Week 2
On the Road Uncertain
Part 1: Scripture
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke (24:13-26)
(New American Bible translation with footnotes, copied to here from USCCB Books of the Bible https://bible.usccb.org/bible/luke/24)
(New American Bible translation with footnotes, copied to here from USCCB Books of the Bible https://bible.usccb.org/bible/luke/24)
The Appearance on the Road to Emmaus.*
13 Now that very day two of them were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus,i
14 and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.
15 And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,
16 but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
17 He asked them, “What are you discussing as you walk along?” They stopped, looking downcast.
18 One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?”
19 And he replied to them, “What sort of things?” They said to him, “The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,
20 how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over to a sentence of death and crucified him.
21 But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel; and besides all this, it is now the third day since this took place.
22 Some women from our group, however, have astounded us: they were at the tomb early in the morning
23 and did not find his body; they came back and reported that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who announced that he was alive.
24 Then some of those with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women had described, but him they did not see.”
25 And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?”
13 Now that very day two of them were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus,i
14 and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.
15 And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,
16 but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
17 He asked them, “What are you discussing as you walk along?” They stopped, looking downcast.
18 One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?”
19 And he replied to them, “What sort of things?” They said to him, “The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,
20 how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over to a sentence of death and crucified him.
21 But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel; and besides all this, it is now the third day since this took place.
22 Some women from our group, however, have astounded us: they were at the tomb early in the morning
23 and did not find his body; they came back and reported that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who announced that he was alive.
24 Then some of those with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women had described, but him they did not see.”
25 And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?”
* [24:13–35] This episode focuses on the interpretation of scripture by the risen Jesus and the recognition of him in the breaking of the bread. The references to the quotations of scripture and explanation of it (Lk 24:25–27), the kerygmatic proclamation (Lk 24:34), and the liturgical gesture (Lk 24:30) suggest that the episode is primarily catechetical and liturgical rather than apologetic.
* [24:13] Seven miles: literally, “sixty stades.” A stade was 607 feet. Some manuscripts read “160 stades” or more than eighteen miles. The exact location of Emmaus is disputed.
* [24:16] A consistent feature of the resurrection stories is that the risen Jesus was different and initially unrecognizable (Lk 24:37; Mk 16:12; Jn 20:14; 21:4).
* [24:26] That the Messiah should suffer…: Luke is the only New Testament writer to speak explicitly of a suffering Messiah (Lk 24:26, 46; Acts 3:18; 17:3; 26:23). The idea of a suffering Messiah is not found in the Old Testament or in other Jewish literature prior to the New Testament period, although the idea is hinted at in Mk 8:31–33. See notes on Mt 26:63 and 26:67–68.
* [24:13] Seven miles: literally, “sixty stades.” A stade was 607 feet. Some manuscripts read “160 stades” or more than eighteen miles. The exact location of Emmaus is disputed.
* [24:16] A consistent feature of the resurrection stories is that the risen Jesus was different and initially unrecognizable (Lk 24:37; Mk 16:12; Jn 20:14; 21:4).
* [24:26] That the Messiah should suffer…: Luke is the only New Testament writer to speak explicitly of a suffering Messiah (Lk 24:26, 46; Acts 3:18; 17:3; 26:23). The idea of a suffering Messiah is not found in the Old Testament or in other Jewish literature prior to the New Testament period, although the idea is hinted at in Mk 8:31–33. See notes on Mt 26:63 and 26:67–68.
In last week's reflection, we made reference to journey being centered on Jerusalem in the Gospel of Luke. Here we have two disciples leaving Jerusalem, without a mission, without understanding, without hope. They had heard the news of the empty tomb, but it meant nothing to them.
Henri J.M. Nouwen (1932-1996), Dutch priest and spiritual writer, examined the story of the Appearance on the Road to Emmaus in his book With Burning Hearts: A Meditation on the Eucharistic Life (NY: Orbis Books, 1994). Here are portions of his reflection on these two disciples as they leave Jerusalem:
"Two people are walking together. You can see from the way they walk that they are not happy. Their bodies are bent over, their faces are downcast, their movements slow.... Although they follow the path on which they walk, they seem to have no goal. They return to their home, but their home is no longer home. They simply have no other place to go....
"They can hardly imagine that it was only a few years ago when they had met someone who had changed their lives, someone who had radically interrupted their daily routines and had brought a new vitality to every part of their existence. They had left their village, followed that stranger and his friends, and discovered a whole new reality hidden behind the veil of their ordinary activities -- a reality in which forgiveness, healing, and love were no longer mere words but powers touching the very core of their humanity. The stranger from Nazareth had made everything new. He had made them into people for whom the world was no longer a burden but a challenge, no longer a field of snares but a place with endless opportunities. He had brought joy and peace to their daily experience. He had made their life into a dance!
Now he is dead.... All had come to nothing. They had lost him.... They had become two lost human beings....
What do we do with our losses? That's the first question that faces us. Are we hiding thm? Are we going to live as if they weren't real? Are we going to keep them away from our fellow travelers? Are we going to convince ourselves or others that our losses are little compared to our gains? Are we going to blame someone? We do all of these things most of the time, but there is another possibility: the possibility of mourning. Yes, we must mourn our losses....
And as we feel the pain of our own losses, our grieving hearts open our inner eye to a world in which losses are suffered beyond our own little world of family, friends, and colleagues.... Then the pain of our crying connects us with the moaning and groaning of a suffering humanity. Then our mourning becomes larger than ourselves.
But in the midst of this pain, there is a strange, shocking, yet very surprising voice. It is the voice of the one who says: "Blessed are those who mourn: they shall be comforted." That's the unexpected news: there is a blessing hidden in our grief. Not those who comfort are blessed, but those who mourn!...
The question is whether our losses lead to resentment or to gratitude. Resentment is a real option. Many choose it. When we are hit by one loss after another, it is very easy to become disillusioned, angry, bitter, and increasingly resentful....
I wonder if there are any people without resentments. Resentment is such an obvious response to our many losses. The tragedy is that much resentment is hidden within the church. It is one of the most paralyzing aspects of the Christian community.
Still, the Eucharist presents another option. It is the possibility to choose, not resentment, but gratitude. Mourning our losses is the first step away from resentment and toward gratitude. The tears of our grief can soften our hardened hears and open us to the possibility to say 'thanks.'...
When the disciples walking to Emmaus told their story about their great loss, they also told the strange story about the women who had found the tomb empty and had seen angels. But they were skeptical and doubtful. Wasn't he crucified a few days ago? Hadn't everything come to an end? Hadn't evil finally won? So what about these women's tales that he was alive? Who could take that seriously? But then again, they had to say, 'Some of our friends went to the tomb and found everything exactly as the women had reported, but of him they saw nothing!"
Henri J.M. Nouwen (1932-1996), Dutch priest and spiritual writer, examined the story of the Appearance on the Road to Emmaus in his book With Burning Hearts: A Meditation on the Eucharistic Life (NY: Orbis Books, 1994). Here are portions of his reflection on these two disciples as they leave Jerusalem:
"Two people are walking together. You can see from the way they walk that they are not happy. Their bodies are bent over, their faces are downcast, their movements slow.... Although they follow the path on which they walk, they seem to have no goal. They return to their home, but their home is no longer home. They simply have no other place to go....
"They can hardly imagine that it was only a few years ago when they had met someone who had changed their lives, someone who had radically interrupted their daily routines and had brought a new vitality to every part of their existence. They had left their village, followed that stranger and his friends, and discovered a whole new reality hidden behind the veil of their ordinary activities -- a reality in which forgiveness, healing, and love were no longer mere words but powers touching the very core of their humanity. The stranger from Nazareth had made everything new. He had made them into people for whom the world was no longer a burden but a challenge, no longer a field of snares but a place with endless opportunities. He had brought joy and peace to their daily experience. He had made their life into a dance!
Now he is dead.... All had come to nothing. They had lost him.... They had become two lost human beings....
What do we do with our losses? That's the first question that faces us. Are we hiding thm? Are we going to live as if they weren't real? Are we going to keep them away from our fellow travelers? Are we going to convince ourselves or others that our losses are little compared to our gains? Are we going to blame someone? We do all of these things most of the time, but there is another possibility: the possibility of mourning. Yes, we must mourn our losses....
And as we feel the pain of our own losses, our grieving hearts open our inner eye to a world in which losses are suffered beyond our own little world of family, friends, and colleagues.... Then the pain of our crying connects us with the moaning and groaning of a suffering humanity. Then our mourning becomes larger than ourselves.
But in the midst of this pain, there is a strange, shocking, yet very surprising voice. It is the voice of the one who says: "Blessed are those who mourn: they shall be comforted." That's the unexpected news: there is a blessing hidden in our grief. Not those who comfort are blessed, but those who mourn!...
The question is whether our losses lead to resentment or to gratitude. Resentment is a real option. Many choose it. When we are hit by one loss after another, it is very easy to become disillusioned, angry, bitter, and increasingly resentful....
I wonder if there are any people without resentments. Resentment is such an obvious response to our many losses. The tragedy is that much resentment is hidden within the church. It is one of the most paralyzing aspects of the Christian community.
Still, the Eucharist presents another option. It is the possibility to choose, not resentment, but gratitude. Mourning our losses is the first step away from resentment and toward gratitude. The tears of our grief can soften our hardened hears and open us to the possibility to say 'thanks.'...
When the disciples walking to Emmaus told their story about their great loss, they also told the strange story about the women who had found the tomb empty and had seen angels. But they were skeptical and doubtful. Wasn't he crucified a few days ago? Hadn't everything come to an end? Hadn't evil finally won? So what about these women's tales that he was alive? Who could take that seriously? But then again, they had to say, 'Some of our friends went to the tomb and found everything exactly as the women had reported, but of him they saw nothing!"
REFLECTION:
How have you experienced the Beatitude "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted (Matthew 5:4)" in your parish or school community?
How have you helped your learners who have experienced confusion or doubt or lack of understanding in faith matters or in the endurance of the past year?
How have you experienced the Beatitude "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted (Matthew 5:4)" in your parish or school community?
How have you helped your learners who have experienced confusion or doubt or lack of understanding in faith matters or in the endurance of the past year?
Part 2: A Life of Journeys
Thomas Merton
Thomas Merton (1915-1968) was one of the most inflential spiritual writers of the 20th century. When Pope Francis visited America in 2015, he addressed the United States Congress, using the opportunity to spotlight four Americans who were able to build "a better future:" Abraham Lincoln, Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Thomas Merton.
Merton was born in 1915. His mother died when he was 6, his father when he was 16. His early life was tumultuous and full of movement. From his birth until he was 20, he lived in France, the USA, Bermuda, and England, before settling finally in America. He entered the Catholic Church in 1938 and the Trappist Order in 1941. He was a monk, priest, writer, and seeker of peace.
Merton was born in 1915. His mother died when he was 6, his father when he was 16. His early life was tumultuous and full of movement. From his birth until he was 20, he lived in France, the USA, Bermuda, and England, before settling finally in America. He entered the Catholic Church in 1938 and the Trappist Order in 1941. He was a monk, priest, writer, and seeker of peace.
Set aside 12 minutes in which you can concentrate in quiet on this video. Notice his words when speaking of loss. Notice also his embrace of accompaniment on life's journey. Watch this video "On the Road with Thomas Merton" on Youtube by clicking on this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GL6eNmGxnbQ
REFLECTION:
Merton says that God utters us like a word containing a partial thought of himself. What thoughts of God do you hope to speak through your life or your teaching?
Merton suggests that our faith journeys take us from the secure to the insecure, that God calls us to follow him into the unknown. Have you experienced a time when you felt you were being led to the unknown, either professionally or personally? Is it easy or difficult for you to move away from security?
Merton says that God utters us like a word containing a partial thought of himself. What thoughts of God do you hope to speak through your life or your teaching?
Merton suggests that our faith journeys take us from the secure to the insecure, that God calls us to follow him into the unknown. Have you experienced a time when you felt you were being led to the unknown, either professionally or personally? Is it easy or difficult for you to move away from security?