Overview:

Wednesday in the Octave of Easter

A Reflection for Wednesday in the Octave of Easter

That very day, the first day of the week,
two of Jesus’ disciples were going
to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus,
and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.
And it happened that while they were conversing and debating,
Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,
but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
He asked them,
“What are you discussing as you walk along?”
They stopped, looking downcast.
One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply,
“Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem
who does not know of the things
that have taken place there in these days?”
And he replied to them, “What sort of things?”
They said to him,
“The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene,
who was a prophet mighty in deed and word
before God and all the people,
how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over
to a sentence of death and crucified him.
But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel;
and besides all this,
it is now the third day since this took place.
Some women from our group, however, have astounded us:
they were at the tomb early in the morning
and did not find his Body;
they came back and reported
that they had indeed seen a vision of angels
who announced that he was alive.
Then some of those with us went to the tomb
and found things just as the women had described,
but him they did not see.”
And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are!
How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
and enter into his glory?”
Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets,
he interpreted to them what referred to him
in all the Scriptures. (Lk 24:13-30). 

Find today’s readings here.

“We had hoped.”

These words spoken by the two disciples to Jesus on the road to Emmaus (rendered in this translation as “but we were hoping”) are by my reckoning some of the most haunting in the Gospels. That they occur in the context of a passage where the disciples are overjoyed to discover the risen Jesus among them can make it easy to miss the emotional import of the phrase, which becomes more clear if we put ourselves in the position of the two before they recognize Jesus.

What had they hoped? That Jesus would be the one to redeem Israel, yes, but that is more than a programmatic statement or a cliché. Their plight is not just that their religious and cultural desire for a messiah has been frustrated, but that the actual physical human being on whom they had placed this thrilling expectation has come to a shocking and humiliating end. Moreover, Jesus was not some faraway hero whose deeds had reached their ears: Jesus was their friend and leader, a person whom they loved and cherished.

When Jesus encounters the two, they are “conversing about all the things that had occurred.” It is probably safe to say that it is a dark and desolate conversation. Even the reports from their female friends that something astonishing has happened with regard to Jesus do not seem to have buoyed their spirits. How much of their world and their worldview had been destroyed in the previous few days? 

Few of us (one hopes) ever deal with a trauma so devastating as what the disciples faced in the crucifixion of Jesus, but probably all of us have some inkling of what it is like to be excited about a friend, a situation, a relationship, a promising opportunity for something new in life and then have our hopes dashed. “We had hoped,” all of us, at one point or another, say. We see it elsewhere in the Gospels, too—people hope Jesus will heal their dying friend, mothers hope Jesus will cure a child, a leper or an invalid cries out for Jesus’ help. Remember Mary and Martha, when Jesus first arrives at the home of Lazarus? They are glad to see Jesus, but also in despair—because they had hoped, and their hope had seemingly been for naught. 

In that circumstance, Jesus confounds their every expectation by raising Lazarus from the dead—a miraculous intervention. Not so with the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Instead, their hope is restored when, in the breaking of the bread, their eyes are opened and they understand the new reality in which they live: Jesus Christ resurrected and with them in the flesh. 

What if we asked for that when we feel like we have hoped in vain? Not for a miracle, not for a change in our reality, but for our eyes to be opened so that we might see the truth? We all want a miracle now and then, but we also want and need to have our eyes opened to the reality of Jesus Christ resurrected in this Easter season and always.

James T. Keane is a Senior Editor at America.