Luke 24:13-35
Easter 3 / Year A
Two of Jesus’s followers decide to leave Jerusalem on
the day it is discerned Jesus’ body is no longer in the tomb where it had been
interred. One is identified as Cleopas,
a disciple who appears nowhere else in the gospels. Some traditions hold he is the brother of
Joseph the carpenter. It is possible the
other disciple is Mary, who is identified in John’s gospel as the wife of
Clopas (a slightly different spelling, but within the realm of
possibility). There are a lot of women
named Mary mentioned in and around the events the Resurrection and there are a
lot of “other” – unnamed – women in the text as well. So, if the second disciple on the way to
Emmaus is Mary the wife of Clopas, it is possible she had gone to the tomb at
the break of dawn with the other women and found it empty. This, of course is conjecture.
Now, if you find that interesting, you love this pure
speculation. James Tabor, who teaches
religious studies at U.N.C.–Charlotte, picks up on the tradition Cleopas is
Joseph’s brother. Most scholars assume
Joseph dies sometime before Jesus launches his public ministry because he never
appears in any of the gospels after Jesus is a boy. Tabor takes this possibility and combines it
with the Jewish custom of having a bother of the deceased marry the widow, and
posits Mary, the wife of Clopas, is also Mary, the mother of Jesus. (I’ll never get you attention back as you
ponder that one!)
So, back to the morning of the Resurrection. Luke tells us Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary
the mother of James (by the way, Jesus had a brother named James), and the
other the women go to the tomb and find it empty. An angel appears to them and tells them Jesus
is risen. They go and report this to the
men. Simon Peter rushes to the tomb,
looks around, but doesn’t find anything.
Though not reported, it is possible Cleopas joins him in this inspection. After all of this Cleopas and his companion
(most likely his wife, possibly Jesus’ mother) make the decision to leave
town. Hopeful people don’t leave town.
Along the way they are talking about all that has
happened. The Greek word for talking
infers they are “examining the evidence”.
They are trying to make sense of all that has happened when they are
joined on the way by a stranger. It is
Jesus, but they do not recognize him. He
asks what they are talking about and they go through the details with him.
At one point Cleopas admits “we had hoped Jesus was
going to be the one who would redeem Israel.”
The verb here – had hoped – is in the present imperfect
tense. It means something had happened
repeatedly in the past but is no longer happening in the present.
Think about all the different ways we might use the
verb hope in the present imperfect:
· We had hoped this job opportunity might really turn
into something.
· We had hoped the entire family could be together last
Christmas.
· We had hoped to be retired by now.
· We had hoped there would be no more senseless mass
shootings.
· We had hoped he could stay off drugs after the last
rehab stint.
· We had hoped this doctor’s special treatment would put
the cancer in remission.
Each of these statements indicates something of a
flicker of light in the darkness has been extinguished and now it is just
dark. If you have ever experienced
something like this then you know exactly how Cleopas and Mary feel in this
reading. The sun has set on their hopes
and there is, for them, no possibility of a future dawn. All they can do now is walk to Emmaus and try
to make sense of it all.
Alexander Pope once said, “Blessed is the person who
has no expectations because he will never be disappointed.” I guess the most jaded among us can live this
way, but most of us possess within our soul an enduring sense of hope. We know things will not always work out
exactly the way we would like, but we most often sense they work out for the
best. But there are crushing moments
which try and test us to the core; the “we had hoped” moments when our dreams
come crashing down and can no longer carry us forward.
From the beginning of this story, Luke gives us some
inside information Cleopas and Mary do not have. He tells us the stranger is Jesus and
throughout we expect a big reveal is coming.
Many great artists have painted the moment when the two disciples first
realize Jesus is with them. Diego Velazques’
painting of a kitchen maid is notable.
It depicts a woman tending to pots and jars and in of its own rights is
a masterpiece. Only after restoration
was it discovered in the left-hand corner of the painting three people are
sitting at table. The maid catches a
glimpse of the scene in the reflection of a kettle and discerns before two of
the guests the third person is the Risen Lord.
This discovery of this detail changed the entire meaning of the work and
put into context the reaction on the maid’s startled face.
It is terribly significant Luke tells us this
recognition comes through a Eucharistic moment.
Only then are they fully able to reflect back on the bible study Jesus
led them through as they were walking. I
don’t believe it restores their hope to what it was before. I think it transforms their hope in light of
a new reality: Jesus is risen and he is with us to the end.
Paulo Coelho writes about this transformation in his
book By the River Piedra I Sat Down and
Wept:
“Joy is sometimes a blessing, but it is often a
conquest. Our magic moments help us to
change and sends us off in search of our dreams. Yes, we are going to suffer, we will have
difficult times, and we will experience many disappointments — but all of this
is transitory it leaves no permanent mark. And one day we will look back with pride and
faith at the journey we have taken.”
There is something about the experiences
of loss and resurrection which transforms us from “we had hoped” to “we now believe.” We gain insight and wisdom and translate it
into a sense of peace and joy. And it is
all made possible as we experience Jesus’ victory every time we break bread.
