Emmaus Epiphany

He’s gone. It’s a forever thing. We’re not merely disappointed.

We’re numbed to the core. Traumatised. Truly lost the will to live.

On Friday we saw him tortured and crucified: our saviour, our friend.

That was it.

We had hoped… Oh, what does it matter now? We had hoped so much,

That he would save the world. Truly believed he would.

So we’ve left Jerusalem behind, kicked the dust off our feet,

And we’re headed home with slow, laborious, lingering steps to Emmaus.

Not that home will comfort or energise; it’s just another place to lay our heads.

A stranger joined us on the road, as so often happens.

He asked about our sadness – could clearly see it in our faces, in the way we walked.

Really, he didn’t know? How could anyone not know?

He chatted away. Perhaps he thought to ease our pain.

But he knew the Scriptures and spoke of the Messiah.

What Messiah? A dead dream now, crumbled in the dust.

We had hoped…

We arrived home as the sun was setting

And, as custom warrants, invited him to share a meal with us.

He was a stranger, a friendly stranger, that was all.

But something happened as he took the bread, blessed it and ripped it apart,

Giving us a piece each.

The guest became the host – and it was as if scales fell off our eyes –

We saw him for who he was. Jesus, the Messiah, who we had left for dead in Jerusalem,

Who had walked beside us on the road, now risen from the dead.

He broke the bread and gave us back our lives. The shattering is not an ending.

It is the path to new life and new love.

And as soon as we saw and knew this truth in our hearts, he vanished from our sight.

So we left the dirty dishes, just as they were.

And though it was dark, we headed back to Jerusalem,

This time, running, with new energy, to tell the others.

untangling the web