowly lifted up, the hungry would be fed and the prisoners set free. A world of peace and justice and prosperity for all…only to see all those hopes die on the cross.

Now, all they know for sure is that the Jesus they had placed their faith in is gone.

Rumor has it that his tomb is empty, but that could mean any number of things and a miraculous resurrection is pretty far down the list of options. Grave robbers, foul play, or maybe even a well meaning disciple absconding with the body to keep everyone else’s hopes alive, were far more likely scenarios than Jesus rising from the dead.

Because you see at this point, they’re 99% sure that Jesus, for all his wisdom and healing power was not the messiah and they’re crushed by that realization. Rule number one for being the messiah is that he would be the one to win, conquer, and take control. But their Jesus had lost. Their Jesus had died. Notice they’ve already dropped the title.

“We had hoped,” says Cleopas, “that he was the one to redeem Israel…” but he and his friend are walking home now because they realize that their hope was in vain. They were wrong. If Jesus was no match for the powers that be then what hope do they have? They’re out of options and out of energy. It is finished. They are done.

All of which they try to explain to the stranger they meet on the road, and friends, note if you will, that not even Jesus himself can shake them out of their despair. They are so overwhelmed with exhaustion, so blinded by their disappointment, that they don’t even recognize him.

Jesus attempts to reframe their experience in light of the scriptures. He tries to explain that this has all happened according to some cosmic plan, and that God can yet bring something good out of all this evil. Like some 1st century Amanda Gorman, Jesus is trying to explain that “there is always light if only we’re brave enough to see it, if only we’re brave enough to be it…” But they’re not having any of it. It’s just too soon.

These two are so traumatized that they need a minute. They can’t take in any new information, no matter how helpful or hopeful it might be. They can’t even fully process the interaction they’re having with this stranger enough to recognize that it’s Jesus.

And friends, I get that. When everything is spinning out of your control, when things are not going the way you’d hoped, when you are losing and losing hard and there is nothing you can do about it, you need time: time to react, to feel, to absorb the impact of all that has gone wrong. Time to dwell in that place of loss so you can rage and mourn.

Sometimes we can’t just buck up and be helped out of our sorrow, not by a well meaning friend, not even by God. Grieving takes time and energy. Outrage takes time and energy. Which is to say that you don’t have to feel any better about things right now than you actually do.

It’s ok to be heartbroken. It’s ok to be angry. It makes sense that you’re tired of living under this relentless barrage of cruelty and uncertainty, and if you need a nap this afternoon or every afternoon between now and 2028, you do what you need to do to survive this season.

It is okay and understandable if we find ourselves in the same sort of spiritual place as these two disciples right now. The good news in this story is that we can occupy that space without shame. Period. Full stop.

But, there’s some even better news in this story if we’re willing to hear it, and that is that we don’t need to stay in that place any longer than is truly necessary. We don’t have to stay locked in defense or give up in despair in the face of this administration or any other. If we do, our cortisol levels will never come down, and that’s not good for us or anyone else.

We can, even in the face of on going threat and defeat, still access some measure of peace - the peace of Christ which the world can neither give nor take away. We can still access love, hope, joy, and a renewed sense of energy by doing something akin to what they did when they finally arrived back home.

If you look back at the story you’ll see that they did something as simple as it was extraordinary. Even though they don’t know Jesus from Adam, they still turn to this well meaning stranger in their midst and invite him in to dinner. They offer to share in spite of all they have lost. They extend hospitality even though they are probably not in the mood at all. Jesus is hungry so they feed him. He is tired and thirsty so they offer him a place to rest and drink.

Cleopas and his friend - let’s call her … Shirley - may have given up faith in Jesus as their messiah but they have not given up faith in his vision of a more just and generous world.

They don’t know what is coming next.

They don’t know what the future holds.

They don’t even know what is true anymore.

But they still know what is right, and that’s where they focus their precious energy.

They use what little they still have left, not to rage against the machine, but to do the next right thing, which is simply to care for the person right in front of them.

And as Jesus sits down at their table, as he takes the bread, blesses it, and breaks it, all of a sudden they find that it is in living in the way of Jesus that we experience the reality of Jesus. He finally becomes known to them in the breaking of the very bread they were willing to share.

I think this is a vital word for us right. Cleopas and Shirley made a conscious decision to focus on what they could do to mend the world rather than stay focused on all that was rending it, and because of that they found new life even in the midst of death. They found hope even in the midst of their despair. And boy did they find some new energy!

Jesus disappears from their sight and they return to the disciples in Jerusalem “at once.” Backtracking seven miles through the dark like it’s nothing, they let the others know that Jesus is alive and if they want to see him he will be made know to them, just as he was to them, if they dare to keep living in the way he taught them to live.

Friends, I understand if this feels like a bad time to identify as a Christian. When you have this many people in power claiming to believe in him and doing this must damage in the name of that belief, it all starts to feel like too much. I meant it when I said that I would understand if this is all something you’d feel safer walking away from right now. It’s exhausting.

But then I remember the words of the late Rachel Held Evans who used to say, “Even on the days when I’m not sure I can believe it wholeheartedly, this is still the story I’m willing to be wrong about.”

And I’ve got to tell you, I’ve always felt the same. I do believe, but not simply because I think my belief will ensure that I win in the end or get to be with Jesus someday. If I die and get to be with Jesus in heaven, honestly that just feels like a bonus at this point.

I believe because even if it turns out that I’m wrong, that Jesus was no more than a nice guy, that there is no God, that none of this is true, I still know that this is a story, a faith, a religion that is shaping me for the better and helping me become the sort of person who can make the world a little better.

It obviously doesn’t do this for everybody. His name and story can still be taken up and twisted around for ill. But the way we tell the story here and the way we act in response, gives me something to live for rather than just fight against. And to me that is the beauty of being a Christian, because even if it turns out that we are wrong, that he didn’t rise, that all we have hoped about Jesus isn’t true, isn’t true at all…I’d still rather be a Christ-like person than the person I’d be otherwise.

I’d still rather be a person who brings a little more love and peace into the world, because that is something I can believe in no matter what and that is something I can rest in come what may. The love and peace that comes from living as he lived and giving as he gave. The love and peace Christ taught, the love and peace Christ modeled. The love and peace he offered them and the love and peace they offered in return.

May the love and peace of Christ be with you.

And in that love and peace, may we find some much needed rest. Amen.