Easter Wednesday

In this first week of the 50 days of the Easter season, I am reading some of the gospel accounts of the resurrection appearances of Jesus to his disciples. My favourite is the one set for today Luke 24: 13 - 35, the story of the road to Emmaus. It was the 1^st day of the week, when according to Luke, women went to Jesus’ tomb, saw the stone rolled away, found no body and were told by angels that Jesus had risen. They went to tell the apostles who didn’t believe them. That same day 2 of Jesus’ followers walked to Emmaus, a village a few miles from Jerusalem. One was Cleopas but Luke doesn’t name the other. She may have been his wife, possibly the same woman mentioned in John 19: 12 as one of those present at Jesus’ crucifixion. Cleopas’ companion may have been a man, but if a woman, that enriches the story for me. Not least because the experience of Cleopas and his companion shows how Jesus may make himself known to anyone through Scriptures and the Breaking of Bread. That’s not a ‘men-only’ experience. It’s my experience too.

 Some years ago, I retold Luke’s Emmaus road story, imagining I was Cleopas’ wife.  Here it is:

“As we walked we talked - argued a bit really. We were discouraged and grief-stricken. We’d pinned our hopes on Jesus. Now he was dead and confusion was added to our grief. We’d heard weird rumours of a rising from the dead. Nothing made sense, so we argued, not knowing what to believe. We hardly noticed the Stranger catching up with us and eavesdropping on our conversation. He asked what we discussed, but he must have heard. Cleopas told him our story. How it had begun so well. How Jesus was such a ‘good man’ who could have been a great leader, made things better. The world needed someone like him, with so much wrong everywhere you look. Jesus’ words had power. A great teacher, he made us laugh and cry. He inspired hope and did amazing things. People that the doctors gave up on, he healed. He showed such love, especially to the ‘no-hopers’. It wasn’t just what he did, it was who he was that impressed us. We loved him. Jesus had enemies. He got arrested and tried. He’d done nothing wrong, but the sentence was death. A better description would be judicial murder, on a rubbish heap, without dignity or privacy, slowly and shamefully. I know. I was there, in Jerusalem. He didn’t deserve that. Now, it was finished. Our friend and the one we’d begun to believe was the promised Messiah, was dead and buried.

 We were shocked by the Stranger’s reaction. Most people would express sympathy. This man was blunt. He more or less told us we were stupid, asked why we hadn’t seen what was going on. Didn’t we understand the old prophets? Then the Stranger explained our sacred scriptures in a way that made sense. He was a good teacher this Stranger, a good man. We both felt a glow of hope rekindled but didn’t dare tell each other this until later. I thought Cleopas would accuse me of having a womanly flight of fancy, like some of the other women who claimed that Jesus had risen from the dead.

 It was nearly dark when we got home. We did what was right and invited the Stranger to stay. In any case we wanted more of what he seemed to offer. What happened next changed our lives. Our guest, the Stranger, took the host’s role. Cleopas should have done it, but at the supper table this Guest took bread in his hands, gave thanks to God, broke the bread and gave it to us. Then our eyes were opened and we recognized him. We believed, although it seemed unbelievable. Our dear friend Jesus, murdered on the rubbish heap, was alive and eating supper with us. Then he went. Yet he remains, like a fire in our hearts, never to be put out. And from that day, every time we share bread with other companions in the Way of Jesus and open the Scriptures together, we know Christ is truly alive and present with us.”

Lord, renew our faith, increase our hope, and set our hearts on fire with your love. Amen.

Image Credit: The Walk to Emmaus mosaic 1970. Part of the 3rd Station of the Resurection by Rowan LeCompte and Irene Matz LeCompte. In the Resurrection Chapel, National Cathedral, Washington D.C., USA