On Easter Sunday afternoon, Cleopas and his companion walk to Emmaus, a town about a two-hour walk from Jerusalem. They had hoped Jesus was the Messiah, but Pilate condemned Him to die by crucifixion. Even though some women had found His tomb empty and claimed to see angels, that was not enough. No one had seen Jesus yet.
A man caught up with Cleopas on the road and struck up a conversation. After sharing their despair about what happened over the weekend, Cleopas and his friend got a lecture from the stranger. Why had they lost hope after Jesus died? A suffering Messiah is not a contradiction at all. It is not only possible; it is a prophecy fulfilled. The entire Old Testament pointed to a king of the Jews who would undergo pain and then enter into glory. The hearts of Cleopas and his friend began to burn as He taught them from the Bible. But they still didn’t identify the Stranger.
When they invited the stranger to a meal in Emmaus, he accepted. But the stranger did something strange: He became the Host. They didn’t serve Him food; He served them. His actions (and the order in which He acted) were chosen to send a message. He took the bread, thanked God, broke it, and gave it to the despairing disciples. These are the four verbs that describe what Jesus did when He fed thousands with bread and what Jesus did on Thursday night when He was betrayed.
At that moment, Cleopas and his friend look into the eyes of Jesus. They know who the Stranger is. Their hearts had been ablaze, but they had not recognized Jesus. Not until they see Him in the Eucharist. He is present at the meal and in the meal. As quickly as the stranger appeared, He disappeared.
What is the first thing they do upon realizing that the crucified Jesus is alive? Luke tell us “they got up and returned at once to Jerusalem” (24:33). When they see the risen Jesus, their first reaction is to seek and find the Apostles. In Jerusalem, they find the Eleven (minus Judas) who had “assembled together.”
Pause here for a brief and nerdy sidebar:
The Greek word Luke chooses for ‘assembled’ is “ἠθροισμένους,” and it’s only used once in the New Testament. Sometimes, it gets the prefix “συν,” but even that word is only used by Luke in Acts 12:12 and Acts 19:25. This word is used in the Greek translation of the Old Testament for the Hebrew word “qabats,” a verb that means to gather, assemble, or collect. The first use of this word I found in the Septuagint was Jacob’s gathering of his twelve sons (Genesis 49:1-2).
What happens when the disciples assemble together? Jesus appears in the upper room, proves that he has flesh and bones by eating fish in their presence, and promises the Holy Spirit. He leads them out of the city, lifts up His hands, and blesses them. Then He ascends into heaven. Thus ends the Gospel of Luke!
I want to focus on the physical and spiritual journey of Cleopas. When he is unaware of the resurrection, he walks away from Jeruslaem to Emmaus. Away from the apostles. Away from the empty tomb of Jesus. Away from the story of the angels and women. Away from hope. When his hope is restored and he sees the risen Christ, he returns to Jerusalem. He goes back. He reunites with the apostles. They are already assembled around this singular idea: “It is true! The Lord is risen.”
Part of the good news of Luke 24 is the assumption of the gathered Church. If you believe that Jesus is alive, you gather with others who believe Jesus is alive. It’s not an argument; it’s an assumption that it is acted upon. It’s what Cleopas and his friend do, despite the fact that they have to walk back to Jerusalem at night. It’s seven miles in the dark. He takes the risk and accepts the dangers because that’s what seemed obvious. He doesn’t even think about it. If Christ is alive, Christians will meet up.
I became slightly obsessed with Luke’s word choice for “assembled” because I think it might be a call back to the end of Genesis. Suppose for a second that Luke 24 is referencing Genesis 49. I think it’s hard to deny some of the similarities:
Jacob, the head of the twelve tribes of Israel, gathers his twelve sons, the head of the tribes. Jesus, the head of the Church, gathers His apostles, who will sit on twelve thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel (Luke 22:30).
Jacob promises to “tell them what will happen to them in the days to come.” Jesus, a new Jacob, promises His disciples the Holy Spirit, which will come upon them in the days to come. (Fifty days after His resurrection, to be precise.)
Jacob blesses his sons, giving each the blessing appropriate to him. Jesus, the new Jacob, lifts his hands and blesses his disciples. I wonder which blessing He used. Perhaps: “The Lord bless you and keep you…”
After giving them instructions, Jacob dies, is gathered to His people, and buried with his fathers. The Greater Jacob reverses this order of things. He breathes his last on the cross, dies and is buried in the tomb of Joseph, only to rise on the third day and give His sons instructions on what they ought to do.
Why connect Jesus and Jacob? What’s the upshot? Because just as the family of Israel is not a mere collection of twelve individuals, the Church is not a crowd of automatons with the same idea in their brain. The Apostles are the new foundation of the renewed Israel, led by their head, the Messiah. Jesus is the elder brother of a new family, not the unifying “factor” for otherwise disconnected and self-sufficient men.
This is one of many reasons why we should not imagine belief in the resurrection outside of the Church. The first people who saw the risen Jesus got together in the upper room. They are a people - an assembly who gather - because of the truth. They are certainly not individuals who go on believing in the idea of resurrection without congregating.
The Church of Luke 24 is the community who receives the promise of Jesus, the Holy Spirit. The Church is the audience blessed by the risen Christ. The Church is the school of students who receives instructions from their resurrected Rabbi. The Church is the flock whose Shepherd has come to show them green pastures.
The more we downplay the atomization of Christians, the better for the Church. We are the symposium; He is the Philosopher and our Philosophy. We are the Temple; His Spirit dwells within us. We are the house; He is the cornerstone. We are the terrible as an army with banners; He is our Warrior and Commander. We are the Kingdom; He is the King. We are the rabble; He is the rabble-rouser.
“I believe He is risen; I just don’t do church” was not entertained by the eyewitnesses of the resurrection. Neither should we entertain it.