I Have Seen Jesus

Luke 24:13-35

For many Sundays now, stretching back into Lent, excluding Palm Sunday, we’ve been hearing stories of Jesus which come from the Gospel of John. On Easter Sunday we heard of Mary Magdelene’s encounter with the risen Jesus right outside His tomb. Last week, on that same resurrection day, the disciples gathered in an upper room where Jesus appeared to them. 

Today’s Gospel comes from another source, from Luke, and we are told, that very day, the first day of the week, two of the disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. Again, it is the day of the resurrection, but despite the day being the same, compared to John’s Gospel, the focus of the stories is different. Our Easter Gospel spoke of Jesus’ closest and dearest friends, as did His appearances in the upper room. All these people had worked side by side with Him, and loved Him deeply.

The resurrection appearance in today's Gospel reading is a story intended for those of us who were not in the inner circle of Jesus’ followers. This resurrection appearance involves ordinary Christians like us, people who were part of the ministry, people who were Jesus’ followers, but who played minor roles and who were not always mentioned by name. The two people involved in this report are so obscure that we know nearly nothing about either of them. Indeed, one of them isn’t even named (though some artists have depicted this unnamed person as Cleopas’ wife). These are the ordinary folks. They are people like us.

What we do know about them is that they were followers of Jesus.  We know that, shattered and confused by Jesus’ crucifixion, they were on their way to the town of Emmaus. We know that the subject of Jesus' death dominated their conversation and that they were deeply discouraged, and grief-stricken.

As they walked along, they were joined by a stranger. That was nothing out of the ordinary. Strangers often attached themselves to groups; safety in travel was no small matter. The stranger took some pains to be included in their conversation.

And He said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?"

The two travelers were stunned.  They couldn’t believe that anyone could have been in Jerusalem over the past several days, and yet not have known what had happened. And they said so.

Cleopas, answered Him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?"

The resurrected, but unrecognized, Jesus asks the appropriate questions and the two speak to him from their hearts. This was not idle conversation.  These people were in pain. They spoke of Jesus as they had come to know Him. They told this stranger the dreams they had started to dream, dreams that had seemed so real, so possible because of their life with Jesus.  "We had hoped that He was the one to redeem Israel."  We had hoped...

Nothing hurts quite so much as shattered hopes. Nothing is quite as painful as a beautiful dream of something long-desired that ends suddenly and is unfulfilled.

Jesus feels their pain, and responds with many stories. Before He is done, He has reviewed for them the scriptural foundation on which their hope for a Messiah had been built. These are stories they have heard since childhood, and they heard them clearly this time, but not fully. They hear them, but do not recognize the power behind the words they are hearing.  Because they did not hear fully, the stranger who was talking with them remained a stranger.  Indeed, He remained a stranger to them until they sat down for the evening meal.

Though the resurrection narratives are different, and from two different Gospels, they all have something in common. Neither Mary Magdalen, who knew Jesus so well and loved Him so deeply, nor His closest friends, nor His followers on the road to Emmaus, recognized their risen Lord. And, to be honest, for the most part, neither do we.

Our lives are so full.  When we are very young, we have friends, and school, and parents to listen to. When we are older, we have jobs and responsibilities, perhaps families and children that take up our time and attention. As we age, we not only have friends and families, we also have doctors’ visits, or loved ones who need us to visit them.  The lists are long and seemingly endless, and our time and attention is taken up by our lives and responsibilities. Who has time to recognize Jesus?

Mother Teresa of Calcutta said she found Jesus in every person she met. And we respond – yes, but she was and is a saint. Well - that’s one way to respond, but– here is a modern day story.

When Mother Tersa was alive and still working at the House of the Dying she’d founded in Kolkata, visitors would come both to see this famous place and for the wonderful experience of meeting her. She would warmly welcome them, but she did not explain her ministry or show them around. Instead, she’d send them right out into the midst of the work itself.

Ignorant, confused, but with open hearts, her guest or guests would of course do as she asked. For an entire day they would work beside the Sisters and attend to the needs of the dying. Then, at the end of the day, Mother Tersa would invite them back into her office. It was always the same. The faces of the visitors would be wreathed in smiles, a tear might roll down a cheek, but their hearts were filled with joy. “Mother,” they would say with awe and wonder, “I have seen Jesus. I have touched His hand and ministered to Him. I have seen Jesus.”

Every Sunday we come to church, hear the Bible lessons, and once a month receive communion. The Bible readings are stories we have heard since childhood, and each time we hear them clearly, but not fully.

Why is it that we come to church with confidence and open hearts, but still rarely recognize Jesus in our lives at any other time? And the answer is, we are not people of open hearts. By nature, we are people who are afraid, and not without reason. We live in frightening times in a somewhat frightening society, even our worries are based on our fears, be they worries personal, financial, or otherwise. Our fears are many, and as long as we are afraid we cannot open our hearts to others. We cannot recognize Jesus.

Mary Magdalen did not recognize Him. She was not only distracted by her grief, she was afraid. Under the cover of darkness, she went to weep and pray outside His tomb. The disciples were in an upper room for fear of the Jewish authorities. The travelers on the road were hurriedly leaving Jerusalem, most likely afraid of whatever the repercussions might be now that Jesus was dead. None of them immediately recognized Jesus.

Cleopas and his companion hurry homeward and invite a stranger to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; 

In your ignorance and confusion, come to church with open hearts, but then do not quickly put up your walls and close down your heart. We do not come to worship for ourselves alone. We come because we love Jesus and trust Him. In return He loves us and gives us the honour of serving Him and of finding Him in each person we meet.

Do not look at the world with fear. Do not see enemies in strangers.  You have been given the grace to do otherwise. Touch with love the hands and hearts and lives that reach out to you, fully understand, and experience the joy of knowing that you have ministered to Him, you have touched His hand, you have seen Jesus.

Let us pray:

Lord Jesus, grant us the grace and the courage to know You and recognize You always, everywhere, and in each person we meet. We ask for Your love and mercy’s sake. Amen.