On my road to Emmaus…

I  have always imagined myself with the two disciples going from Jerusalem to Emmaus, feeling dejected after witnessing their hope, Jesus the Messiah, being crucified to death: we had hoped he would be the one to save Israel…

I can see them furrowing their foreheads, clouds rolling into an evening fold, dry-eyed now but with lumps remaining in their throats; yet still with steely resolution to defy all that which does not promote the liberation of Israel, perhaps even prepared to use violence for their spiritual cases—after all they were expecting an all conquering Messiah.

Identifying religious truth with military victory is something embedded in the Jewish tradition, since the days when Moses had to remain raising his hands to heaven for Israel to win a battle. God has always been used as an ally for nationalistic schematics by those who wanted to thrust their own lever into the cracks of history.

As they walked, Cleophas and his friend saw a stranger, with a penetrating stare, I am sure, drawing closer—there is something about the resurrected body of Christ that made his disciples and apostles not recognise him at first.  Remember when Jesus appeared to his disciples at the sea of Tiberias. Simon Peter had gone fishing with others and laboured all night without catching anything.

When the morning came Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not recognise him. Jesus told them to cast their net on the right side of the boat, and the disciple whom Jesus loved told Peter it was the Lord. When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord he removed his fisher coat and cast himself into the sea.

This has always been the reaction of those who find faith, whose eyes have been opened, to leave the flocks they tend in order to investigate the burning bush.

On the road to Emmaus, Jesus drew near to open the disciples’ beholden eyes. And it came to pass that he sat with them and upon breaking of bread their eyes were opened, and they knew him; and he vanished out of their sight.

After he had vanished they said one to another: “Did not our hearts burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the scriptures?”

Why is it that our hearts no longer burn when the scriptures are opened to us? Could it be our faith has gone timid and our eyes become dim?

After encountering the burning bush Moses left the flocks he was tending, Peter cast himself to the sea, and the disciples rose up the same hour and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven gathered together, and them that were with them, saying: “The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon.”

And as they thus spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and said unto them: “Peace be unto you.” But they were terrified and affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a spirit. And he said unto them: “Why are ye troubled? And why do thoughts arise in your hearts? Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.”

And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of an honeycomb. And he took it, and did eat before them. And he said unto them: “These are the words which I spake unto you, while I was yet with you, that all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning me.”

Then he opened their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures. And ye are witnesses of these things. And, behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high.

Do not be afraid little flock.