Living the Good News: In Breaking Bread

Two of them were on their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus when they met Jesus. It sounds like the set up of a joke – so much that we might skip right over it without any thought to get to the meat of the story. But let’s pause here and get oriented. It is the day of resurrection. This encounter happens on the 3^rd day, after the women have found the tomb empty. Who are these two? They are part of a group; they are two “of them.” The closest group is to which “them” could refer is the group to whom the women returned and reported that the stone was rolled away, and two men in shining clothes had appeared to them and declared that Jesus had risen, as he said he would. I can only imagine that the report was chaotic. The women had not chosen a spokesperson. They were excited (to say the least), talking fast, jumping in, talking over, trying to describe what really couldn’t be described. Luke tells us that “they” – the group of Jesus’s followers huddling together in Jerusalem –  didn’t believe the women; their words seemed like nonsense.

So, two of them decided to go to Emmaus, a 7-mile walk. One of them is named Cleopas. That’s all we know about these two. This is the only time the name Cleopas appears in Scripture; it is a Greek name. The Hebrew variant is Clopas, and we do have a Clopas mentioned in John’s Gospel. John records that “Near the cross of Jesus stood His mother and her sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.” There are all kinds of traditions about the familial relationship that might be possible between Jesus and Clopas and his wife, Mary. But with just this one mention by John, and nothing else to clarify who this Mary who was married to Clopas was, we really don’t know how or if they were related to Jesus. I do think it is interesting, though, to pause and imagine these two on the road to Emmaus. I have tended to think of them as two men walking along. I had not imagined them as husband and wife, but it is possible, that they were.

Clopas and Mary, husband and wife, walking home from Passover in Jerusalem, talking over the unexpected turns of events, sharing what the other men were talking about and what the other women had heard was going on. Perhaps Luke doesn’t name Mary because she is a woman, or perhaps Luke, who is a master storyteller, is drawing us into the story by not naming the other person on the journey, not even telling us if the other person is a man or a woman, letting us imagine ourselves there on the road with Clopas talking about all the things and trying to figure out what it all means.

Let your mind’s eye paint the picture: A man and a woman, a husband and wife, were headed home and were talking about what happened at church when a stranger approaches, matches his steps to theirs, and asks what they are talking about. Luke tells us that their faces were downcast. How could any Jewish person who had been in Jerusalem for Passover not heard?  Their hopes were dashed. They had nothing left to lose. They might as well fill him in – if he’s a spy, so be it.

There was this man, Jesus, from Nazareth like the prophecy said the Messiah would be, and he was powerful – he could teach and heal. We had hoped he would be the one to redeem Israel, finally free us. Then, this morning his tomb was empty and his body was gone.

As they walk, the stranger explains to them how Jesus did fulfill the hopes they had celebrated at Passover, for God to once again free God’s people, how he had fulfilled the promises of the prophets. When they reach home, they invite the stranger to stay with them for the night. And when they sit down to eat, he takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them. In that moment, their eyes were opened and they recognized him.

And we get all churchy-language and say that Jesus meets us on our Emmaus roads and in the breaking of bread, in community gathered, as we study God’s Word and share meals. How, though? How is Jesus present? This is the good news that I can share. In the breaking of bread, Jesus is present. It is mystery, but not magic. When we gather in groups of two or more, talk about who Jesus is and eat together, and welcome the stranger, that we catch a glimpse of the kingdom of God and we know that Christ is with us. Tim Chester, in his book A Meal with Jesus writes, “The future of Christianity lies not in a return to the dominance of Christendom, but in small, intimate communities of light. Often they’re unseen by history. But they’re what transform neighborhoods and cities.”

Jesus meets us in worship, and we recognize him as we hear the Word and celebrate the Lord’s Supper. But that’s not the only time and place Jesus is present. It is as we seek understanding and break bread together, that Jesus is known to us:  Word and Sacrament, Bible Study and Fellowship, Conversation and Meal. And here’s the critical part: it is as we welcome the stranger into our conversation, into our walk, into our home, and invite them to stay with us, to eat with us, that we recognize Jesus is with us.

It takes practice, and it starts with little things. I’ve shared with you before my smile challenge. I try not to pass anyone without making eye contact and smiling. It might or might not brighten someone else’s day, but it changes me. It forces me to really look and see people, to see their dignity, when they try not to make eye contact, to avoid my gaze, it deepens my compassion as I imagine why – what pain they have experienced, what shame they are carrying, what fear or anger they are wrestling with – that receiving notice is painful. It is a way that I practice seeing Jesus in others – I look for it, and I try to allow him to be seen in me at the same time.

Frederick Buechner says of Jesus’s presence, “I believe that whether we recognize him or not, or believe in him or not, or even know his name, again and again he comes and walks a little way with us along whatever road we are following. And I believe that through something that happens to us, or something we see, or somebody we know, who can ever guess how or when or where? He offers us the way he did at Emmaus, the bread of life, offers us new hope, a new vision of light that not even the dark world can overcome.”

Two of them were on their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus when they met Jesus. It could be two of us, any two of us. They were just having a conversation, trying to understand what was going on, what God was up to and how Jesus fit into it, asking what could it all mean? What should they do next? It is when we have those conversations, that Jesus comes and is present in our conversation. It is then that we study Scripture and understand what it means for us. And we start living differently. The two of them, arriving home, invite the stranger in. I wonder what their first instinct was on the road when this guy caught up to them and started matching their pace. Now that they have shared conversation about God’s Word together, they get home, and instead of letting him know “it’s been nice.” Instead of shaking hands, or shaking him off, they invite him to come stay with them. They are open to him. They want to host him. That’s what happens to us when we spend time in Bible study, in conversation about who Jesus is and what that means for us. Then, they sit down together at the table, and he takes bread, gives thanks, breaks the bread, and gives it to them, and their eyes were opened and they recognized him. May it be so for us.