No Mistaking the Road

Wednesday in the Octave of Easter

Luke 24:13-35

Perhaps you noticed something kind of puzzling in the gospel story we just heard. As Jesus meets the two disciples walking toward Emmaus, we hear that “their eyes were prevented from recognizing” him. Then later, as they head back to Jerusalem, they say, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way?”

So, if their hearts were burning while Jesus spoke, what kept them from recognizing him?

While there could be many reasons, let me give you mine. It came to me when filling in for Father Chris a couple of weeks ago in his lecture series on prayer.

While researching that topic, I learned that St. Thérèse of Lisieux once said to novices, “I see clearly that you are mistaking the road, and that you will never arrive at the end of your journey. You want to climb the mountain, whereas God wishes you to descend it. He is awaiting you in the fruitful valley of humility.”

So, what prevented them from seeing him? They did—because they had already decided what Jesus was supposed to be, and where he was supposed to be found.

How do I know? They themselves tell us. Listen to their language. Jesus ‘was’ a prophet. We ‘were hoping’ he was the one. Their hope is already in the past. And even though “some women” reported that Jesus was alive again, and the Apostles saw the empty tomb, these two end with, “but him they did not see.” You can almost hear the confusion, disillusionment – and maybe even grief – in their voices.

These are the eyes that cannot recognize Jesus; eyes that envision him waiting for them in some mountaintop, mystical experience where there are no problems, no questions, no fears, no doubts.

But, borrowing from St. Thérèse, they were trying to climb a mountain where God had not asked them to go. And as St. Thérèse reminds us, he was waiting for them—not at the top—but in the valley… on the road… exactly where they were. That’s where Jesus is. And that’s where he meets all of us. Right here, where we are. We might be fooled into thinking he’s nearest to us in our mountaintop experiences. We feel so close to him then! Of course, he is “up there,” but as today’s gospel makes clear, he’s also “down here” when we’re at our weakest – when we question, fear, doubt, or hurt.

And he’s not just near. He is speaking. We don’t hear him saying things like, “Look, here I am,” but he is there. First, he listens as we talk about what we’re thinking and feeling. Then he speaks. How do we know his voice? As the saints have said over the centuries, God’s voice sounds like a quiet invitation:

• Not “figure everything out,” but “stay with me.”
• Not “You are failing,” but “You are mine.”
• Not “Fix this now,” but “Let’s take the next step. I am here with you.”

From this perspective, it’s not at all surprising that Jesus asked them questions and let them speak first, or that he used Scripture to help them see that he was there. Christ would not always be walking on the road to Emmaus with them, but he would always be there in the word, giving light to their darkness. And, as he showed later that evening, he would always be with them in the Blessed Sacrament, feeding them with the greatest gift he could give – himself.

Among all its other virtues, this beautiful story reminds us that Christ never waits until our problems are sorted out, after we repent, or after we get the theology right. No. He meets us now, right where we are – on the road, with all its confusion, problems, or disillusionment.

So the next time you find yourself confused, discouraged, or wondering where God is, don’t look somewhere else. Look at the road you’re on. Because that’s exactly where he will meet you.

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