Text: Luke 24:13-35 Revised Standard Version (RSV)
The Walk to Emmaus
13 That very day two of them were going to a village named Emma′us, about seven miles[a] from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing together, Jesus himself drew near and went with them. 16 But their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, “What is this conversation which you are holding with each other as you walk?” And they stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, named Cle′opas, answered him, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” 19 And he said to them, “What things?” And they said to him, “Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since this happened. 22 Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning 23 and did not find his body; and they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb, and found it just as the women had said; but him they did not see.” 25 And he said to them, “O foolish men, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! 26 Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” 27 And beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.
28 So they drew near to the village to which they were going. He appeared to be going further, 29 but they constrained him, saying, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed, and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 And their eyes were opened and they recognized him; and he vanished out of their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us[b] while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the scriptures?” 33 And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven gathered together and those who were with them, 34 who said, “The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread.
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
“How can we possibly go on?”
This was the rather plaintive question that Cleopas and his unnamed friend were no doubt asking as they trudged sadly and wearily toward home on that very first Easter Sunday. The future that had just a few days before seemed so bright is now just so much gray shadow; the color has gone out of their world. Their eyes are downcast, there are long pauses in the conversation, and lots of soul-searching. They definitely weren’t feeling any “Resurrection Joy.”
We can all easily imagine this scene, and we don’t need to guess what their emotions were, because each of us has been there, too. We have spent enough hours in our own lives on walks like that to be able to put ourselves squarely into the sandals of Cleopas. Sudden unexpected loss knocks us to the floor and leaves us gasping for breath. Sometimes things around us spin out of control and we can’t think of any way to keep our footing, much let set them right. Sometimes people we think we know turn out, when we least expect it, to be quite different, and we find ourselves looking at them as at total strangers. Unexpected tragedy falls on us like a rockslide, and the landscape of our lives is irrevocably changed. Every time something like this happens, we dazedly ask ourselves questions like, “how can I endure this? How can I possibly go on?”
We know very little about Cleopas and his companion, who never even is named; they appear only in Luke’s Gospel, and only in this passage. Yet we do know enough that we can conclude that they must have been pretty deeply involved with the Jesus Movement. They tell that interested “stranger” walking with them that they “had hoped” that Jesus would be The One, the real and bon fide Messiah, and they knew Mary and the other women who’d gone to the tomb early that morning – “Moreover, some women of our company amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning 23 and did not find his body; and they came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels, who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb, and found it just as the women had said; but him they did not see,” so they must have been a part of that “company” even though they weren’t among the core disciples.
To quote John Greenleaf Whittier: “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’”[1] Whittier could have had Cleopas and his friend in mind when he wrote those words, because the saddest words in today’s text are: “We had hoped…”
“We had hoped.” Perfect tense. Completed action. It’s over. We hope no longer. The cold realities of the world have killed hope and replaced it with nothing but yearning for what might have been. And we are left wondering how we are to go on.
But Jesus jolts them out of their melancholy. I love the way the Spark Story Bible puts it: “Stop being silly! How many times do you need to hear this? It was God’s plan for Jesus to die and become alive again to save the world!” Glen Scrivener writes: “Jesus repeatedly told them He’d be killed and then rise on the third day. And in verses 23 and 24 they admit that there are lots of eyewitnesses to the empty tomb and there have even been angelic messages telling them He’s risen.”[2]
It would be easy to just say that they should have known better. It would be even easier to just blow past this whole part of the story and concentrate on where they rejoice and ask each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us…?” But that would be wrong. Before the burning hearts of joy often come broken ones. To emphasize either one skews the picture.
Easter had passed them by because they weren’t paying attention. David Lose tells us, “The disciples are disappointed in part because they fundamentally misunderstood how God was working to save the world. Expecting a God of power, they got one of vulnerability. Expecting a warrior God, they got a suffering servant. And while it might be tempting to chide them for their lack of understanding, I think it’s important to recognize that pretty much everything they had experienced or been taught thus far made it impossible for them to imagine God’s work in Jesus. Seen this way, Jesus’ words about hearts as foolish as they are slow to understand are less rebuke, I think, than lament, grief at the pain they suffer.”[3]
It took the tragedy of loss to jolt them out of their assumptions and their complacency and make them ready to finally, at long last, truly hear what Jesus had to say.
But before he said anything, he listened.
There’s a lesson here for us. Cleopas, his friend, Thomas, and the other disciples missed hearing what Jesus had to tell them because they were too busy listening to the conversations going on in their own heads. So often, we, too, are so eager to help another person solve their problems that we don’t take enough time to listen and learn what the problem actually is. The best thing we can do is to follow the example Jesus sets – before we talk, or explain, or even invite, we simply listen. And, believe me, that can be the hardest thing of all to do.
Here is where I have to make a confession. When I think back on my early days in the ministry, the word that I use most often to describe myself is: Useless. I’m not just saying this. Back then, I had a head full of theology and I was so eager to get out there and “do good” and “do right while doing good” (the two are related, but not the same) that I didn’t do a very good job most of the time in listening. Valuable ministry still happened in those years, but it was often more in spite of me than because of me.
Happily, over the years, I found myself more and more able to sit back and listen more…and I discovered that sometimes, the best thing I could say was – nothing at all. Ministry happens in the holy silences as well as in the prayers and deep exchanges between souls.
Francis of Assisi once said, “Preach constantly. If necessary, use words.” More good is done by a listening ear than by a dictionary’s worth of words. Rather than tell someone “well, here’s your problem,” and then offer sage advice that goes far wide of the mark, let’s listen and let them tell us what it is that is pressing on their hearts.
First, Jesus listened and allowed Cleopas and his friend to get through the “white noise” in their heads. He allowed them to process their grief summed up in their phrase, “we had hoped.” Only then did he begin to interpret for them the meaning of it all, starting all the way back with Moses – and their hearts were inflamed.
Then, and only then, were they ready for the revelation that happened when Jesus broke that loaf of bread: “And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.”
The road to Emmaus is both a physical road but also a metaphor. We are all on a road, on a journey. And the great thing that this lesson shows us is that we aren’t on it alone. We’re making this journey together. We support each other. We build each other up.
We help each other go on.
And, best of all, Jesus is on that road with us, supplying the words we often lack, supplying the strength we need, giving us the grace to hear and to heal.
Something that is exciting to me is that this community of ours can be a place where others’ eyes are opened, and they recognize the Risen Christ! It does not require big numbers. All it requires is a big heart!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
[1] http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/2539-of-all-sad-words-of-tongue-or-pen-the-saddest
[2] Scrivener, Glen, “Luke 24:13-35,” https://docs.google.com/document/d/1R_gd88a-HnT-nke_D1ZMsH4iykXe_GJwEnQ-AfXc2s0/edit?pli=1, 2012
[3] Lose, David, “Easter 3A: Dashed Hopes and Surprising Grace,” “…in the Meantime,” http://www.davidlose.net/2017/04/easter-3-a-dashed-hopes-and-surprising-grace/