Today we hear a portion of Luke’s gospel that we usually label as “The Walk to Emmaus.”  The story is one we recall fondly, perhaps because of the comedic aspect of the disciples not recognizing the resurrected Jesus[i], perhaps because we like the gentle way Jesus walks and dines with the unknowing disciples, or perhaps because this story simply confirms that the Lord is risen indeed!  Whatever our reason, when the familiar story starts, our subconscious starts to check out as we say, “Oh, I know this one.  The walk to Emmaus!”

But this year, this passage has been hitting me a little differently.  As Cleopas and the other unnamed disciple walk to Emmaus on the evening of Easter Sunday, having had their hopes for a victorious Messiah be dashed by Jesus’ death, having heard the astounding tale by the women of an empty tomb and angels, and even having some of the men confirm the empty tomb, and they are now spilling their sob story to a foreigner, a stranger, a migrant[ii] – when they utter four words that have been lingering with me all week, “But we had hoped.”  Cleopas says, “But we had hoped that [Jesus] was the one to redeem Israel.”

Every person here is familiar with this road.  “We have walked [this road].  We’ve lost our way on [this road].  We’ve left [this road] and returned to [this road].”[iii] We call the road the walk to Emmaus, but we know this road as the “But we had hoped” road.  We had hoped the cancer wouldn’t return.  We had hoped the marriage counseling would make things better.  We had hoped our son would come home.  We had hoped for that new job or that college acceptance.  We had hoped the addiction or depression would heal.  We had hoped for different election results.  We had hoped for justice and peace.  We had hoped for our faith to survive.[iv]

So, what happens on this “But we had hoped,” road?  Despite the very grim nature of this road, we see two faithful disciples experience a whole lot of grace.  We first see that Jesus walks alongside, encouraging the questions of the disciples.  The disciples had a clear vision of how things were supposed to go with Jesus, and events did not happen in that way.  They are confused, and they have questions.  And although Jesus seems to scold them for not connecting the dots, he does spend time listening with permission.  The next grace we see is that there is space for risky conversations with Jesus.  Cleopas says some pretty risqué things to this migrant, as the Greek is translated.  He critiques the religious authorities of the time, he confesses his desire that the government would have been upended by Jesus, he proclaims that Jesus was the Messiah.  These are treasonous words said as they are fleeing town after their leader has been executed.  They risk the very conversations we avoid like the plague – religion and politics – because they feel safe with Jesus.

The third grace comes as Jesus reframes the disciples’ trauma.  Jesus listens openly to what the disciples describe, and then he patiently walks them through a biblical exegesis about what, who, and how the Messiah is to be according to the prophets and scripture.  Jesus honors their trauma, and then reframes their trauma in light of the Holy Spirit.  And the fourth and final grace of the “But we had hoped,” road is the intimacy of a meal.  This is not necessarily a Eucharistic feast – just a meal of blessed bread, broken and shared, and then eaten in the intimate way that one did in those days, reclined much more closely than we might in our modern sensibilities of personal space.[v]

Two scholars speak truth into this abundance of grace.  Professor Margaret Aymer argues, “Luke’s story reminds us that our relationship with the resurrected Christ is a relationship of long walks, risky conversations, reframed traumas, and quiet dinners—an intimate relationship between Christ and the church, of words shared and bread broken.”[vi]  Now you may still be thinking, “But we had hoped.”  Scholar Debie Thomas acknowledges, “Yes, we had.  Of course we had.  So very many things are different right now than we had hoped they’d be.  And yet.  The stranger who is the Savior still meets us on the lonely road to Emmaus.  The guest who becomes our host still nourishes us with Presence, Word, and Bread.  So keep walking.  Keep telling the story,” and having risky conversations.  “Keep honoring the stranger.”  Keep returning to scripture.  “Keep attending to your burning heart.  Christ is risen.  He is no less risen on the road to Emmaus than he is anywhere else.  So look for him.  Listen for him.  And when he lingers at your door, honoring your freedom, but yearning to feed you, say what he longs to hear:  Stay with me.”[vii]  Amen.

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[i] Amy-Jill Levine and Ben Witherington III, The Gospel of Luke (New York:  Cambridge University Press, 2018), 658.

[ii] Margaret Aymer, “Commentary on Luke 24:13-35,” April 19, 2026, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-luke-2413-35-11 on April 17, 2026.

[iii] Debie Thomas, “But We Had Hoped,” Into the Mess & Other Jesus Stories:  Reflections on the Life of Christ (Eugene, OR:  Cascade Books, 2022), 194.

[iv] Idea described by Thomas, 194.

[v] Aymer.

[vi] Aymer.

[vii] Thomas, 197.