On the Emmaus Road

Hi Mark,

What an excellent homily! Thinking about what we were saying last night I think your piece could belong in any Christian Church - Catholic, Protestant,Orthodox, etc. Really embracing, ecumenical and thought-provoking.

If I remember rightly the Emmaus story is always the"featured" Gospel on "Low Sunday", the first one after Easter, and yeah, there's definitely this thing about knowing how the story ends up, whereas of course for the disciples on the road, blinded by that mixture of shame, guilt and fear you articulate so well, they had no idea of the depth of the encounter in front of them and it took Christ some time to gradually bring them to a state where they could recognise Him.

In part 5 of The Wasteland T.S Eliot brings in an Emmausesque motif -

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
But who is that on the other side of you?

At this stage of the poem though there is no real suggestion of resurrection and rebirth. The Emmaus theme is just one of several hints and guesses in the dark. The Wasteland, which values words over the Word, remains intact. Here's the very next stanza -

What is that sound high in the air?
Murmer of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violent air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal

Then comes the rain and a sudden opening onto what reality might be like at a more central region -

I have heard the key
Turn in the door and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Corialanus.

It's like Rembrandt's Supper at Emmaus, where he captures perfectly the moment - as you say, at thebreaking of bread - when the barriers are lifted from the disciples eyes and they recognise, know and understand. There've been spells in my life where I've felt abandoned by the Divine and chastised myself for having tried to cultivate a relationship with a bunch of gods who not only do not care but, even more annoyingly, do not give a toss either way! And then there always comes a point where the mist rises, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, and I recognise that there was a Presence with me all along, but in the "sturm und drang" of my mixed up whirlwind of emotions and desires I had been, like King Lear in the storm, too blind to see.



"Aslan!", says Lucy in The Voyage of the DawnTreader, "where have you been"?

"I have been her all the time Lucy, but you have just made me invisible".

Rembrandt, Supper at Emmaus

Emmaus Road

Psalm 116
Luke 24: 13-35

Things aren’t what they seem. On the road to Emmaus, things aren’t what they seem. Two travellers take this road, leaving Jerusalem behind and with that, a sad and confused state of affairs. And so this road gives a sense of distance, a chance to take stock and with that an opportunity to make sense of the past few days – days that have left them bitter, confused and with dashed hopes. The man who would save Israel had been crucified by the Romans. He had been publicly humiliated and executed, betrayed by his followers who, with embarrassment, scattered themselves at the very hour of trouble. Regret, I imagine, was hanging strong off the two. Regret that they – and the 11 - had done nothing to defend the man they saw as their saviour, and perhaps even a secret regret in following Jesus – who had capitulated so easily. Yet, more than this is the confusion. A bizarre and curious claim had emerged from some of the followers – that Jesus’ tomb was empty. Not only this, but that he was alive.

The two travellers are taking their confusion on the road, trying to make sense of this disappointing and odd situation. The road seems long and the line from Psalm 116, “I suffered distress and aguish”, may ring true. For the travellers the distress is not just in the past events but in their inability to make sense of them. There is no resolution in sight and the Road to Emmaus is long.

But on the Road to Emmaus things aren’t as they seem. And a third traveller appears. Overhearing the intense discussion of the first two, he asks them to explain. “Are you the only stranger who does not know?” they reply in shock. But, we, the readers, have it easy here. We know what is about to take place. It’s a famous story and the passage itself leaves nothing hidden. But they are blinded to his true identity: “Their eyes were kept from recognising him”.

This shouldn’t, however, prevent us from understanding their shock and confusion. More often than not, life presents us with situations without resolution, without an end in sight. So whatever we know about the third traveller’s true identity, and however easy it is to quickly read the passage over, we’ve all been on the Emmaus Road, as it were. And here it becomes more profound. “Life”, said Kierkegaard “makes sense backwards but must be lived forwards”. This is the irony of the human condition, and where the confusion lies. But irony is also a powerful tool and things aren’t what they seem on the Road to Emmaus. Christ exemplifies this when he asks the two, “what are you discussing as you walk along?”

Perhaps an example would help here - a pagan example, that of the master-ironist Socrates. He was declared the wisest man by the Delphic Oracle, only because he was most aware of his own ignorance. And so, with irony as his tool, Socrates walked the streets of ancient Athens. He talked with, discussed and questioned people - all the while feigning ignorance in order for others to explain themselves and their beliefs. It turned out that not many people knew what they were talking about. Socrates, by acting the student and through persistent questioning, exposed the ignorance of others. Military generals did not know what courage was. Political theorists could not explain justice. Slaves were shown to be just as intelligent as their masters. But his intentions were never to humiliate people, rather to reveal the truth in discussion and put an end to people’s confused and unbalanced beliefs. Socrates played the ignorant student, but was in fact the wise teacher.

Irony is a powerful tool – it’s disarming. The shock of the two travellers on the road to Emmaus shows this – they are disarmed long before they realise that the man asking “what are you discussing?” is not only fully aware of the events, but the very subject matter. The third traveller is Christ himself. This is the resolution, the end of the confusion on the Road to Emmaus. But it doesn’t occur immediately – it’s not in his interpretation of the events or his incredible reading of the scriptures (although the two travellers remember this later, at the time he was still only a stranger to them).

The resolution comes when Christ joins them for a meal. The resolution and revelation of Christ is in the breaking of the bread. “Their eyes were opened”, the bitterness, confusion and regret is drawn to a close. In the words of the Psalm, “you have loosed my bonds”. The road to Emmaus is long, but all is not what it seems. And fittingly, the breaking of the bread is offered to us now – a revelation and resolution.