Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus Himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing Him. He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?” They stood still, their faces downcast. Luke 24:13-17
This excerpt from one of Henri’s letters to Marc is long but brings to life how journeying with people in despair can help them arrive at a place of pure delight. For Jesus, the generous gift was a seven mile walk.
“I want to tell you about Jesus. It’s the story of Cleopas and his friend who, with heavy hearts, had set out on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus…
Jesus joins the two men, but they fail to recognize him. What does he do? First he listens to their sad story in a very personal, you might say intimate, fashion. He enters right into their sense of disappointment. He shares their feelings with them. He is prepared to be where they are.
So when Jesus joins these two dejected men, He knows very well what is in their hearts. He knows from experience what human despair is. He knows death and the tomb; He knows what it means to be mortal. Cleopas and his friend must, I think, have perceived that this stranger was really no stranger at all. He understood them too well to remain strange to them for long. They saw that this man was not going to offer them easy words of comfort. When it is Jesus’ turn to speak, He speaks with an authority based not on power, but on personal experience of living. That’s why they listen to Him so attentively.
What does Jesus tell them? Not that death and the dissolution of life are unreal. Nor that their yearning for freedom is unreal. No: in what He says He takes seriously not only death and dissolution, but their longing for freedom as well. He tells them that the Jesus in whom they had placed all their hopes, the Jesus who was indeed dead and buried, this Jesus is alive. He tells them that for the Jesus whom they had admired so much, death and dissolution have become the way to liberation. And He says this in such a way that they sense in their innermost selves that His way can become their way too.
As Jesus was talking to them, they experienced in their hearts the arrival of something new. It was as if their hearts were burning with a flame that came not from without but from within. Jesus had kindled in them something for which they had no words but which was so authentic, so real, that it overcame their depression. Jesus had not said, “It isn’t nearly as bad as you think.” He had said something entirely new: “The most tragic, the most painful, the most hopeless circumstances can become the way to the liberation you long for most of all.” …
When the three men reached Emmaus, so much had happened between them that the two companions were unwilling to let the stranger go. Between these two and Jesus there had arisen a bond which had given them new hope, even though they scarcely knew why. They felt that this unknown individual had given them something new. They didn’t want to go indoors without Him. So they said, “Stay with us. It is nearly evening, and the day is almost over.” Luke, in his account, even says that they implored Him to be their guest. Jesus accepted the invitation and went in with them.
And now there happens something which, for you and me, is of major significance. It touches the very core of the spiritual life. When they sit down to eat, Jesus takes some bread, speaks a blessing over it, breaks it and offers it to them. And as he does so, they know suddenly and with unshakeable certainty that this stranger is Jesus, the same Jesus who had been put to death and laid in a tomb. But at the precise moment this certainty is given to them, he becomes invisible to them.
So much is going on here that it’s difficult to get its full significance across to you; and so I shall limit myself to what is, for me, a very crucial aspect of this incident. What matters here is that the moment Cleopas and his friend recognized Jesus in the breaking of bread, His bodily presence was no longer required as a condition for their new hope. You might say that the bond between them and the stranger had become so intimate that everything strange about him vanishes, and, in the most literal sense, he becomes their bosom friend. So close does He come to them that they no longer need a bodily manifestation in order to hope. They realize now that the new life born in them as they talked with him on the road will stay with them and give them the strength to return to Jerusalem and tell the other people why it isn’t true that “It’s all over.” That’s why Luke reports that they went off straightaway to tell Jesus’ other friends about their experience.
Are you beginning to see what I’m getting at? Cleopas and his friend had become different people. Because they had experienced for themselves that the Jesus whom they had mourned for was alive and closer to them than ever, their hearts were born again, and their inner life was made radically new. That’s something quite different from coming to a new conviction or acquiring a new outlook on things or undergoing a change of opinion.”
Henri Nouwen in Letters to Marc about Jesus: Living a Spiritual Life in a Material World (New York: HarperCollins, 2007). This excerpt comes from Letter II “Jesus: The God Who Sets Us Free.” The book contains seven letters Henri wrote to Marc van Campen. Reply if you want the PDF of it. So rich!
The example of Jesus on this seven mile journey offers us insight on how to love people generously despite their despair. We walk with them. We ask questions. We proclaim what is true and people experience transformation. God help us walk with people and engage with them in ways that make them different and restore their joy.