The story of ‘the two’ whom the risen Christ encounters on the journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus is a parable of how Christians, always wounded and mostly lukewarm, can be touched by a new zeal to fulfil its principle duty: witnessing the Gospel.
The story suggests that a privileged space is opened up between “the two… talking with each other about all these things that had happened”. Often, we feel the need ‘to talk’ about our heavy heart, but resist out of shame, doubt, or because nobody is willing to listen.
The struggles of many increase through isolation: loneliness of the elderly; the seclusion of a generation growing on social media; the emptiness of those who crave intimacy but are overwhelmed with ‘work’ and ‘busy-ness’. We grow into a “culture of indifference” to barricade our wounded souls.
In contrast, Pope Francis calls for a “culture of encounter” evident in the actions of the risen Christ. Out of nowhere, he came near them while they were engaged in animated conversation. He asked why they were distressed. He let them express themselves in words of their own choosing… even if they fell short or missed the point about who he truly was.
Allowing them ‘to talk’ is not about the ‘correctness’ of their theology. It is about the ‘foolishness’ that burdens them. From their own telling of the story, he heals their ‘remembering’ with the truth of salvation history. In their very misery, he reveals how God heals every misery in all time.
Their fear and sorrow at his death becomes their deepest joy. Likewise, in our death, in our valley of tears, when we descend in the torment of hell, Christ descends with us and transforms the tears of despair into tears of joy.
But unlike the women at the tomb whose hearts remained focused on Jesus and his suffering, ‘the two’ are more like us: “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” The disappointment is all ours. “He is gone now,” we almost hear unspoken, “and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place.”
“Why did we ever believe in him?” The innocent victim disappears from their consciousness. They have become the victims in their own eyes. And it is the echo of the Passover meal, when the lamb without blemish is slaughtered, that must now liberate them through ‘opening their eyes’.
Eating together is the quintessential social activity. That ‘togetherness’ in vulnerability dents our self-referentiality. The story of Emmaus reveals that those whom Christ seeks to claim as his own, do not even have to gather in his name. Rather, it is the very desire of eating and being together, especially in our deepest sorrow, that is the seed that he breaks open to unleash power that heals.
The blessing of the bread gives new eyes to see and dawns the awareness of how in his presence, “our hearts were burning within us”. The burdened, but open heart, experiences Christ’s salvation and is transformed. Still, as “their eyes were opened, and they recognised him… he vanished from their sight”. Christ’s joy cannot be experienced by ‘clinging’ to our expectations of him, to our misperceptions of him. We know him in his absence as he is vitally present in the love that burns in our hearts.
Just as he reveals himself as eternally present, so he “withdraws from them” to return to the Father. In his withdrawal and absence, the one whom the “Father promised” descends, bonding the ecclesia: those who ‘remember’ and ‘proclaim’. There’s no Church without the Spirit and no Spirit that doesn’t blow where He wills, spreading the Church to the peripheries.
Pope Francis’s image is most evocative: Christ does not knock at our doors to enter our heart. He desires to break out of the confines of our institutional practices that have turned the Gospel into ‘a product’, evangelisation into ‘a marketing strategy’, the ecstatic joy of worship into ‘a function’.
The Spirit always breaks out, and as the Spirit breaks out, so the Church evangelises by discerning His presence with utmost fidelity.
Nadia Delicata is a senior lecturer in moral theology and episcopal delegate for evangelisation.