ON THE ROAD

Yesterday’s reading was the story about Cleopas and his friend walking to Emmaus from Jerusalem. The Hebrew name of Emmaus was Hammat, which means Warm Springs; it lay about 7 miles NW of the city, 2-3 hours on foot. The two are referred to as “disciples” of Jesus, which reminds us that the Twelve were not the only ones to be known as such. Deeply depressed, they can’t stop talking about the horrors of the last few days.

Then, as happens on foot journeys in a pre-mechanized world, another traveller joins them, and they walk on together. He wants to know what they are so depressed about. “Hey,” they say, “Where have you been, man? Are you the only one who hasn’t heard?” “No, what?” he replies. And they tell him. “There was this great prophet, Jesus of Nazareth. He was awesome: all he said and did, you wouldn’t believe. A real prophet, and a major one. We all thought he was going to liberate Israel. And then the chief priests and co. had him crucified!”

“Really?” says their new companion. “Yes; and this is where it goes from horrible to weird. Some of the women in our crowd went to the tomb; they found it open and empty, with a couple of angels sitting on the stone. And the angels told them He was alive. So some of our men went there to check up on this women’s tale; and they found it just as the women had said, minus the angels: tomb open, tomb empty, no Jesus.”

“OK,” says the newcomer. “I know how you feel; but you guys have it all wrong.” So he starts talking, like a good learned Jew, beginning with Moses, and doubtless spending a good deal of time on Isaiah; and for an hour or more he explains how the Meshiach was supposed to go through all this, and suffer, and die, precisely in order to liberate, not only Israel but everyone.

Boy, are they impressed. This man really knows his stuff; and when they hear it explained like that, they begin to have an inkling that maybe what happened was not simply the horror and the weirdness. Meanwhile, they’ve reached Warm Springs, and it’s getting dark. “Hey, stay and have dinner with us,” they say. Well, he demurs a bit, but in the end they persuade him. So they sit down, and as he is clearly a rabbi, they ask him to say the blessing. So he takes the bread and breaks it, and begins “Baruch atta Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam hamotzi lehem min ha'aretz.....”

OMG. (Literally.) They have heard that voice before. And suddenly they see him with new eyes, and realize it’s Him. And ---- and then He vanishes, and there are just the two of them at table, with the bread and the wine and the rest of the meal. And they look at each other the way people do, and say “I knew it. I knew it. Remember how thrilling it was when He explained it all? Didn’t our hearts burn within us?”

Dr Luke does not relate what happened to Cleopas and his friend afterwards; but I can think of few ordinary blokes in history I’m more inclined to be jealous of.

The images are by Rembrandt.