One of the most striking phrases in the gospel story of the Road to Emmaus, which you just heard, is this: “They stood still, looking sad.” Let that sink in for a moment.
The two on the road were talking and discussing all the things that had transpired leading to Jesus’ death. And then there was the confusion about the disappearance of Jesus’ body from the tomb, and the wild rumor that he was somehow alive. At this point for them, it was pretty much all bad news and mere speculation that would more likely than not lead to dashed hopes. Thus, they stood still, looking sad.
That’s a powerful image. Sadness can indeed stop us in our tracks, immobilize us. We stand still looking sad when we are in acute grief at the loss of loved ones. Many of us stand still, looking sad at what has become of our country. Some stand still, looking sad, about the shrinking size of our congregations and that many churches are closing each year. You have your own reasons and circumstances which cause you to stand still looking sad. Maybe you’re feeling some of this right now.
Here’s another powerful moment in today’s gospel reading: “But we had hoped that [Jesus] was the one to redeem Israel.” But we had hoped….. We can fill in the blanks there, too. But we had hoped that technological advances would actually lead to truly better quality of life and greater prosperity for all. But we had hoped that our older, golden years would have been healthier and filled with more vitality and fun. We had hoped that our church would gain more younger members. Again, you have your own reasons for when you are moved to say, “but I had hoped….”
It’s into this sadness and sense of dashed hopes that Jesus appears to the two on the road, though in their grief, they did not recognize Jesus. Their grief and hopelessness were too blinding, inhibiting their capacities to see that Jesus himself was with them.
That’s when Jesus lovingly, compassionately admonished them – that’s how I hear the words, at any rate – “Oh, how foolish you are and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!” Then Jesus “interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures,” how it was “necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory.” (cf. Luke 24:26-27)
Jesus likewise meets us in our sad, hopeless paralysis with the same gentle admonition, “Oh, how foolish you are….” Again, I don’t hear Jesus’ words as condemning or belittling us. Rather, I hear his gentleness and love, yes, acknowledging our shortcomings, but nudging us along into deeper truths.
Still all of this wasn’t enough to get the two disciples unstuck. It took the encounter over a meal at eventide to make the difference. “When [Jesus] 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 recognized him, and he vanished from their sight.”
He took bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to them. That should sound very familiar to you, for these are the very same words we use each Sunday in our Thanksgiving at the Table as our risen Lord is also made known to us in the breaking of bread. This made all the difference for those two disciples two thousand years ago. And it makes all the difference for us as well.
Up to this point in the story in Luke, the news of Jesus being alive again was dismissed as an idle tale. But then their eyes were immediately opened and they recognized the living Jesus in the shared meal of blessed and broken bread.
That sacramental meal encounter generated not just recognition, but resurrection faith. 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?” Burning hearts, passionate hearts, those are words of new, living faith in the risen Christ.
And notice the overall flow of the encounter. Jesus gathers with the two on the road. They share stories. Jesus then interprets the scriptural word. They break bread. And then they immediately go to share with the other disciples the good news. “That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem, and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together… Then they told what had happened on the road and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” (Luke 24:33, 35)
The narrative arc of the story of the Road to Emmaus matches the narrative arc of our Sunday assembly: we gather together in conversation about what’s transpiring in the world and in our lives. Then the word about Jesus is read and interpreted. Then we share the eye-opening sacramental meal. Finally, we get up and go to tell others the good news of our encounter with Christ: the living Christ is among us and is known to us in the breaking of the bread.
In all of this, we go from standing still looking sad and without hope to being full of renewed faith and energy to go into the world with the good news.
Moreover, it’s this kind of encounter with the Spirit of Christ in the proclamation of God’s mighty deeds of power in raising Jesus from the dead (as we heard in today’s first reading from Acts) that goads us into asking, “so what should we do?”
And we hear the answer, as did the early believers, “For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.” And “save yourselves from this corrupt generation.” (Cf Acts 2:14a, 38-40) That led to the baptism of Jesus’ early followers. And it led to our baptisms as well.
And that’s when our newly found faith blossoms into genuine affection as we love one another deeply from the heart, for we “have been born anew, not of perishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God.” (cf. 1 Peter 1:22-23)
This is the fundamental dynamic of our being together on the Lord’s Day, the day of resurrection when every Sunday is Easter. This is the dynamic of the whole of the Christian life of faith: our encounters with the living Christ in the scriptural word and in the holy sacraments create faith and drive us back into the world with good news, healing news, hopeful news that death and destruction and domination do not have the last word.
God knows our sad world needs this good news. There are so many standing still, looking sad and feeling hopeless for any number of reasons. But we have a gift to offer as we share the bread of life, who is Christ, with the world. We share this bread of life through our hope-giving words and in our life-giving deeds. And all of this proclaims good news to a bad news world: alleluia, Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia. Amen.
