On the Way to Emmaus

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The Bible never tells the best parts of the story, I often complain. What did Jesus write in the dust when the scribes and the Pharisees brought forth the woman caught in adultery? What did Jesus, Moses and Elijah talk about during the Transfiguration? What did he teach the two disciples on the way to Emmaus?

I may finally have the answer to this last question, at least by inference. In the second book of Pope Benedict XVI’s three-part Jesus of Nazareth, he explains that “At first, Jesus’ death on the Cross had simply been an inexplicable fact that placed his entire message and his whole figure in question” but “In the light of the Resurrection, in the light of this new gift of journeying alongside the Lord, Christ’s followers had to learn to read the Old Testament afresh …”

As St. Luke tells the story of the Road to Emmaus, Jesus takes the disciples to task for being “slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! … Then, beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the scriptures.”

Benedict, then, says, “What we find concisely expressed in Jesus’ great dialogue with the two disciples is the process of searching and maturing that was to take place in the infant Church;” the facts of Jesus’ death and resurrection “paved the way toward a fresh understanding of Scripture.”

So it’s not hard to extrapolate that the instruction the disciples received as they walked unknowingly along with the Lord was passed on to the others, and from there arose the teachings of the Church. We don’t have the exact words of Jesus on that dusty road, but as Benedict writes, “What the risen Lord taught the disciples on the road to Emmaus now becomes the basic method for understanding the figure of Jesus: everything that happened to him is fulfillment of the ‘Scriptures.’ Only on the basis of the ‘Scriptures,’ the Old Testament, can he be understood at all.”

This satisfied me intellectually, but then on Sunday at the Cathedral of the Madeleine came Fr. Dominic Sternhagen’s homily, in which he pointed out that the disciples walking along with Jesus didn’t know him despite his inspired teaching. It wasn’t until they were at table, with the breaking of the bread, “that their eyes were opened and they recognized him,” as the Bible says.

Myself, I feel like I haven’t yet got to the table. I’ve been studying the faith intensely these past few years, and while I’ve grown immensely intellectually, I can’t say that I’ve often encountered God along the way. I’ve learned what Jesus said, but even though I partake of the Eucharist I usually don’t feel table fellowship.  

In his homily, Fr. Sternhagen said that in that room there at Emmaus, Jesus “was taken from their sight, but he wasn’t gone because he entered into their hearts and they had him within; they became temples of his peace. And that is the presence of Christ that remains.”

What I wouldn’t give to have the peace of Christ – the peace that allows martyrs to calmly accept their fate, that gives those whom I admire the ability to cheerfully faces life’s tribulations. This peace isn’t found in books and studying, at least not that I’ve been able to discover. Nevertheless, I continue to walk that dusty road, listening to the interpretation of the scriptures and feeling forsaken and foolish. So I found comfort in the brief discussion I had with Fr. Sternhagen after the Mass. He assured me that Jesus “will walk with us as long as it takes until we are able at last to say to him ‘Stay with us, for night draws close’ (as the disciples said at Emmaus) and then he will come in and remain with us.”

So this, then, is my prayer: “Stay with me, Lord, for night draws near.”

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic. Reach her at marie@icatholic.org.