Luke 24:13-32, The Walk to Emmaus
13 Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, 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, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. 18 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?” 19 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, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over 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 these things took place. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 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. 24 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.” 25 Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah[e] should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 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. 30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us[f] while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?”
Opening Prayer: Oh Lord, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, our rock, and our redeemer. Amen.
It’s the week after Easter, we’ve just retold the passion story: the glory of the Palm Sunday procession, the tension of the next three days knowing what’s to come, the heartbreak and betrayal of Maundy Thursday, the anguish of Good Friday, the loneliness and confusion of Holy Saturday, and finally joy comes in the morning with the amazing discovery of the empty tomb on Easter Sunday.
This drama has been reenacted hundreds of thousands of times around the world, part of the Greatest Story Ever Told, and we recount this every year as a remembrance to those miraculous events. It is indeed passionate. And we get to Easter Sunday and we proclaim, “Christ is Risen!” and then the response: “He is Risen indeed!” We can feel exhilaration in retelling this story because we already know the ending. It’s familiar, it’s comforting, it moves us to joy.
It wasn’t like that for Jesus’s original followers. On that first Easter Sunday, there was still confusion and shock. Jesus had taught and healed and stirred the crowds for three years. He was to be their redeemer, the One who would rescue them from Roman occupation at last. Liberation was within their grasp. Every time Jesus spoke, their hearts burned with passion and inspiration. And then, the crowd handed him over to their persecutors. This Teacher, this Savior, this Rescuer was publicly tortured and brutally murdered. And all of their hopes and dreams were murdered with him.
This morning’s passage from Luke picks up the story after that first Easter Sunday. As our passage this morning recounts, on that 7-mile walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus, the two men on the road were still numb from the events that had just unfolded. The two men on the road said to the stranger walking with them, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” They recount again the events that took place, still in shock and disbelief. And in response, the stranger drew the companions back to the scriptures.
And now, here we are, over 2000 years later, we also recount the events of those days. For us, since we already know the ending and have heard it so many times in our retellings, we are not in shock; we are filled with joy! We can focus on the ending – The Resurrection. With Easter Sunday comes the most glorious of Amens. We again watch to the end of the Greatest Story Ever Told. Then the service ends, the musicians play the final major chord, and the lights come up. It’s time to go home. We walk to the parking lot—(pause) or (pause) for right now, we push the “leave meeting” button. Now we realize we’re hungry for lunch. The dog has to be let out. There’s homework to be done. It’s back to “real” life. But as we return home, return to “real” life, are we not also on our road to Emmaus?
Why are we drawn again and again back to the story of the walk to Emmaus? Let’s look more closely at the scripture. These two men on the road were talking to each other about the unbelievable events of the past week. When Jesus joined them on the road, the text says, “their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” Maybe they were so distracted by current events they couldn’t really see Jesus. Maybe they were so wrapped up in disbelief that they couldn’t see. Maybe they were carrying so much pain and so much baggage that their eyes couldn’t focus on anything beyond their own assumptions.
We’ve been there. How many times have we said:
“Did you hear on the news what happened …?”
“I saw this post on Facebook that…”
“You won’t believe what they said when…”
We get caught up in this, especially when we are surrounded by incredible events, shocking events. These days it’s so easy to get caught up in the news, or in what people say, or what’s on Facebook. There is so much pain in the world right now.
In the text, those two men on the road to Emmaus were no strangers to pain. While they walked, that’s what they were focusing on, not the stranger who joined them on the road. It was their pain; their baggage; their assumptions. They were caught up in “real” life; blinded by “real” life. They were so focused on the painful events, that they weren’t focused what came after – the Resurrection. Their eyes might have been closed at that point, but notice on that walk, their ears were open. And then when the stranger walked with them, talked with them about the scriptures – step after step, for miles – their hearts were opened too.
Look again to the window of this church (pause).
This is the Walk to Emmaus. The expressions on the faces of the two companions at this point in their journey is not one of dejection or pain, but of stirring contemplation. They’re focusing now on their teacher, not the road…and not on their pain. After their teacher illuminates the scriptures for them, after immersing themselves in the words of the prophets, their hearts were burning within them once again.
When we gather, here in this church …after the last Amen, after Sarah’s final chord of the postlude fades, are our hearts also burning within us? The reality is that we are still walking on the road to Emmaus, on our journey. As blind as we can be sometimes, as distracted by “real” life as we can be, we do gather here together, with ears to hear. We are still eager for the scriptures to be opened to us. In reality, the word of God still carries us on our journey.
So yes, we retell the story of the passion of Christ every year, and after Easter Sunday, we again read about the walk to Emmaus. We know every word; we know how it ends—in the Resurrection. The timeless beauty of the scriptures is that they continue to center us. Our eyes…and our hearts…are in focus. When this happens, we realize that we are not separated from Christ’s story; it’s not something to retell as a narrator, or to watch in the audience, but rather something to live, to be steeped in. WE are in the story. God right now walks on the road with us. God right now is as close to us as our own breath. And if we are still, and we focus, we can hear God’s music within us echoed with our every heartbeat. When we gather, we can shut out the distractions around us, focus on God, and be swept away by the movement of the Spirit. Then, our eyes are opened, and we see and hear and feel the risen Christ among us, just like those travelers did on their walk to Emmaus.
The Story, our story, God’s story—it’s not over yet.
As we continue our journey together, as we walk with Jesus Christ, let our eyes and ears and hearts be opened. May it be so; Amen.