Sunday Sermon Manuscript for April 19

The Road to Emmaus

Luke 24:13-35

The Avignon Captivity

1. If you've been following the news closely lately, you may have heard about the "Avignon Captivity." Tension between the United States government and the Vatican has been ongoing ever since Pope Leo XIV — a Chicago native — sharply criticized President Trump's remarks during the Iran conflict, in which Trump suggested he would "wipe out entire civilizations." The Pope declared this absolutely unacceptable.

2. Trump criticized the Pope, and the Pope used his Easter message to make a forceful statement against war. That much is familiar to most of us. But reports then emerged that a U.S. Assistant Secretary of Defense summoned the Vatican's ambassador to the United States to the Pentagon and told him that "America has the military power to do whatever it wants in the world, and the Catholic Church should take America's side." This revelation showed the conflict was far more serious than initially apparent. And it was in this context that the term "Avignon Captivity" was invoked.

3. The Avignon Captivity was an event that arose in the early 14th century from intense conflict between King Philip IV of France and Pope Boniface VIII. The central dispute was whether the king had the right to tax the clergy. The Pope issued a papal bull declaring that papal authority was superior to secular power — and Philip IV responded by having the Pope arrested and imprisoned.

4. The shock of his arrest led to the Pope's death not long after. Under Philip IV's influence, a French cardinal was elected as the new pope, and the papal seat was relocated from Rome to Avignon in France. The official reason given was political unrest in Rome, but the fact that all seven popes who served during the following 70 years were French makes it clear that the papacy had been effectively taken captive by the power of the French king — much like the Babylonian Captivity of old. And so this period came to be called the "Avignon Captivity."

5. The papacy eventually returned to Rome, but its prestige had already declined. The internal conflicts of the Church led to the bizarre situation of two or even three rival popes existing simultaneously. This chaos became one of the key catalysts for the Protestant Reformation.

The Humiliation of Canossa

6. Was the Avignon Captivity the only such episode? Most of us are familiar with the Humiliation of Canossa, which preceded it — occurring in 1077. The conflict at that time was over who held the authority to appoint bishops and abbots: the king or the pope. The conflict reached its climax when the Holy Roman Emperor faced excommunication, and he was forced to stand barefoot in the snow outside the castle of Canossa for three days, begging the pope for forgiveness. This is what we call the "Humiliation of Canossa."

7. Throughout history, the power of the Church and the power of the state have clashed for one reason or another. In modernity and the contemporary era — beyond the Reformation — the principle of the separation of church and state has been established, recognizing that ecclesiastical authority can no longer be intertwined with political authority. This achievement can be seen as a mark of maturity. And yet, seeing this old conflict between church and state re-emerge in the 21st century gave me much to think about.

8. One more thing worth mentioning: I recently read an article in which Vice President Vance criticized the Pope and said that "in some cases it's best for the Vatican to focus solely on moral issues," told the Pope to "let the American president determine American public policy," and warned the Pope to "be careful when speaking about theological matters."

9. Until now, I have tried my best to avoid talking about politics. I told myself I might be misunderstood even if I said something reasonable, and so I tried to play the role of a neutral third party — a bystander. And I think I also tried to remain indifferent, telling myself: What difference would it make if I said something anyway? But when I heard Vance's remarks, I had a sudden, sobering thought: Have I been too cowardly? That question broke through my silence. I felt I needed to step out of that silence and begin doing what I should — speaking publicly, and correcting what is theologically wrong.

10. On another level, a question arose in my heart: if the only way we feel the pain and destruction of war is through rising prices and fuel costs, can we truly call ourselves disciples of Jesus Christ? And pressing one step further: what kind of Jesus do we actually confess? What is the Jesus we believe in?

11. From what I understand, Vice President Vance is a Catholic. And yet, a Catholic telling the Pope to "be careful when speaking about theological matters" suggests that the power these men enjoy must never be even slightly challenged by religious conviction or by the theological light God is shining into our world today. It is as though any such challenge is simply not permitted.

12. What troubles me deeply is the way this has been framed as a theological matter — because the very use of the word "theological" by Vance reveals an arrogance: the assumption that he can authoritatively speak on a field that is not his own. I am not seizing on a single slip of the tongue.

13. Some time ago, Vice President Vance, in explaining Augustine's concept of Ordo Amoris — the "order of love" — said it means "you should love your family first, then your neighbors, your community, and your fellow citizens, and only after that prioritize the rest of the world." He used this to justify the Trump administration's hardline immigration policies. That is when I first became convinced that this man's statements are more dangerous than they might appear.

14. What Augustine actually taught about the Ordo Amoris is this: love God above all else, then love your neighbor, then love yourself, and finally love all the creatures of this world. This teaching is grounded in Matthew 22:37–39, where Jesus says: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself."

15. If someone hears what Vance said without knowing the actual content of Augustine's thought, they might genuinely come to believe that this is what God has said — that this is what the Bible teaches. And if that distorted understanding spreads through the public, leading people to think that this is what Christianity is, it is no different from the heresies we so vigilantly guard against. That realization convinced me that I could no longer remain silent — that I needed to speak up and set the record straight.

The Road to Emmaus

16. Having passed through Easter, we are now in the Easter season. The passage we read today — the story of two disciples on the road to Emmaus, one named Cleopas and the other unnamed, walking alongside the risen Jesus — contains a mysterious biblical message that I believe is exactly what is needed to break my silence. It is a text that our church community needs to wrestle with together.

17. We are familiar with this passage. It is read every Easter season: the disciples see the risen Jesus with their own eyes, yet their eyes are kept from recognizing him, until the moment they break bread together — and suddenly they know. They rush back to Jerusalem. It is one of the most theologically significant texts connecting resurrection and communion.

18. That is the story as we generally know it. But when we look more closely at the text, we discover something remarkable in what these two disciples actually do.

19. Cleopas is one among the many disciples, and he appears only in this passage. The two companions were from Emmaus — they had followed Jesus to Jerusalem, and after the crucifixion, they were heading home.

20. Verse 14 tells us that these two disciples were talking with each other about "everything that had happened." In the midst of this, the risen Jesus naturally joins them on the road. In verse 17, Jesus asks: "What are you discussing together as you walk?" Cleopas, puzzled that this stranger apparently knows nothing about what happened in Jerusalem, begins from the beginning — recounting everything they had heard and witnessed.

21. If you compare the disciples we read about last week — those who encountered the risen Jesus after the crucifixion — with these two on the road to Emmaus, you will notice a striking difference.

22. Last week's disciples encountered the risen Jesus in the midst of tremendous fear and confusion. But the two disciples in Luke's account today are doing something entirely different: they are openly telling a complete stranger that they are followers of Jesus, and that what happened to him was a grave injustice. There is no fear in them at all.

23. In verse 19, they boldly confess that Jesus was "a prophet, powerful in word and deed." Given that Jesus had been crucified by Rome, this was a remarkably courageous confession. Under Roman authority, anyone executed by crucifixion was branded a criminal and an enemy of the state — everything about such a person was supposed to be negated and erased.

24. And yet, telling a stranger that Jesus was "a prophet, powerful in word and deed" was an outright refusal to go along with Rome's verdict. It was a defiant confession. And in verse 21, these two disciples go even further — crossing a clear line: "We had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel."

25. This is not merely the heartfelt expression of devotees who loved their teacher. To say such things to a stranger was to potentially hand their own lives over to an enemy. And yet these two disciples make this confession without hesitation, without fear.

26. The text goes on to tell us that they had already heard the women's report about the angels who announced the resurrection, and that some of the disciples had gone to the tomb and found it empty.

27. What follows is a scene where Jesus, still unrecognized, rebukes these two disciples somewhat sternly. But what I want to draw your attention to today is this: these two disciples were not afraid. Yes, they may have been disappointed — returning home with a sense that the one in whom they had placed their hope was now absent. And yet in the midst of that, they confessed clearly who Jesus was, what hope had led them to follow him, and they were faithful in that confession.

28. The same events produced very different responses among different disciples. And the text shows us that Jesus responded to each of them accordingly.

The Challenge Before Us

29. The greatest challenge I face right now is this: how do we respond when living, breathing political power presumes to scold and correct the very domain and expertise of the Church? Or rather — it's not even about how to respond. The deeper question is: how do we help those who are full of such error and arrogance to understand the true gospel of Jesus Christ and the movement of God's Kingdom?

30. In the midst of that question, the story of these two disciples on the road to Emmaus speaks clearly. Not with a sharp rebuke, not with dismissal, not with indifference — but with a clear, unashamed confession of who Jesus Christ is, grounded in genuine theological understanding, expressed through lives lived accordingly. The willingness to confess Jesus as Lord without hesitation, even when that confession could cost them their lives — this, I believe, is the faithful witness the Church is called to embody today.

31. Fear did not stop these two disciples from confessing. Without hesitation, they declared: Jesus is the Savior. He was our hope. He was a true prophet. And those who handed him over to be crucified — they named that too, plainly and without hiding it.

32. This is not a story about courage. It is a story about what you believe and how you live. We tend to treat the resurrection of Jesus as a seasonal holiday we observe in spring. But to confess the risen Christ is a barometer — it reveals what we truly confess, and the direction in which we are truly living.

Confession and Conviction

33. The cowardice I confessed at the beginning of this sermon comes from fear. Fear of how people will judge me if I say these things. Fear of causing unnecessary trouble. Fear that if I speak up, those who support the Republican Party will assume their pastor is a Democrat. (I've always said — I am neutral.)

34. We all know how much energy we pour into talking about the political parties we support. But since we've come this far, let me keep going: Donald Trump became president as the Republican Party's candidate — not because of his personal popularity alone.

35. Not long ago, Trump posted an image of himself depicted as Jesus on social media, only to hurriedly take it down. To me, that moment confirmed beyond any doubt that this man has no real understanding of what Christianity is, what it means to believe in Jesus, or what it means to be a Christian. This is not a critique of the Republican Party. This is an assessment of Donald Trump as an individual.

36. And yet the United States of America is a country built on Christian principles and ethics — a country that brought forth the universal ethics and democratic ideals that represent the finest achievements of human civilization. It was built on a Christian spirit that sought to put into actual practice both the love of God and the love of neighbor.

37. That influence has not been limited to America alone. It has shaped the entire world. What I remember is how American churchgoers raised funds and poured support into Korea and the Korean church — a contribution that became vital nourishment for the building of the Republic of Korea as it stands today.

38. I remember when American pop artists came together to sing "We Are the World" — and how the whole world mobilized to fight famine in Africa. At the heart of that was a traditional, universal Christian spirit — expressed through dignified leadership and moral consciousness that the Republican Party, at its best, once embodied. That is my brief understanding of what the Republican Party has represented.

39. So why, then, are we watching helplessly as the trust and fruit that America has built over so many years is dismantled piece by piece — through behavior that is loud, graceless, and immature? Why do we simply stand by?

40. It is because of what I confessed: cowardice. Fear. We live in a world where we calculate the atmosphere before deciding whether to confess Jesus. We live in an age where we sometimes judge it more advantageous not to mention that we go to church.

41. The essential energy of the Church has grown dim, and people expend their strength on things that don't matter. The atmosphere is such that pastors are pressured to preach in ways that comfortably align with the preferences of their congregations, rather than delivering the sharp, prophetic proclamation that the gospel demands.

42. As I prepared this sermon and looked back over my own recent preaching, I had to admit: I haven't been much different. I've grown accustomed to seeking the approval of people. I've been missing what matters most — and what I've been missing is this: I am supposed to live in this world as one who stands before God. Instead, I've been pressing my life up against the world's applause.

Conclusion

43. The two disciples on the road to Emmaus — you can feel their discouragement. And yet, in the presence of a stranger who could have turned them in and cost them their lives, they declared without hesitation: Jesus is powerful in word and deed! He is the one who will redeem Israel! We placed our hope in him!

44. The passage that follows reads, on the surface, as though Jesus is rebuking these two disciples. But the more I read and re-read this text, the more I feel that the story of the two disciples and the words of Jesus are directed not just at them — but at us, the readers, today. You say Jesus is powerful in word and deed — do you, sitting here, really believe that? You say Jesus is the Savior — do you truly believe that? Is your hope really in him?

45. As the Iran conflict loomed, I saw images of well-known, respected Christian leaders in America going to the White House, gathering around President Trump, and praying over him. What I had hoped to see was at least one of them — with prophetic sharpness — asking whether this war was truly what God desired. And then I caught myself: If that were you, what would you have done? Would you really have done what you hoped someone else would do? Honestly — I probably would have laughed along, enjoyed the meal, taken the photo, and boasted about it afterward.

46. Dear beloved congregation: to believe in Jesus is not to possess some special credential or status. It is to live in this world as one who is always standing before God. And it is to believe — just as the risen Jesus walked alongside those two disciples on the road to Emmaus — that he walks alongside us still, every day, in this world. Hold onto that. And step forward into this world with a little more courage.