The Road to Emmaus

by Marjorie Hascall

It is a Saturday in Advent, a number of years ago; a Quiet Day is beginning, Bishop Walmsley speaks about this time together.  As he speaks my thoughts are drawn to the nave of the church and to one of the stained glass windows.  I hear little that is being said. Yet one statement dos come through: “We are mostly somewhere else.” Yes, I am somewhere else at this moment, visualizing a window – The Road to Emmaus.

As each of the periods for meditation begins I enter the church and sit where I can study and focus on the window.  It is a particular favorite of mine.  Jesus sitting there with two people, appearing in conversation.  I notice the marks of the nails on his hands.  The woman in the scene seems to be reaching out to touch those hands in a caring, soothing, healing way.  Do they see who this person is or are their eyes still clouded.  I look beyond the foreground to the village and hills beyond.  The stars in the sky are so brilliant, they almost seems to be twinkling.

The ‘caption’ to the window states ‘He broke bread and gave it to them, then their eyes were opened.’  Where is the bread?  Have they eaten?  Are they now seeing Jesus for who he is?  Do I see Jesus? Are my eyes opened after I receive the consecrated bread and wine?

What always draws me to this window?  What does it represent to me that I don’t see?  What is there that I do not see?  On the surface there is the night sky with the stars shining brilliantly. The hill with its many earth tones, the village and the foreground with Jesus and this couple.  They have welcomed him into their home.  He is the Risen Christ, who they don’t recognize until he breaks bread and gives it to them.  I am on the outside looking in on the scene.  What would it be like if I could step into the scene and join the group?

Would I have recognized Jesus and welcomed him as my Lord; or would it have taken the act of blessing, breaking and giving me bread to have recognized him, for me to know him as the Risen Christ, 

My eyes are drawn time and time again to the marks of the nails on his hands.  It I were in the scene would I have seen them.  They tell us who he is.  They are reminders of the agony he has suffered.  Is the woman now reaching out to touch those marks in hopes of healing them?  There is a look of concern on the man’s face.  What is he thinking?  This is the resurrected Jesus – the Savior, the Redeemer.

I look to the sky and the stars.  They shine this night as they shone the night Jesus of Nazareth was born.  They are the same stars that shine now on this earth 2000 years later.

There is a bowl between Jesus and the couple.  It appears empty – the bread must have been consumed.  That may be the answer to the look of concern on the young man’s face.  He wonders – “How can this be?”  He was taken from the cross and buried; yet here he is with us.  He fed us, he opened our eyes, he is our Lord.  He has returned from the dead.  How can this be?”

The woman reaches out as if to touch those wounded hands.  Does his garment reveal evidence of his pierced side?  No, and the hands are not blood stained only the marks of the nails are revealed.  Jesus, who was fully human, now reveals his full divinity in human form.  Yes, all those years from the time he was born he was both fully human and fully divine.  He enters into the bread that he blesses breaks and gives.

This couple are truly blessed to be in his presence.  The presence of God.  And to this day aren’t we all truly blessed and in the presence of God.  That Jewish couple represents all believing Christians.  They know they are in God’s presence.  Receiving the Holy Bread from that Holy man who is God and has opened their eyes.

Why just the two of them, where are the throngs who welcomed him to Jerusalem just a few short days ago?  But this scene might have lost its power if throngs had gathered.  God doesn’t need throngs of people to reveal himself – He does it best it seems to the few at a time.  Perhaps that is the  reason the quiet service of Holy Eucharist with few in attendance is for me the more Holy Service.  Where I feel the strong presence of God, where I feel truly fed.

It is as if at those times that I have entered this scene for the quiet private time with God that I seem to yearn for.  This is where and when I feel that I can best talk with my God.

Maybe I am sitting there with the others talking with this stranger that we met on the road to Emmaus.  We were returning from Jerusalem, after that terrible Friday.  When the man we had known as the Teacher was crucified.  He appeared to be lonely as we met him on the road.  It was growing dark – not really all that safe to be traveling alone.  We greeted him, and invited him to join us as we walked toward our home.

There was something strange about this man.  There was both a look of defeat and triumph about him,  and those deep scratches on his forehead and the marks on his hands, what were they?  He somehow seems lost and lonely yet he moves with purpose.  He tells us nothing about himself yet we find ourselves sharing fully with him our lives, our hopes and our dreams, our cares, our worries.  How strange!  How can this be?

We invite him into our dwelling where he joins us in conversation.  The lamp is lit to break through the darkness of the place.  Over the courtyard wall we can see the village close at hand and the hills looming high in the distance.  The sky is so blue tonight, a dark, dark blue that allows the stars to shine brightly.

Bread and wine are prepared and brought to where we sit.  This man, this stranger now seems to be larger than life.  Without a word he takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and offers it to us.

Suddenly we realize who this stranger is.  He is the Risen Lord who had been crucified just days before.  He is here with us.  Our God and our Savior.  We say nothing for a while, we are in awe of this man, who is no longer a stranger or a man but is our God.  We recall all those other times that we were with him.  All too soon he prepares to leave to continue his journey.  He rises blesses us and moves out of the circle of light and out of the door of our dwelling.  We watch as he continues along the road into the mist and out of sight.

I now feel that every time I approach the altar rail, where I kneel to

partake of the bread and wine at a celebration of the Holy Eucharist I enter this scene.  Where again the Lord feeds me with the food of pardon, solace strength and renewal.

We are mostly somewhere else!!

The Road to Emmaus 2         by Daniel Bonnell