Scripture: Luke 24:13-35
Two people — Cleopas and an unnamed one were walking to Emmaus, a small village near Jerusalem. They had been in Jerusalem for the Passover, and were just returning home. They very well may have been present at Jesus’ crucifixion. These two men were talking with each other about the terrible events of the weekend.
A week ago, people had welcomed Jesus with Hosannas and palm branches. Jesus’ ministry really seemed to be taking off. But the crowds had shifted suddenly, as crowds often do. One weekend, they shouted “Hosanna!” The next weekend, they shouted, “Crucify him!”
As these two walked from Jerusalem to Emmaus, they were talking about that. Their heads were swimming with the suddenness of it all––and their hearts were full of despair. Then Jesus came near and joined them, but they didn’t recognize him. Jesus asked, “What are you talking about as you walk, why so sad?” (v. 17).
They stopped! Cleopas said: “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn’t know the things which have happened there in these days?” (v. 18). That’s pretty funny, isn’t it! They were asking Jesus if he was the only person who didn’t know what had happened in Jerusalem––when, in fact, he was the only one who really did know what happened there.
But as innocent as a baby, Jesus asked: “What things?” (v. 19). So they began to tell him about Jesus––about his great promise––about their great hopes–– about the fickle crowds––and about the Bad Friday that had ended everything.
They spoke the saddest words that anyone ever speaks. They said, “We were hoping….” But they no longer hoped! They had lost hope. Then they told Jesus about the women who had discovered the empty tomb and the men who had verified that Jesus was gone.
But they did not know what to make of that. Perhaps someone had stolen the body.
“We were hoping,” they said.
• They had hoped that Jesus would be the Messiah.
• They had hoped that Jesus might restore Israel to greatness.
• They had hoped that Jesus might drive the hated Roman soldiers out of Israel.
• They had hoped that Jesus would be the one for whom they had waited so long.
But they no longer hoped. They said, “We were hoping.” That’s the language of broken hearts––”We were hoping.” But hadn’t the women said that they had discovered the open tomb? Hadn’t the men verified that Jesus was no longer to be found in that tomb? Yes, of course they did. But this pair of disciples didn’t know what to make of it. It would have been quite a stretch for them to acknowledge that God had raised Jesus from the dead. The fact that the tomb was empty was far too little evidence for them to conclude that Jesus was alive. “We were hoping,” they said––hope in the past tense.
But Jesus said, “Foolish men, and slow of heart to believe in all that the prophets have spoken!” (v. 25). And then, beginning with Moses and all the prophets, Jesus began to teach them about himself. People have been meeting Jesus on the road for centuries, both then and now, and he’s on the road you’re travelling today.
The writer Mark Link tells a story that many parents can relate to. He tells a story about a woman name Regina Riley. For years she had prayed that her two sons would return to the faith. Then one Sunday morning in church she couldn’t believe her eyes. Her two sons came in and sat across the aisle from her! Her joy and gratitude overflowed, and tears began to stream down her face. Afterward she asked her sons what prompted their return to the church.
The younger son told a story. One Sunday morning they were driving down a country road. It was pouring rain. Suddenly they came upon an old man without an umbrella. He was soaked through and through, and walked with a noticeable limp. Yet he kept trudging doggedly along the road. The brothers stopped and picked him up. (There are still a few places, believe it or not, where people still do that).
It turned out that the stranger was on his way to Mass at a church three miles down the road. The brothers took him there. Since the rain was coming down so hard, and since they had nothing better to do, they decided to wait for the stranger to take him home after church.
It wasn’t long before the two boys figured they might as well go inside rather than wait in the car. As the two brothers listened to the reading of the scriptures and sat through the breaking of the bread, their hearts began to burn. The only way they could later explain it was to day,“You know, Mother, it felt so right. Like coming home after a long, tiring trip.”
The story of the two brothers, and their encounter with the stranger on that country road bearsa striking resemblance to today’s gospel. The two disciples traveling along the Emmaus road had once followed Jesus with hope and joy. They truly believed he was sent by God. Then came the stormy hours of Good Friday. All their hopes and dreams got smashed into a thousand pieces. Totally disillusioned, they left Jesus in an unmarked tomb and returned to their former ways.
It was against this background that they met the stranger on the Emmaus road. The disciples listened to him. Later they watched him break bread. Their hearts began to burn inside. Something moved them deeply. The stranger was not a stranger at all. It was Jesus. He was alive and risen.
Almost the identical thing happened to the brothers on that country road. There was a time when they followed Jesus closely. Their mother took them to Sunday School. Then came the stormy days of adolescence. All their hopes and dreams got smashed into a thousand pieces. Totally disillusioned, they left Jesus behind in an unmarked tomb and went their own way.
It was against this background that the two boys met the stranger on a country road one rainy Sunday morning. He spoke to the brothers about Jesus, not by using words, but by his example. Why in the world would a crippled man trudge three miles in the pouring rain to go to church? And as they listened, their hearts began to burn within them. Then during the breaking of the bread, they discovered the Jesus they had lost.
The story of the disciples on the Emmaus road and the story of the brothers on the country road are not unlike the people of today. Many have had stormy periods in their lives when faith was left behind. During those stormy periods, some left the Church. Some became disillusioned. Some didn’t feel accepted.
But then one day something changed. Maybe they were going through tough times like today. Someone invited them to church – this time, a different church. They felt welcome, accepted, and they made that church their home.
I’ve had a few people like that who came to my church over the years. They walked by the church numerous times, and decided one Sunday to stop by. They were warmly welcomed, felt at home, and often decided to come back. I always felt that if people came once, they would be welcomed, and they would be back.
There have been numerous times when my heart has burned after a holy encounter — like when I was first called to the ministry; when I met my wife; when my boys were born; when we moved to California; and when I came to this church.
What about you? When has your heart burned afater a holy encounter? It can happen in the middle of a pandemic, in the kindness of strangers, in quite moments when you are alone or saying a prayer, or taking a walk in the woods as spring bursts forth, or when you realize our planet is slowly starting to heal because people are not polluting as much.
A holy encounter can even happen through Zoom, because you realize you are with people you care about, and who care about you. A holy encounter can happen anywhere and any time. Will you know it when you see it or feel it? May you recognize the risen One when you meet him on the road, and may you always have a case of holy heartburn. Amen.