That same day two of them were going to a village called
Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about
everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with
each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were
kept from recognizing him.
He asked them, “What are you
discussing together so as you walk along?”
They stood still, their faces
downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, “Are you the only one visiting
Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?”
“What things?” he asked.
“About Jesus of Nazareth,” they
replied. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the
people. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be
sentenced to death, and they crucified him; but we had hoped that he was the
one who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since
all this took place. In addition, some of our women amazed us.
They went to the tomb early this morning but didn’t find his body. They came
and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, who said he was alive. Then
some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had
said, but they did not see Jesus.”
He said to them, “How foolish you
are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did
not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” And
beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said
in all the Scriptures concerning himself.
As they approached the village to
which they were going, Jesus continued as if he were going farther. But they
urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost
over.” So he went in to stay with them.
When he was at the table with them,
he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their
eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They
asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with
us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”
They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they
found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together and
saying, “It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon.” Then
the two told what had happened on the way, and how Jesus was recognized by them
when he broke the bread.
Many years ago, just after being
ordained, I had attended a workshop on church development by a rather
well-known church expert – and it seemed to me both the workshop and the
opening service were quite academic. I decided to plan a workshop of my own,
and ask a friend, Dr. Reginald Bibby, to be the main presenter. It was 1997,
and he was enjoying great success from a book he had just published called ‘There’s
Got to Be More’. I remember the evening following a rehearsal for the service –
we stopped at a local Tim Horton’s for a donut and coffee, and sat in the car
in the dark sharing food and reflection. As we broke one of the donuts in half –
something happened – there was a moment of knowing, of recognition, of somehow
knowing this person even though we had only met once before.
For me it was a moment of ‘remembering’
– of ‘recognition’. Of knowing. Recognition is a two-part word – ‘re’ and ‘cognition’
– the ‘knowing again’. Remember is also
a two-part word – ‘re’ and ‘member’ – to become again part of a whole, to
rejoin.
Two people are walking
disconsolately down a road, their footsteps slow and dragging, their voices
quiet, tearful, shocked, disbelieving. One of them is named Cleopas, and some
readings of the story have the other as his wife. Maybe they’re a bit older,
their children grown and gone; they have lived under Roman oppression and the
oppression of their own religious rulers for so long they were surprised by
Jesus’ message of love, inclusivity, and resistance. It called them to faith
without violence, a new way of being in a confusing world. And when he was
executed, the whole bottom fell out of their world.
And a stranger joins them and asks
what they are discussing so intently. And they are shocked that he doesn’t
appear to know, as if somehow, this is something everyone should know! Yet, as
they open themselves to him and tell their story, he then talks about their
scriptures – and somehow they are connected. They ask him to stay for the
night, as the roads are dangerous for single travellers alone and on foot. At
table he blesses bread and breaks it, and suddenly – they know! Their eyes are
opened, they can see!
Is this just a tale? Luke is clear
from the beginning of his Gospel that he is writing down oral stories, that he
himself did not experience any of these things – he is just reporting as
faithfully as possible. Is it real? A metaphor? Does it really matter????? What’s
really important in this story?
It says they were on the road to a
village called Emmaus – about seven miles from Jerusalem. Except there really
is no record of that. Oh, there are several villages called Emmaus – but all
too far away to be the Emmaus of the story.
So either this particular place has disappeared,
or the story really is metaphoric rather than literal. I’m leaning to the
metaphoric, to the meaning of what Emmaus and also Jerusalem really are in our
lives.
Jerusalem is the holy city where on
what we call Palm Sunday, Jesus and the followers come to celebrate the new
life through the Way of Jesus. They are members of something bigger than
themselves, and they come with some belief of the realm of God coming into
being through the message and through their living of the message. Jerusalem,
the Holy City, is also the place of our Good Friday, where Jesus dies on the
eve of the Sabbath. Jerusalem is the crux where the best and worst of the world
can be seen.
The road to Emmaus – maybe what they
see now as a road to nowhere, is a place disillusionment, of a more limited
view of what the realm is about and what their role is really. Emmaus coulbe
any small place down a country road anywhere. We assume, for story purpose,
that Emmaus is their home town, and they’re going back to see if there is
something they can pick up again. They will not forget Jesus and what they
learned, they will still try to put into practice the love and care for others
that he demonstrated. But somehow, in their own familiar little town, the message
of new life and hope on earth seems not quite so relevant.
Rev. Brian Donst, at Fifty United
Church in Winona, Ontario, says this: “Fortunately for them….. they are touched, they are
changed inside and in what they understand, before they make it all the way
home – all the way back from the holy city of Jerusalem to the unknown and
soon-to-disappear village of Emmaus.”
They are met by a stranger, who is
able to touch them in such a way that they share the deep and intense sense of
loss, disillusionment, personal pain. Instead of hiding their loss, they break
it open and lay it out for this stranger to see. Then they listen as he takes
what they share seriously enough to talk about the powerlessness of Jesus, what
the realm of God seems to suffer time after time in the world. And they
listen. What he says sounds true. It warms their hearts to see
they’re not alone in grief and suffering, but members of a much larger community
than they realised.
And even in the midst of this
reliving of pain and loss, they still remember the very basic rule of their spirituality
and faith - hospitality to the stranger. No matter who the stranger may be. They
sit down to eat, the stranger breaks the bread, and their eyes are opened to
who the stranger is, and who they still are and continue to be. And then he is
gone. And what do they do? They get up, and even though the roads are dangerous
and it’s late at night, they go right
straight back to Jerusalem, with the incredible message “We know, we have seen,
he lives – it wasn’t all in vain it wasn’t all useless after all.”
It is a story of recognised faith and remembered community,
even when we retreat to the smallness of Emmaus. It’s the story of our need for
help to turn our journey around, a need for community, and for a way which has value.
For Cleopas – and maybe we are the
other person – two things happen in this story. First, they recognise Jesus. In
the extending of unconditional hospitality to a complete and utter stranger,
they see the face of the one they loved so deeply. They know again who Jesus
is. And they remember – they are re-membered to the community of those who work
for the realm, who follow the Way of Jesus. They are re-connected to those who
hold peace, love, kindness, mercy, humility as core values. And they realise
that they aren’t alone, and there is still much to be done, and they are part
of it.
My colleague Rev. Dr. Christina Berry, at
First Presbyterian Church in Sterling,Illinois says this is one of the most
elegant stories – and under 500 words. A tale of two people, on the road to
nowhere, or so they believe; but they learn the way as they go.
The Way is a door we open by sharing
who we are with others, regardless of their faith. It’s a recognition that
comes in the breaking of bread – whether at a table for communion, or over a
pot of stew with immigrant families, or coffee with whoever comes in on
Thursday, morning, or sitting in a car breaking a donut in half and sharing. We encounter Jesus, and walk in his
way, every single time barriers are broken down and we are able to recognise
and remember.
It’s a way we make by walking together.
It’s a way we make by not walking away from trouble and distress, but by
walking right back into the struggle, back into the community which we thought
was lost – this time knowing it is not lost, but is there for us to build.
“All along that way our eyes are
opened,” says Christina “and when our eyes are opened we realize that our work
has new meaning, that Jesus is present even in our pain, that our relationships
can be transformed, that healing involves something more than a cure,
that God’s promises are
certain, and God’s love never fails.”
This story reinforces in the most
elegant way, that just as Cleopas and his companion realised they are “people
of the way”, we are also ‘people of the way’ – following in the way Jesus taught,
a way of unconditional love and compassion, and in that love and compassion a recognition
and remembering of who we are called to be. That to be ‘people of the way’
means anywhere and everywhere – in the Holy City, or on a dusty road to a town
that maybe isn’t real. It’s the Way, which takes us to the real heart of
everything which is important.
May it be so.
Sources:
1.
Rev. Brian Donst, Fifty United
Church, Winona, Ontario
2.
Rev. Christina Berry, First
Presbyterian Church, Sterling, Illinois.
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