Masked Emmaus Journey
Luke 24:13-26
Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?”
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One of the last passages we looked at in our Bible study before we all went into self-isolation, was this passage from the Gospel According to Luke. Cleopas and his companion are on their way to Emmaus, when all of a sudden, this stranger comes out of nowhere. Looking back, we know that this stranger was none other than Jesus, yet something kept Cleopas and his companion from recognizing him. Perhaps their grief kept them from seeing, or maybe Jesus' face was covered and obstructed their view. There's something about being able to see a person's full face that establishes a connection, and when that is taken away, our minds tell us that something is not right. Yet perhaps it's in that discomfort of not knowing and not seeing where Jesus pushes us into the unknown spaces where we can grow.
We find ourselves walking on the road to Emmaus when we feel discouraged, uncertain, or just too tired to go on with our daily routine. We find ourselves walking on the way to Emmaus when we intentionally avert our gaze from the hurt or pain in the eyes of our brothers and sisters who were created in the very same image of God. We find ourselves walking on the road to Emmaus when systems that are oppressive and destructive seem to overcome the forces of justice and peace. We find ourselves walking on the way to Emmaus when in our daily lives, we are unable to identify the stranger who has been walking alongside us as Jesus Christ for one reason or another. Perhaps our eyes are veiled like Cleopas and those who traveled with him.
It is disrupting or unsettling when you are not able to see someone's face. So much of our human communication revolves around the subtle messages we send through our facial features. Besides missing a vital part of our human connection, we find that adapting to wearing and seeing others wear masks to be a complicated process. We don't wear masks because we're sick, we wear them so that we can keep ourselves and those around us safe and healthy as well. Yet there is that period of mental readjusting, re-shifting our framework, that comes at the cost of being disorienting. This feeling of being travelers on a long road to Emmaus is growing tiring, and it is growing weary, yet there is something even on this journey for us to discover as we encounter Jesus amid our grief.
However, this is the moment where we have an opportunity to air out the things that have been bothering us and place them into the arms of God. Jesus knows how important it is to have a sacred time and a place to name these things. So Jesus asks Cleopas and his companion, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" In their hurting, Jesus listens and afterward continues to walk with them. And in traveling with them on the road to Emmaus, Jesus begins to talk about Scripture. We might think that Jesus was annoyed with Cleopas and his group, but most likely, Jesus is seizing the opportunity to comfort them, to show them the new way of living as people who have been touched by the resurrection.
I don't know about you, but I've had some extra time on my hands to ponder the resurrection and what it means for us. The resurrection hope seems a little more challenging to grasp as we look at one another with face masks that remind us of this pandemic. The resurrection hope seems out of reach when we remember that COVID-19 fatalities are not just numbers, but actual people. And the resurrection hope may appear to be far away as we continue to spend time in isolation and practice healthy boundaries. Is there a resurrection life that we can find? I believe so, even if it seems like we are grasping at straws or letting sand pass through our fingers. The risen Christ is walking alongside us and is present, even in those times we cannot see Christ standing there next to us.
There is much that we have lost, but there is also a lot that will be gained. What we didn't get to in this passage is that Jesus continues walking on the road to Emmaus with Cleopas and his companion. When they arrive at the place where they were staying for the evening, they invite Jesus to come and stay with them. Even though they were worn, tired at looking at one another through a veil or facial covering, they extended an offer of hospitality. And at the table when they broke bread with one another, their eyes were open, and at that moment they realized who had been with them the entire time. As they gathered and broke bread and shared a cup, they understood what was necessary and what could be left on the periphery.
When we can worship together again, what are the new priorities we are going to set for ourselves as a church? How will we live as people who profess to follow the risen Christ? I'm not saying we will gather around a table anytime soon and share a meal, but I have to imagine that our priorities have changed. The same is true for the various happenings in our own lives as well. Perhaps the fight we had with a friend, family member, or spouse is not as significant as it was at the start. What I am seeing is that our Emmaus journey is asking us the question, "If we can be there for one another during these times, why can't we also be there when this season has passed?" While I see us continuing online worship activities in the future, my prayer is that as a community of faith, we will be challenged to envision a new future for our church. Amen.