I dare say that the Gospel about the two disciples on the road to Emmaus is one of the most beautiful and instructive passages in the Bible. It is challenging to incorporate so many symbols into one sermon and encapsulate the transformation of these disciples’ hearts within that time ellipsis. It is truly a difficult task for one sermon when it is the theme of entire retreats. Let’s start right at the beginning in Jerusalem. It says, ‘That very day, the first day after the Sabbath…’ — an important time reference. It was still that day — the day when Christ rose from the dead. It was the day when, early in the morning, the women were confronted with the empty tomb, and the disciples followed. The Sanhedrin began to proclaim throughout the city that Christ’s disciples had stolen his body, and the disciples, full of fear, closed themselves in the locked Upper Room. The two pilgrims (we know only the name of one, Cleophas) undoubtedly also belonged to Christ’s inner circle, as they were well acquainted with these events. They probably met both the women and the disciples. This reminder is appropriate and important, even on that day. It was not customary for pilgrims to leave Jerusalem immediately after the holidays, so what drove them from Jerusalem that day must have been uncertainty, the loss of all illusions and hopes, and probably fear, restlessness, and unrest. Let’s start right at the beginning in Jerusalem. It is, quote: “that very day, the first day after the Sabbath …” which is an important time reference. Still that day—the day when Christ rose from the dead. The day when, early in the morning, the women were confronted with the empty tomb and, after them, the disciples. When the Sanhedrin begins to trumpet throughout the city that Christ’s disciples have stolen the body of Jesus, and these, full of fear, close themselves behind the locked doors of the Upper Room. The two pilgrims (we know the name of only one, Cleophas) undoubtedly also belong among Christ’s close collaborators, since he knows all these events well. They probably met both the women and the disciples. Even that day, this reminder is appropriate and important. Even the same day that Jesus was resurrected, it was not customary for pilgrims to leave Jerusalem immediately after the holidays, and between the lines: what drives them from Jerusalem is uncertainty, the loss of all illusions and hopes; doubts, restlessness, and unrest, and probably also fear.
That very day, they took what they had with them and set off alone on their way back, perhaps to Galilee. The first stop, and apparently the most common one, was Emmaus (although archaeologists have not yet reliably identified it, the village of Abu Goš, which has a Crusader monastery, is traditionally considered to be it). According to the Scriptures, it was located “60 furlongs from Jerusalem” (approximately 11–12 km). They set off alone and are preoccupied with the events they witnessed during this year’s Passover, as well as being filled with pain over the crucifixion of Christ, in whom they had placed so much hope, just like his other disciples. On top of all that, they received the news that morning that the tomb was empty and that soldiers were marching through the city. The temple guards and the spies of the Sanhedrin would probably be looking for Christ’s disciples. It would be wise to disappear in time. They are afraid, and why should they not admit it? Their departure from Jerusalem is actually an escape. From the events that have occurred, from the events that are likely to occur — and, above all, from themselves. (Which is impossible, but how many such ‘escapes from ourselves’ has each of us had?) They leave Jerusalem in a hurry, abandoning their friends and the Holy City, which they entered a week ago with so many expectations, hope, and joyful hosannas. They were euphoric that the Messiah had finally come. Now, all of that is gone. Christ died as a criminal; not even his body remains. All hope is in ruins, and they are consumed by enormous confusion. This “escape” seems to be the best solution. Because “what the heart is full of, the mouth overflows”, they talk about everything that has happened. As they talked and thought, one of the pilgrims joined them. Nothing unusual. Traveling alone was dangerous, so it was common for pilgrims to travel in larger groups. The stranger is no different, and they continue the conversation they started — there is so much they need to say. Then the fellow pilgrim naively asks: ‘What are you talking about?’ His question surprises them. How could someone come from Jerusalem and not know about the recent events? In layman’s terms, we would probably say, ‘Have you been living under a rock?’
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Jesus is a good psychologist. He knows that the two of them — and, of course, many others — need to get rid of all their uncertainty, tension, and doubts. He lets them talk, and then he sighs, saying, ‘How foolish and slow of heart you are to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary for the Messiah to suffer all these things and enter into his glory?’ Then he slowly begins to discuss the Scriptures. He discusses the types of the Messiah, the “suffering servant” and “Ebed Yahweh”. Jesus discusses the books of Scripture, and their eyes are opened and their hearts are inflamed. Yes, indeed. It fits! And how it all fits together! Full of amazement, they listen to the connections that had escaped them until now. The journey passes quickly, and it is probably late afternoon by the time they reach their destination. The unknown pilgrim wants to continue, as if he would like to speak to them: ‘Stay with us, for it is getting late and the day is already far spent.’ The stranger does not let himself be persuaded; he accepts a place in the house and at the table — and then it happens. In front of everyone, the head of the community takes the bread, breaks it, and gives it to them. Then their eyes are finally opened. They recognize Jesus in the familiar gesture of breaking bread. Finally, they have truly met him! As if he had fulfilled his task, he unexpectedly (and inexplicably disappears. There is no longer any need for him to remain with them. They have recognized Jesus and believed in him as the Messiah! ‘Did our hearts not burn within us while he spoke to us on the road and explained the meaning of the Scriptures? ‘There is no more need.
They fled from Jerusalem at noon, and now, in the evening, he returns. It is important to be where the apostles are. Jesus is there in their midst. They belong there, too. They are no longer afraid or doubtful. ‘That very hour they set out on their journey and returned to Jerusalem.’
Despite the late hour and their fatigue, the encounter with Jesus fills them with the Spirit, strength, and joy. They turn around, saying, ‘Repent and believe in the Gospel, and go back. They meet the apostles, who are also transformed — they have encountered the Lord, too. Full of joy — because joy, peace, and courage are the fruits of the encounter with Christ — they share what has happened. The Holy Spirit, the Spirit of the Father and the Son, has illuminated their hearts, opening their eyes and minds. They are not orphans; they are children of God and brothers. The church is born, united in faith, hope, love, prayer, and the breaking of bread, and “of one heart and one soul”. This is the fruit of the “first day after the Sabbath,” the day that changed the course of world history. It was the day when Christ rose from the dead and entered into his glory. Here on earth, he transformed everything and everyone with his spirit.
However, no emotion — be it joy or enthusiasm — will last forever. Even among the first Christians, the spirit of unity will begin to fade. But faith, hope, and love are eternal. These are gifts that have not lost their strength or value. May we experience that joy of meeting Christ, too. May our hearts burn when we hear the words of Scripture. May we encounter him during the Eucharist, when we break bread. And may we experience belonging and unity within the Church community.
Let us turn away from our own personal ‘Emmaus’, where we have often fled from others and from ourselves. Let us not be afraid of being infected with joy, peace, and faith. This virus of love for Christ is not harmful like the coronavirus; it does not kill, and if it does, then only the older man within us—and there is no harm in that; there is no need to cry over it. Let us return to the church’s upper room — albeit now with significantly limited operations — and rejoice! (And let us not be afraid!)
Hello. And Bye.