An Encounter With Jesus
The afternoon was bright with the coming of spring. Blossoming pomegranate trees and wayside flowers lining the dusty roads leading to Emmaus bore witness of the forgotten winter rains. The muddy landscape had all but disappeared. Once again the way was marked with greenery. Grass grew high and was sprinkled with red poppies as far as the eyes could see. There came two men walking along the path. Like approaching storm clouds they drew near, their faces dark and gloomy and veiled in tears. Jesus stood behind a sycamore tree watching them. He need not think twice about whom they were, these two disciples, dear companions of the brotherhood. Such sadness Jesus thought should not be allowed on such a glorious day. But how should he appear to them? He could just spring out from his hiding place beyond the sycamore tree. He imagined the round face of the heavier man Cleopas pale with shock, as he trembled and steadied himself against his much taller leaner friend.
“Oh my!” Cleopas would gasp and remove his headscarf and dab his sweating forehead, “Ohhhh my!”
Even as Jesus stifled a laugh listening for the voice of Abba a plan came into being. Together Father and Son thought of another approach, still whimsical but not quite as alarming. Gathering his long black hair behind his neck and then wrapping it in a turban, he placed yet another veil over the wrap. His sleeves were long enough to hide his wounds. Ah… a walking stick would make a good prop. He snatched a decent one from the ground. The size and fit was perfect. The two disciples would never suspect him! His radiant glory subdued and disguised beneath rough homespun, he waited a moment longer and then sprang into step behind them.
“May I ask,” said Jesus in his best Aramaic, peering between their shoulders, which was somewhat difficult a task considering the remarkable height distinction between the two men, “What is this you are discussing so intently as you walk along?”
They just stood there and then turned and faced him. Jesus could see the hopeless despair in eyes guarded by dark circles and clouded by worry. Clearly no comfort had come to these men. Not even the comfort of sleep.
The men had been speaking in Greek. Cleopas returned Jesus’ question in Aramaic, the language of the Galileans, the common people.
“Are you the only one in Jerusalem who hasn’t heard what’s happened the last few days?”
Jesus would have smiled had the two disciples not have been so overwhelmed with sadness. His tone was compassioned when he answered,
“What has happened?”
He understood his death had dashed their hope to pieces but he desired the men to tell him about the despair, the feelings of abandonment. Always the listener, he leaned on his staff waiting.
“The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene,” Cleopas replied. He glanced at his friend wanting his support but the other man only shook his head as fresh tears stood in his eyes.
Cleopas groaned throwing up his arms. “He proved he was a great prophet by the things he said and did in the sight of God and all the people!”
Jesus nodded and with a gesture that meant “tell me more,” he coaxed them into continuing in the story and at the same moment pulled the rim of his veil nearer his eyes so they wouldn’t recognize him.
Cleopas’ friend took up the lament, “Our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and had him crucified…”
The word “crucified” seemed to shake the two men to the core. It took awhile for them to recover and speak again. Jesus remained patient,. His hand veiled by the sleeve of his robe resting on Cleopas’ shoulder.
Soon your sorrow shall be ended. Soon my brothers, he thought.
Jesus advanced a few steps urging them onward. He was hoping the walk would help to ease the burden. As they traveled together the disciples poured out the rest of the story.
“Our hope had been that he would be the one to set Israel free. And this is not all: two whole days have gone by since it all happened; and some women from our group have astounded us; they went to the tomb in the early morning, and when they did not find the body, they came back to tell us they had seen a vision of angels who declared he was alive. Some of our friends went to the tomb and found everything exactly as the women had reported, but of him they saw nothing.”
Though the Master’s face was in shadow he smiled widely as the two men who stared perplexed questioning the reason for his happiness after hearing such solemn news.
“Oh foolish men,” Jesus laughed gently and gave them a friendly pat on the back as he walked between them, “So slow to believe the full message of the prophets! Was it not ordained that the Messiah should suffer and so enter his glory?”
At last he had the joy of telling his story~ the story of the Suffering Servant prophesied about long ago. Jesus began with the Torah, creation and the gift of the animal skins from the Father to cover the nakedness of Adam and Eve. He spoke of Moses and Passover where the blood was sprinkled on the doorpost and lentils so that the angel of death would pass over the Hebrews. As Jesus spoke he watched the cloud of despair slowly lift from the faces of his friends and eager enthusiasm light their eyes. They hung on his words. He was careful not to rush the details. He painted the portrait of the Suffering Servant in vivid color in prophets and psalms and on into Isaiah, the Messiah beaten and lashed for the sins of the people and Zachariah where Israel would look upon him whom they have pierced and mourn for him as an only son. Straight on to Malachi he showed them every passage written about him.
So it was when he had finished they had arrived in Emmaus at an inn. Jesus stood near a stone wall leaning heavily on his staff. The two men wanted to go inside. It was getting late and sun was already leaving the sky. Jesus looked off in the distance contemplating the world of men and how many still lived in spiritual darkness. Oh there were so many yet to be brought into the light! He would continue on his journey and rescue them all! But as he thanked his companions and turned toward the road the two men deterred him and Jesus realized his work with them was not completed. He graciously accepted their offer to come in and share the evening meal. It was getting dark they said, and traveling at night was foolish, especially in these parts. One would be inviting trouble from thieves and robbers. The only option was to stay, get a good night’s rest and then leave at dawn. The men insisted they would pay for everything. Cleophas remarked that it was the least they could do since his words had brought them so much comfort and hope.
Everyone left sandals, staffs and cloaks at the door. The innkeeper led them to a low table lit by several oil lamps and surrounded by cushions and mats. There Jesus and his companions sat down cross-legged. Jesus saw the expectant faces of his two friends. They wanted to hear more about the suffering Messiah but a servant girl approached with a basin, towel and vase of oil for their hair. It was customary to put oil on the head after a journey. A good host provided oil for the guest both as a means to cool the brow and to tame coarse locks. Everyone removed their turbans. Jesus was the last. He laid aside his veil and then he unraveled his head scarf. Freeing his hair it flowed like rippling silk across his shoulders and back, a stark contrast against his white robe. Immediately the men smelled the aromatic fragrance of oil on his hair. The servant girl smiled. There was no need for oil, not for Jesus. His hair already had the fragrance and appearance of a well attended man.
Next was the customary washing of hands, and saying the evening blessing. The innkeeper laid flat bread in a wooden platter on the table, along with cups and a flask of wine. She gestured for Jesus to hold his hands over the basin and then proceeded to poor water over them. When she saw the wounds in his hands she nearly dropped her pitcher but Jesus lifted his finger to his lips signaling her silence. She turned to Cleopas and his friend clearly shaken, perplexed as to why the others in the room had not seen the wounds.
Ah his wounds! The time had come. Jesus reached for the bread. With both hands he raised the bread high in a blessing. The sleeves of his robes fell back revealing the terrible beauty of his wounds, the treasures he was so proud of. In the light of the oil lamp they resembled dark red rose petals yet the purple and blue bruising on his hands had not faded. The marks looked fresh and seemed to glisten with new drops of blood.. And then his glory burst forth with a light so bright that the disciples, the innkeeper and the servant girl gasped, shielding their eyes. The light encircled Jesus, whitest and most golden on his hands and face. He allowed them to see him sitting in profile and then he vanished. The light retreated more slowly, the last shards of light lingering and then the room became dark again except for the glow of the oil lamps. Jesus had stepped back into the supernatural realm with Abba and the Holy Spirit. He watched as everyone in the room sat in startled silence, except for the servant girl. She stood, hands pressed to her mouth, shaking her head. The moment seemed suspended, like the calm after a storm, like breath hanging on the edge of a sigh.
“Did you see him?” blurted out the servant girl.
“He was here…” gasped the innkeeper. “He just… vanished.”
“Oh the light…the light… He was beautiful…” said the girl.
The two disciples were weeping.
“It was Jesus. It was Jesus. We should have known. He was with us all the time, on the walk here to Emmaus.” Cleopas exclaimed. “He appeared to us, we who doubted that he was alive. Did not our hearts burn as He shared the scriptures?”
Again everyone looked to the place where Jesus had sat. The flat bread lay broken in two pieces on the wooden plate. This was the precious evidence that he had been there, the broken bread. The men bowed their heads. One spoke, the friend of Cleopas, his voice hushed and filled with tears.
“We knew him in the breaking of the bread.”
Jesus, although unseen by the natural eye stood behind the disciples, placing his hands on their heads in a loving caress, he smiled.
“You shall always know me in the breaking of the bread!”
The afternoon was bright with the coming of spring. Blossoming pomegranate trees and wayside flowers lining the dusty roads leading to Emmaus bore witness of the forgotten winter rains. The muddy landscape had all but disappeared. Once again the way was marked with greenery. Grass grew high and was sprinkled with red poppies as far as the eyes could see. There came two men walking along the path. Like approaching storm clouds they drew near, their faces dark and gloomy and veiled in tears. Jesus stood behind a sycamore tree watching them. He need not think twice about whom they were, these two disciples, dear companions of the brotherhood. Such sadness Jesus thought should not be allowed on such a glorious day. But how should he appear to them? He could just spring out from his hiding place beyond the sycamore tree. He imagined the round face of the heavier man Cleopas pale with shock, as he trembled and steadied himself against his much taller leaner friend.
“Oh my!” Cleopas would gasp and remove his headscarf and dab his sweating forehead, “Ohhhh my!”
Even as Jesus stifled a laugh listening for the voice of Abba a plan came into being. Together Father and Son thought of another approach, still whimsical but not quite as alarming. Gathering his long black hair behind his neck and then wrapping it in a turban, he placed yet another veil over the wrap. His sleeves were long enough to hide his wounds. Ah… a walking stick would make a good prop. He snatched a decent one from the ground. The size and fit was perfect. The two disciples would never suspect him! His radiant glory subdued and disguised beneath rough homespun, he waited a moment longer and then sprang into step behind them.
“May I ask,” said Jesus in his best Aramaic, peering between their shoulders, which was somewhat difficult a task considering the remarkable height distinction between the two men, “What is this you are discussing so intently as you walk along?”
They just stood there and then turned and faced him. Jesus could see the hopeless despair in eyes guarded by dark circles and clouded by worry. Clearly no comfort had come to these men. Not even the comfort of sleep.
The men had been speaking in Greek. Cleopas returned Jesus’ question in Aramaic, the language of the Galileans, the common people.
“Are you the only one in Jerusalem who hasn’t heard what’s happened the last few days?”
Jesus would have smiled had the two disciples not have been so overwhelmed with sadness. His tone was compassioned when he answered,
“What has happened?”
He understood his death had dashed their hope to pieces but he desired the men to tell him about the despair, the feelings of abandonment. Always the listener, he leaned on his staff waiting.
“The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene,” Cleopas replied. He glanced at his friend wanting his support but the other man only shook his head as fresh tears stood in his eyes.
Cleopas groaned throwing up his arms. “He proved he was a great prophet by the things he said and did in the sight of God and all the people!”
Jesus nodded and with a gesture that meant “tell me more,” he coaxed them into continuing in the story and at the same moment pulled the rim of his veil nearer his eyes so they wouldn’t recognize him.
Cleopas’ friend took up the lament, “Our chief priests and our leaders handed him over to be sentenced to death, and had him crucified…”
The word “crucified” seemed to shake the two men to the core. It took awhile for them to recover and speak again. Jesus remained patient,. His hand veiled by the sleeve of his robe resting on Cleopas’ shoulder.
Soon your sorrow shall be ended. Soon my brothers, he thought.
Jesus advanced a few steps urging them onward. He was hoping the walk would help to ease the burden. As they traveled together the disciples poured out the rest of the story.
“Our hope had been that he would be the one to set Israel free. And this is not all: two whole days have gone by since it all happened; and some women from our group have astounded us; they went to the tomb in the early morning, and when they did not find the body, they came back to tell us they had seen a vision of angels who declared he was alive. Some of our friends went to the tomb and found everything exactly as the women had reported, but of him they saw nothing.”
Though the Master’s face was in shadow he smiled widely as the two men who stared perplexed questioning the reason for his happiness after hearing such solemn news.
“Oh foolish men,” Jesus laughed gently and gave them a friendly pat on the back as he walked between them, “So slow to believe the full message of the prophets! Was it not ordained that the Messiah should suffer and so enter his glory?”
At last he had the joy of telling his story~ the story of the Suffering Servant prophesied about long ago. Jesus began with the Torah, creation and the gift of the animal skins from the Father to cover the nakedness of Adam and Eve. He spoke of Moses and Passover where the blood was sprinkled on the doorpost and lentils so that the angel of death would pass over the Hebrews. As Jesus spoke he watched the cloud of despair slowly lift from the faces of his friends and eager enthusiasm light their eyes. They hung on his words. He was careful not to rush the details. He painted the portrait of the Suffering Servant in vivid color in prophets and psalms and on into Isaiah, the Messiah beaten and lashed for the sins of the people and Zachariah where Israel would look upon him whom they have pierced and mourn for him as an only son. Straight on to Malachi he showed them every passage written about him.
So it was when he had finished they had arrived in Emmaus at an inn. Jesus stood near a stone wall leaning heavily on his staff. The two men wanted to go inside. It was getting late and sun was already leaving the sky. Jesus looked off in the distance contemplating the world of men and how many still lived in spiritual darkness. Oh there were so many yet to be brought into the light! He would continue on his journey and rescue them all! But as he thanked his companions and turned toward the road the two men deterred him and Jesus realized his work with them was not completed. He graciously accepted their offer to come in and share the evening meal. It was getting dark they said, and traveling at night was foolish, especially in these parts. One would be inviting trouble from thieves and robbers. The only option was to stay, get a good night’s rest and then leave at dawn. The men insisted they would pay for everything. Cleophas remarked that it was the least they could do since his words had brought them so much comfort and hope.
Everyone left sandals, staffs and cloaks at the door. The innkeeper led them to a low table lit by several oil lamps and surrounded by cushions and mats. There Jesus and his companions sat down cross-legged. Jesus saw the expectant faces of his two friends. They wanted to hear more about the suffering Messiah but a servant girl approached with a basin, towel and vase of oil for their hair. It was customary to put oil on the head after a journey. A good host provided oil for the guest both as a means to cool the brow and to tame coarse locks. Everyone removed their turbans. Jesus was the last. He laid aside his veil and then he unraveled his head scarf. Freeing his hair it flowed like rippling silk across his shoulders and back, a stark contrast against his white robe. Immediately the men smelled the aromatic fragrance of oil on his hair. The servant girl smiled. There was no need for oil, not for Jesus. His hair already had the fragrance and appearance of a well attended man.
Next was the customary washing of hands, and saying the evening blessing. The innkeeper laid flat bread in a wooden platter on the table, along with cups and a flask of wine. She gestured for Jesus to hold his hands over the basin and then proceeded to poor water over them. When she saw the wounds in his hands she nearly dropped her pitcher but Jesus lifted his finger to his lips signaling her silence. She turned to Cleopas and his friend clearly shaken, perplexed as to why the others in the room had not seen the wounds.
Ah his wounds! The time had come. Jesus reached for the bread. With both hands he raised the bread high in a blessing. The sleeves of his robes fell back revealing the terrible beauty of his wounds, the treasures he was so proud of. In the light of the oil lamp they resembled dark red rose petals yet the purple and blue bruising on his hands had not faded. The marks looked fresh and seemed to glisten with new drops of blood.. And then his glory burst forth with a light so bright that the disciples, the innkeeper and the servant girl gasped, shielding their eyes. The light encircled Jesus, whitest and most golden on his hands and face. He allowed them to see him sitting in profile and then he vanished. The light retreated more slowly, the last shards of light lingering and then the room became dark again except for the glow of the oil lamps. Jesus had stepped back into the supernatural realm with Abba and the Holy Spirit. He watched as everyone in the room sat in startled silence, except for the servant girl. She stood, hands pressed to her mouth, shaking her head. The moment seemed suspended, like the calm after a storm, like breath hanging on the edge of a sigh.
“Did you see him?” blurted out the servant girl.
“He was here…” gasped the innkeeper. “He just… vanished.”
“Oh the light…the light… He was beautiful…” said the girl.
The two disciples were weeping.
“It was Jesus. It was Jesus. We should have known. He was with us all the time, on the walk here to Emmaus.” Cleopas exclaimed. “He appeared to us, we who doubted that he was alive. Did not our hearts burn as He shared the scriptures?”
Again everyone looked to the place where Jesus had sat. The flat bread lay broken in two pieces on the wooden plate. This was the precious evidence that he had been there, the broken bread. The men bowed their heads. One spoke, the friend of Cleopas, his voice hushed and filled with tears.
“We knew him in the breaking of the bread.”
Jesus, although unseen by the natural eye stood behind the disciples, placing his hands on their heads in a loving caress, he smiled.
“You shall always know me in the breaking of the bread!”
Amen!
