The Road to Emmaus is one of the most familiar stories of the Easter cycle, but perhaps we have over–sentimentalised it. Could it be that these disciples were fleeing for their lives and wondering what they would would amount to now in the aftermath of their foolish choice to follow the now dead preacher? So what would they have made initially of the stranger’s comment, “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things?”
Luke 24:13–25
The Walk to Emmaus
Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognising him. And he said to them, ‘What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?’ They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, ‘Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?’ He asked them, ‘What things?’ They replied, ‘The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.’ Then he said to them, ‘Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognised him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’ That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, ‘The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!’ Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
I sometimes wonder have we over–sentimentalised this story from the Gospels. We imagine it as a stroll back home after the slightly disappointing or underwhelming events associated with the end of their hopes and dreams of the Messiah. And even though it comes in the aftermath of the glorious resurrection they seem to be distrustful of the women’s account of what happened—after all, the men went and they saw nothing! So they decide to go back home, for the fields and flocks aren’t going to tend themselves are they?
So, whilst casually returning home, a mysterious character draws alongside them, (or was Jesus wearing a disguise?) and listens in to their conversation, before calling them ‘a bit stupid.’ This strange and insulting character is obviously a bit of a preacher who knows his bible and he explains everything to them with great clarity, though still they fail to recognise him. Finally, an exasperated Jesus commandeers their dinner, plays out a repeat of the Last Supper, and BINGO! the penny finally drops, necessitating return to Jerusalem to tell their friends what they had seen.
Too simplistic perhaps?
But consider the circumstances. Less than 48 hours earlier, the occupying forces of Rome had forcibly seized their friend, tortured and executed him. His close following of men and women had scattered, some back to the room they had borrowed where they locked and barred the doors and windows, fully expecting they would be next. These two had managed to escape the city and were now fleeing back to familiar territory. To do what? Could they really go back to normal and do what they had been doing before they left all to identify with this dead man? Or would they be hastily packing up their belongings to flee further away, perhaps to become refugees for a period until things settled a bit?
Or is there something even more intriguing? There are no other mentions of Emmaus in the Scriptures and there are four different sites traditionally argued for as the location of the town. Josephus mentions Emmaus once, telling us that several decades previously Emperor Vespasian had garrisoned eight hundred Roman soldiers there. It was an act designed to ensure no repeat of the Judean revolt in 70 AD. The Book of Maccabees describes Emmaus as a site where a hugely outnumbered Jewish guerrilla force had heroically defeated Syrian invaders.
So maybe Emmaus had a reputation for resistance. Were these disciples rushing to the town, glancing this way and that to see if they were being followed, because they knew they would find cover there, to lay low for a while? To nurse their psychological wounds? To curse the fact they had been stupid enough to follow that preacher in the first place? To profess continued defiance against the invader? To embed themselves in more traditional forms of revolution?
Commentators point to the fact that the Greek phrases used to describe their talking and discussion refer to serious, weighty matters, even passionate dispute. And they are used elsewhere in the context of suffering. So is it the heat and intensity of their argument that prevents them recognising the stranger when he arrives? Or, as Daniel Berrigan pointedly suggests, was it because Jesus was so beaten up and disfigured by his torturers the reason they failed to recognise him? Whatever the reason, their terse response to Jesus suggests they’re more preoccupied with their argument than with entertaining the newcomer.
Cleopas’s response seems to dispense with any caution and he just lays it all out there. He talks about the revival of the prophetic tradition, the betrayal and collaboration of religious leaders, the violence of the occupiers, and his own sense of crushing disappointment and betrayal. And to cap it all, the gossiping rumours of women were rubbing salt in the wounds.
I wonder was this something like what the confidants of Martin Luther King Jr felt after his assassination fifty years ago this month?
Jesus walks with them in their pain, patiently listening to their confusion and their fear and, as Ched Myers points out, ‘he responds with, of all things, a Bible study…“OK, fellas,” Jesus says, “it’s a bad time, alright. So open your Bibles to the prophets and let’s reread history together under the Shadow of Death.”
We lack the courage, says Myers, to realise that the way to liberate a world locked up in the spiral of violence is through nonviolent, sacrificial, creative love, and so we baulk at the stranger’s punchline, “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer?” Then, through the witness of Moses and the Prophets, he provides them with the interpretive key to their tradition.
After the breaking of bread the text records that their eyes were opened. The word used is the same one used elsewhere to describe the opening of deaf ears (Mark 7:34–35) and a closed womb (Luke 2:23), blind eyes (Luke 24:31) and even a hardened heart (Acts 16:14). Myers points out that “our perspective on traumatic historic events is not ultimately a matter of rational persuasion but of opening blind eyes and deaf ears and hard hearts to the difficult truth of discipleship under the Shadow of Death. And when our hearts are truly opened, they will burn with renewed commitment.”
(see Ched Myers, “Easter Faith and Empire: Recovering the Prophetic Tradition on the Emmaus Road” in Getting on Message: Challenging the Christian Right from the Heart of the Gospel, ed. Peter Laarman.)
Spend some time in quiet reflection and prayer, remembering the things which cause your heart to burn within you. Maybe it has been some time since that was the case, since you were prepared to get on the road at inhospitable times of the day or night. What are the injustices that stir you today? In what ways do you need to get back on the road? What elements of the Tradition do you need to return to and what story do you have to tell?
God of the Emmaus Road
Stir my heart today
with the burning heat of justice
Strengthen my legs
to stand with those who are oppressed.
Strengthen my arms
to uphold those who are weak.
Strengthen my resolve
to meet fear and discomfort
with equanimity.
That I too may say
with the disciples of Emmaus
“The Lord has Risen indeed.”
Amen
The Road to Emmaus is one of the most familiar stories of the Easter cycle, but perhaps we have over–sentimentalised it. Could it be that these disciples were fleeing for their lives and wondering what they would would amount to now in the aftermath of their foolish choice to follow the now dead preacher? So what would they have made initially of the stranger’s comment, “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things?”
Luke 24:13–25
The Walk to Emmaus
Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognising him. And he said to them, ‘What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?’ They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, ‘Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?’ He asked them, ‘What things?’ They replied, ‘The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.’ Then he said to them, ‘Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognised him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’ That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, ‘The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!’ Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
I sometimes wonder have we over–sentimentalised this story from the Gospels. We imagine it as a stroll back home after the slightly disappointing or underwhelming events associated with the end of their hopes and dreams of the Messiah. And even though it comes in the aftermath of the glorious resurrection they seem to be distrustful of the women’s account of what happened—after all, the men went and they saw nothing! So they decide to go back home, for the fields and flocks aren’t going to tend themselves are they?
So, whilst casually returning home, a mysterious character draws alongside them, (or was Jesus wearing a disguise?) and listens in to their conversation, before calling them ‘a bit stupid.’ This strange and insulting character is obviously a bit of a preacher who knows his bible and he explains everything to them with great clarity, though still they fail to recognise him. Finally, an exasperated Jesus commandeers their dinner, plays out a repeat of the Last Supper, and BINGO! the penny finally drops, necessitating return to Jerusalem to tell their friends what they had seen.
Too simplistic perhaps?
But consider the circumstances. Less than 48 hours earlier, the occupying forces of Rome had forcibly seized their friend, tortured and executed him. His close following of men and women had scattered, some back to the room they had borrowed where they locked and barred the doors and windows, fully expecting they would be next. These two had managed to escape the city and were now fleeing back to familiar territory. To do what? Could they really go back to normal and do what they had been doing before they left all to identify with this dead man? Or would they be hastily packing up their belongings to flee further away, perhaps to become refugees for a period until things settled a bit?
Or is there something even more intriguing? There are no other mentions of Emmaus in the Scriptures and there are four different sites traditionally argued for as the location of the town. Josephus mentions Emmaus once, telling us that several decades previously Emperor Vespasian had garrisoned eight hundred Roman soldiers there. It was an act designed to ensure no repeat of the Judean revolt in 70 AD. The Book of Maccabees describes Emmaus as a site where a hugely outnumbered Jewish guerrilla force had heroically defeated Syrian invaders.
So maybe Emmaus had a reputation for resistance. Were these disciples rushing to the town, glancing this way and that to see if they were being followed, because they knew they would find cover there, to lay low for a while? To nurse their psychological wounds? To curse the fact they had been stupid enough to follow that preacher in the first place? To profess continued defiance against the invader? To embed themselves in more traditional forms of revolution?
Commentators point to the fact that the Greek phrases used to describe their talking and discussion refer to serious, weighty matters, even passionate dispute. And they are used elsewhere in the context of suffering. So is it the heat and intensity of their argument that prevents them recognising the stranger when he arrives? Or, as Daniel Berrigan pointedly suggests, was it because Jesus was so beaten up and disfigured by his torturers the reason they failed to recognise him? Whatever the reason, their terse response to Jesus suggests they’re more preoccupied with their argument than with entertaining the newcomer.
Cleopas’s response seems to dispense with any caution and he just lays it all out there. He talks about the revival of the prophetic tradition, the betrayal and collaboration of religious leaders, the violence of the occupiers, and his own sense of crushing disappointment and betrayal. And to cap it all, the gossiping rumours of women were rubbing salt in the wounds.
I wonder was this something like what the confidants of Martin Luther King Jr felt after his assassination fifty years ago this month?
Jesus walks with them in their pain, patiently listening to their confusion and their fear and, as Ched Myers points out, ‘he responds with, of all things, a Bible study…“OK, fellas,” Jesus says, “it’s a bad time, alright. So open your Bibles to the prophets and let’s reread history together under the Shadow of Death.”
We lack the courage, says Myers, to realise that the way to liberate a world locked up in the spiral of violence is through nonviolent, sacrificial, creative love, and so we baulk at the stranger’s punchline, “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer?” Then, through the witness of Moses and the Prophets, he provides them with the interpretive key to their tradition.
After the breaking of bread the text records that their eyes were opened. The word used is the same one used elsewhere to describe the opening of deaf ears (Mark 7:34–35) and a closed womb (Luke 2:23), blind eyes (Luke 24:31) and even a hardened heart (Acts 16:14). Myers points out that “our perspective on traumatic historic events is not ultimately a matter of rational persuasion but of opening blind eyes and deaf ears and hard hearts to the difficult truth of discipleship under the Shadow of Death. And when our hearts are truly opened, they will burn with renewed commitment.”
(see Ched Myers, “Easter Faith and Empire: Recovering the Prophetic Tradition on the Emmaus Road” in Getting on Message: Challenging the Christian Right from the Heart of the Gospel, ed. Peter Laarman.)
Spend some time in quiet reflection and prayer, remembering the things which cause your heart to burn within you. Maybe it has been some time since that was the case, since you were prepared to get on the road at inhospitable times of the day or night. What are the injustices that stir you today? In what ways do you need to get back on the road? What elements of the Tradition do you need to return to and what story do you have to tell?
God of the Emmaus Road
Stir my heart today
with the burning heat of justice
Strengthen my legs
to stand with those who are oppressed.
Strengthen my arms
to uphold those who are weak.
Strengthen my resolve
to meet fear and discomfort
with equanimity.
That I too may say
with the disciples of Emmaus
“The Lord has Risen indeed.”
Amen