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Luke 24:13-35 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

¹³ Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, ¹⁴ and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. ¹⁵ While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, ¹⁶ but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. ¹⁷ And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. ¹⁸ Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” ¹⁹ He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, ²⁰ and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. ²¹ But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. ²² Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, ²³ and when they did not find his body there they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. ²⁴ Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see him.” ²⁵ Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! ²⁶ Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” ²⁷ Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

²⁸ As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. ²⁹ But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. ³⁰ When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. ³¹ Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him, and he vanished from their sight. ³² They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” ³³ That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem, and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. ³⁴ They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” ³⁵ Then they told what had happened on the road and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

We celebrated Easter two weeks ago, but our scripture this morning is still situated later that same day over two thousand years ago. Two disciples trudge a dusty road toward Emmaus weighed down by their grief. Their hopes have been shattered. The one they believed would redeem Israel has been executed. To make matters worse, there are reports that someone has stolen his body, which adds anger and confusion to their grief and sorrow. They are talking as they walk home, processing the recent events, trying to make sense of what has happened.

And then – Jesus joins them on the road. But they do not recognize him. 

We have all been there. It is not a matter of if, but when. We have walked a road of disappointment, disillusionment, and grief. So let us ask: When has our grief kept us from recognizing the truth of a situation? Grief narrows our vision. It clouds our perception. The sorrow these disciples are experiencing has made them unable to see what is right in front of them.

How often does that happen to us? How often is Jesus with us and we do not know it? Well… We don’t know what we don’t know. But I suspect Jesus is right beside us more often than we realize.

Because Christ does not always appear in the forms we expect. Sometimes Christ shows up as a stranger asking a question. Sometimes as a presence that walks beside us in our grief. Sometimes as a fellow traveler needing hospitality.

Perhaps we are mired in the morass of pain and sorrow right now. Who is walking beside us that we do not truly see? Do not lose hope. This is where the story turns toward us – not just as individuals, but as a community. We ourselves need to be seen. And we need to see others for who they truly are. Who have we overlooked? Who have we misunderstood? Who have we reduced to assumptions rather than encountered as sacred human beings? 

This Road to Emmaus experience suggests something radical: We may be missing Christ not because Christ is absent – but because we are not recognizing Christ in one another.

A turning point for these travelers comes when they invite the stranger in: “Stay with us.” That is when everything changes. When we intentionally invite the stranger into our midst… When we extend hospitality… something sacred happens. 

I will take this opportunity to wonder out loud: What is something that we need to unlearn – something that keeps us from perceiving God right in front of us?

Maybe it is the idea that God only speaks through certain people. Or that holiness belongs only in certain spaces. Or that difference is something to fear rather than encounter and embrace. Unlearning will be part of our cultural resurrection. Because sometimes what keeps us from seeing Christ is not a lack of faith – but the ways in which we have learned to view the world.

Let us look at the movement of this passage:

• Two people are walking – and processing their grief together 

• Jesus joins them – but they do not recognize him 

• They share their story – which is honest, and raw, and still evolving 

• The scriptures are opened to them – and their hearts begin to burn with knowing

• They offer hospitality – with the simple words, “Stay with us” 

• Bread is broken – and then their eyes are opened 

• Christ vanishes – but his presence remains 

• They return to Jerusalem – transformed, bearing witness to what they have seen and heard and are now beginning to believe

  
  

This is not just a story about the past. This story is also for our time and for every time. 

There is also something beautifully subversive here: The risen Christ does not appear to the powerful in the center of the city. He appears on the margins. On the road. To ordinary people – one of whom isn’t even named. It is as if the story is leaving space for us. Perhaps we are the unnamed disciple. Yes, this story is for us. This story is an invitation. An invitation to join the sacred choreography of love, which enables us to:

• Believe beyond what our eyes immediately see 

• Trust the fire that burns in our hearts 

• Walk beside one another in honesty 

• Listen deeply to each other’s stories 

• Extend hospitality to those we meet along the way 

  
  

Luke’s gospel tells us that, “They recognized him in the breaking of the bread.” 

A deeper question for us to wonder: Is it about the bread – or is it about the breaking?

When we are broken we are vulnerable, we are open, we are in need. And this is when Christ becomes visible to us.

Frustratingly, when they finally recognize Jesus – he disappears. Why? Perhaps the point is to not cling to a single visible form… but to learn to recognize Christ everywhere:

• In our Black and Brown and Indigenous neighbors here and around the world

• In the neighbor, co-worker, or church member with a different political view point

• In our Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Trans, Queer, and Questioning siblings

• In the sharing of stories and cultures and experiences

• In acts of justice and liberation

So the questions we carry forward are not only:

Where is Jesus? But: Where are we? And who are we walking with? 

• Are we open enough to see Christ in unexpected people and places?

• Are we courageous enough to invite the stranger in to our hearts and our lives?

• Are we willing to unlearn what blinds us?

• Are we making space for the sacred in one another?

  
  

Because resurrection is not just something that happened. It is something that is happening. That must keep happening. In towns like ours. In conversations like ours. At tables like ours. We must make space for all people to rise up to their full potential.

May we be a community that walks together honestly. That listens deeply. That welcomes boldly. That breaks bread graciously.

And may our eyes be opened – not just to see Christ – but to see Christ in all others. 

I will close with a poem / prayer written by Jan Richardson, specifically for this scripture. 

Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.—Luke 24:31

She writes, “I am thinking about the Emmaus story that comes to us on the third Sunday in this season of resurrection. I am so grateful for how Christ meets us in the breaking of bread, and how, even (and sometimes especially) in our deepest losses, a table can become a holy place that invites us to recognize him in each other. So today, in whatever hope or hurt or hunger you carry, this blessing is for you.”

Table Blessing

To your table

you bid us come.

You have set the places;

you have poured the wine;

and there is always room,

you say,

for one more.

And so we come.

From the streets

and from the alleys

we come.

From the deserts

and from the hills

we come.

From the ravages of poverty

and from the palaces of privilege

we come.

Running,

limping,

carried,

we come.

We are bloodied with our wars;

we are wearied with our wounds;

we carry our dead within us,

and we reckon with their ghosts.

We hold the seeds of healing;

we dream of a new creation;

we know the things

that make for peace,

and we struggle

to give them wings.

And yet, to your table

we come.

Hungering for your bread,

we come;

thirsting for your wine,

we come;

singing your song

in every language,

speaking your name

in every tongue,

in conflict and in communion,

in discord and in desire,

we come,

O God of Wisdom,

we come.

—Jan Richardson

from How the Stars Get in Your Bones: A Book of Blessings

Amen

Rev. TJ Mack – April 19, 2026