"You seem to be in a deep discussion about something," he
said. "What are you so concerned about?"
these things before entering his time of glory?"The house is filled with activity when you get back. Peter is telling about the empty tomb. Everyone is bustling around, in a excited and unfocused way, cleaning the house for Jesus’ expected arrival. Where else would he go?
You and Mary walk in. Everyone looks at you with eagerness at first, then gets back to work, or listening or both.
Mary stands for a moment, waiting to be recognized. Peter keeps talking. He is not the most focused of storytellers and keeps getting on tangents.
“I’ve seen the Lord,” Mary finally says. No one pays her any attention.
She looks at you. You shrug.
“I’ve seen the Lord,” she yells.
People turn. Peter stops talking. The bustling around stops.
“In the garden, he came up to me, I talked to him.”
John asks, “What did he say?”
“He told me to tell everyone he is going back to the Father, he is going to ascend to heaven, to be with God.”
“Jesus isn’t coming here?” John asks. “He’s alive, but he’s not coming here?”
She didn’t tell you this was going to be the message. Maybe you weren’t going to see him after all. He’s alive, the tomb is empty, only he is going back to heaven without revealing himself?
The tax collector you saw at the crucifixion stands up and says, “The other women told us we need to go to Galilee, to meet him there. He’s going home. We need to get our affairs settled and go there.”
Peter asks, “When did he say that?”
Matthew replies, “You left before their story was finished, Peter. They too saw Jesus, on their way back here.”
You heard them say that, only you thought you would get a chance to see him today, somehow.
An older man across the room looks at you, his white hair and beard betraying a still strong body. You stare back, knowing his mind. It is a long walk home today, and neither of you have time to go to Galilee. Who knows what is going on? It is like chasing shadows… or ghosts. The joy of hearing he is alive has cooled off, for you haven’t seen him yet, only heard about it all. Is this how it was going to be from now on? It makes sense for Jesus to come here, where everyone is gathered, only first he says to meet him in Galilee, then he tells Mary he is going to be with God. Maybe these women are seeing things which aren’t real.
“We need to go soon,” he mouths.
“I know,” you say back.
The seven mile walk home is not too difficult, being downhill most of the way. It is the bandits who are the concern. One doesn’t wisely walk at dark. Not now, when the brigands know how many rich travelers will be leaving Jerusalem today. It is best to go in a large group, or at least near a large group.
While everyone else goes to prepare to leave, you and Cleopas finish packing your own things. Sad and downcast eyes tell you that you are not the only ones who cannot make the long trip north. It seems right for him to come here, only he’s not, and while it is nice for those who can go out of their way to see him, not everyone has that luxury. Life calls loudly.
It is near noon by the time everything is ready and goodbyes are said. You ask one of those going north to send you word, to let you know what does or does not happen.
You moved slowly getting ready, Cleopas is impatient to leave, but a part of you thought maybe Jesus would visit, despite what he said.
Now, it is time to go, and it is with only a remnant of the joy from this morning you again go through the gates. You stop for a moment and look in the direction of the tomb. It can’t be seen from here, though you can see it in your mind... the stone rolled away, empty.
“The leaders took the body,” you say.“That’s all.”
“You know,” Cleopas replies, “I’m inclined to agree with you. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the other were really the case, wouldn’t it be wonderful.”
You nod, only you don’t let your hopes get raised again. Both you and
Cleopas are silent for the next mile or two down the mountain. His company
is very welcomed. It would be terrible to go home alone. There’s nothing
really to be said, and both of you get lost in your thoughts.
It is a beautiful day. You wish you could enjoy the walk more.
Cleopas breaks the silence and asks, “What if it was all true? What if Jesus came back, or what if he never died?”
You and he start talking about the possibilities, which drifts into stories you heard about him. Cleopas shares some stories you had not heard. He shares how he met him.
“Now that was a party,” he says, the laughter bursting out of him. He continues, and you share your story. Sadly, it begins to feel like a memorial, the thoughts are like those shared when a person has died. Both of you notice this, and while the conversation continues, it takes on a more serious tone.
The road is full of people. The city is emptying again. It comes as no surprise, then, when a man starts walking close to the both of you. He is a short man, wearing a brown robe, completely nondescript. You notice him only because he seems so happy, looking around at the trees which line the side, watching birds fly from branch to branch, completely enraptured with the world around.
“You both seem to be in a deep discussion about something. What are you so serious about?” the man asks, bounding up to you.
“You don’t know? You must be the only one who hasn’t heard about everything happening here,” Cleopas replies.
“What things?”
You tell him, ending with, “The women say they saw him, and his body is definitely gone. But what are we to think? He cannot be found now, who knows what happened with him?”
The man laughs. He laughs! “You are such a foolish people,” he says. “The prophets told you. They told you it would happen this way, and still you don’t realize that which is right before your eyes.”
You are bothered by his laughter and his irreverence, “They never said anything about this. Where did they talk about any of this?”
He laughs again, then says, “Do you want to know? May I join you on your walk home?”
Cleopas replies, “If you know anything which will help, you are more than welcome.”
“We’re going to Emmaus,” you add.
“Fine, fine, where shall I begin? With Moses maybe,” he says. For the next three hours he talks, quoting lengthy passages from memory, some of which you don’t remember hearing, and certainly were never told they related to the Messiah. His words have such insight, such authority. Who is this man who knows so much? Another prophet? You don’t want to interrupt and ask. He quotes from the Law, the Writings, the Prophets, and tells you how they relate to the ministry of Jesus, even to the end, and beyond.
The walk home takes no time at all, and it is with some regret you realize you need to take a different path to your home.
“Why don’t we continue this over a meal,” Cleopas suggests. “A long walk makes for a large appetite, yes? It is getting late, so come over to my place.”
“I feel like I haven’t eaten for days,” the man says. You and he agree to the suggestion, and you all walk to Cleopas’ nice home.
He makes a nice, albeit simple meal, some bread, and fruit, and wine. You realize how hungry you are when you smell the bread warming in the oven. The man asks you about your time in Jerusalem. He asks about your life, so interested is he that you don’t get a chance to ask him anything.
“Here we go,” Cleopas says, putting down the plates, and the goblets.
The man asks, “May I bless the meal?”
“Please,” you say, eager to eat. He says a simple, heartfelt prayer.
Then he reaches over and grabs the loaf, takes in into his strong hands, and
breaks it, tearing it into three pieces. One he puts on his plate, the other
two he hands over to you and Cleopas.
The moment your fingers touch the bread, still in his hands, it is like a blindfold falls off. It is like a candle is lit in a dark room. You look at the hand then look up, into the eyes of the man.
It is Jesus.
You recognize him. He is different, yet… yet… he definitely is Jesus, more so than before somehow.
Jesus looks back at you, a glint in his eye and smile forming on his lips, the same eyes you saw as he struggled with the cross, the same power, the same authority, though this time without the pain, filled with complete joy, complete victory. You take the bread, and look over at Cleopas, who has the same realization. The two of you exchange a look, a look of astonishment and surprise, then look back at Jesus.
Only he’s not there anymore. He’s gone, disappeared.
“We’ve been talking with Jesus, how could we not know,” Cleopas whispers.
“Didn’t our hearts feel strangely warmed these last hours,” you say, “while he was sharing with us all the wisdom, I knew it was someone wonderful… I didn’t know who.”
“We’ve got to tell the others,” Cleopas says.
“In Jerusalem?”
“In Jerusalem. Let’s go back, they have to know what we’ve seen.”
Within the hour, you and he are back on the road, going up the hill to Jerusalem. It is very, very late by the time you get back. Light is still coming out of the windows, a surprise to the both of you, and voices can be heard talking inside. Excitement fills the air. You can only imagine how excited they will be when you tell them what you saw.
You rush in with Cleopas, everyone pauses and looks at you, smiles and laughter on their faces, none more beaming than Peter himself.
“Jesus is alive,” Cleopas says. “He’s alive, we saw him, we talked with him.”
“We know,” Matthias replies, “Well, not that you saw him, we
know he’s alive. He appeared to Peter this afternoon. Peter saw him.”
You both look at Peter. He nods and smiles. Everyone laughs. He is alive. You’ve
seen him. Peter saw him. The women have talked with him. How many more witnesses are needed than this? There is no doubt, Jesus
is alive. What all the prophets have said over the centuries has
come true. Your life and soul are renewed with joy. Thoughts of home disappear
with the thoughts of what is to come.
PraiseJesus, you are alive! You were dead and now you live! Even when I doubt you are still alive, even when I think you are gone, you are still here beside me. Your promises are true, hope in you is worthwhile. My own fears and concerns do not change the fact you still live and have overcome. May I feel the hope of your life, remember your promises, and trust that all you have begun will bring me joy for eternity. Thank you for your life and your life in me.