Two disciples of Jesus had business in Emmaus, a town out a little ways from Jerusalem. They were in deep despair,—no deepest despair.

Their teacher Jesus now was dead, crucified by the Romans. Wonderful, shining hope that Jesus was the Messiah, sent to set up the kingdom of God, were dashed. And for three days, continuing despair.

True, some women claimed the tomb where Jesus’ body had been placed was empty. Something also about angels around the tomb. But they were just women, no doubt in some kind of hysteria over all that had happened.

Well, life had to go on. They had business in the town of Emmaus, out from Jerusalem.

Then this stranger suddenly showed up and started talking to them as they walked.
Even then, they were slow to understand.

When they stopped at Emmaus, the stranger made as though to keep going. When they suggested he stop and eat with them, he agreed.

God, after all, doesn’t force himself on us. We have to invite him in.

Jesus had to break bread with them, before a—what—quiet gesture of bread breaking, life breaking—startled them. Suddenly, like that—finally—they knew.

And they were never the same again and neither was the world.