On the Road to Emmaus
and the moments when understanding comes later
This is one of those reflections that unfolds slowly.
You are very welcome to take your time with it.
There is something about the Emmaus road that always captures my imagination. I find myself coming back to it each year, and it pulls me in again.
Not because it is dramatic. In many ways, there are many more dramatic stories around the resurrection. It is just two people walking, talking, trying to make sense of what has just happened.
Maybe it is the honesty that strikes me.
They are leaving Jerusalem.
That detail is easy to miss, but once you notice it, it seems to change the feel of the whole story. They are not waiting, watching, or holding on in hope. They are walking away from the place where everything has happened.
The tomb has been found empty. The women have brought their strange and troubling report. Something has changed.
But for these two, it is not enough.
So they leave.
— • —
I really get their motivation for doing that.
There are moments when something important has happened, or is beginning to happen, and we do not quite know what to do with it. Maybe it doesn’t fit our expectations or resolve in the way we think it should.
So we mentally begin to step back.
We don’t usually announce this; it is often an agreement with ourselves. Outwardly, we carry on with what we are doing and even keep talking, thinking, and trying to make sense of things. But somewhere underneath, we have already begun to close that chapter of our lives.
The Emmaus story seems to understand that kind of moment in a way that feels uncomfortably close.
— • —
What strikes me is that they are not at all ignorant of what has happened.
They know what has happened. They can recount the events. They know about the crucifixion. They know the tomb was empty. They have even heard the report that he is alive.
They have the facts.
And still, they do not recognise him.
That line always stops me.
It feels like the moment where hope begins to slip into the past tense.
