A Stranger on the Road

The Third Sunday of Easter
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Even though we celebrated Easter two weeks ago, the events in today’s gospel actually took place on Easter Sunday. The poor apostles were in shock with everything that happened over the preceding days—and especially over the latest bombshell. The girls, and then Peter, had all been to Jesus’ tomb and found the stone rolled away and the grave empty. Probably a million questions were going through their minds as they tried to figure out just what had happened. Where was Jesus? What happened to him? Did somebody take his body? What were the Romans up to now? Or was this something that the Pharisees had masterminded?

Just the week before, Jesus had come into Jerusalem to shouts of joy and songs of hosanna. His path was covered with palm branches and the cloaks of his admirers. Folks listened with eagerness to his teaching. He and his companions celebrated a beautiful and moving Passover. And then he was betrayed, arrested, subjected to a mock trial, found guilty, and crucified until death like a common criminal. Now even his body went missing. It all happened so fast. And now it all seemed to be over. No wonder these two wanted to get out of town.

So here they were, walking along, when a stranger joined them and intruded into their sadness and confusion… their time of privacy and intimacy. It was Jesus, of course, but they didn’t recognize him—and he didn’t identify himself… and even if he had, I wonder if the two would have believed him. Instead, he simply engaged them in conversation. He asked what they were talking about. They were amazed that he didn’t know what had happened in Jerusalem.

Even in the best of times, there’s always a certain ambiguity about a stranger. Will the stranger be a friend or a foe? Can this unknown person be trusted? Is it safe to open up to him? Given the circumstances and political climate of those days, I would have thought they would have been afraid to reveal themselves as disciples, but maybe they were just too nervous or shell-shocked to think straight.

You know how when a disaster happens or someone famous dies, people just can’t talk about anything else? We all have our own interpretation of what happened and like to discuss it endlessly. So I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that these two disciples thought they knew all about what had happened with Jesus. They thought his ministry was over. There wasn’t even a tomb to visit. No, death was about as final as you could get. Maybe they thought Jesus blew it. Maybe they were feeling angry and let down. Surely they were grieving.

Walking has always been one of my favorite ways to work things out. When I don’t know what to do or don’t want to do something I have to do, I go for a walk. Sometimes I pray. Sometimes I talk to myself. Often I don’t know the difference! That’s why I imagine that walking and talking was good for these men, too. Maybe their long walk to Emmaus was a kind of prayer to help them clear their heads and sort things out.

As with us, Jesus knew they would have to babble on for a while before they would be ready to get some answers—before they would even know what questions to ask. So he let them talk, and he walked with them. He was there, but he was a stranger.

In the Scriptures, the stranger, surrounded by ambiguity, is often a symbol of the future... our unknown life that lies ahead. In fact, because all life comes from God, we can say that the stranger in a way comes to represent God. So the way that someone welcomes a stranger reveals their basic stance toward the future, life and ultimately God.

This gospel about meeting the stranger on the road to Emmaus, then, is a story about trust. The critical moment in the story came when the two disciples reached the city gates and had to decide whether or not to invite this fellow who had been walking with them to their home. In other words, despite their pain, would the disciples still trust that life, the future, and even God himself were trustworthy and good?

At that special, critical moment, the disciples turned to the stranger and said, “Stay with us.” As a result of their trust, even after the painful loss of their most precious hope, they received the promise of God for a future beyond their wildest dreams. Here is where Jesus gave them a sign. He broke bread and gave it to them as a reminder that although his body had been broken, his promise had not. He still walked with them.

As always, the living word of God is more than just a historical recounting of a past event. It has deep meaning for us today—here and now. At various points in life, we all meet up with strangers, often when we want nothing more than privacy or some space. We all are touched by painful losses that God permits to happen and that may really throw us for a loop.

When that happens, when we’re reeling from life’s hard blows, we would do well to remember today’s gospel. It challenges us to keep our faith even when we’ve lost our hope. It assures us that no matter what life seems to be dishing out, Christ is very much with us. It teaches us that if we’re willing to trust life as God offers it to us, then we will discover Christ present to us in wondrous ways that we have yet to recognize… but some day we will.

Yes, Christ’s promise to those two disciples on the road to Emmaus is also his promise to us. He still walked with them, and he still walks with us—on any old road we happen to be traveling. May we always remember that and believe it.