Third Sunday of Easter 2026

Luke 24,13-35

Rev. Neli Miranda

 

            During the past few Sundays, we have journeyed with the disciples—both women and men—and witnessed their struggle on Easter Day. However, they were all transformed when the Risen Jesus met them.

            Today’s Gospel presents us with one of the most moving passages in the New Testament, known as the ‘Road to Emmaus.’ The Good News of Jesus’ resurrection is now being heard outside of Jerusalem. Luke tells us of two disciples who, on that very day, are leaving the city.  Luke names one of them Cleopas, and it is likely that the other was Mary, his wife. Although they have heard the women’s proclamation, the news has not moved them to stay with the community. After witnessing torture, suffering, and death—and fearing potential persecution—they see no reason to remain in the city.

Luke notes that they are going to a nearby village named Emmaus—likely related to a term meaning “warm springs.” We might say they are fleeing the “city of death” for a warm spring that promises safety, security, and comfort. Either way, they leave behind Jerusalem—their pain, their hopes, and a community in crisis.

Pain, fear, and confusion can blind us, and sometimes we long to lock ourselves in or escape to a “warm spring.”  But how good it is to know that the Risen Jesus reaches us along the roads we take to flee our pain.

As the disciples walk away from Jerusalem, they talk about all that has happened. Jesus himself draws near and walks with them, “but their eyes were kept from recognizing him” (Luke 24,16). Jesus is not hiding; rather, their vision is clouded.

When and why do we find ourselves unable to recognize the Lord’s presence with us?

As they journey, Jesus lets them give voice to their thoughts and wounds. Their words reveal a deep misunderstanding of Jesus’ mission and the roots of their despair. They describe Jesus as a prophet mighty in deed and word, executed by some of their leaders; they had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel (Luke 24,21). Were they expecting a military Messiah—someone to confront Rome, free the people, and restore the kingdom by force? No wonder they are disillusioned after the crucifixion and hurry toward Emmaus, the “warm spring.”

On the road, Jesus deconstructs their model of liberation. Opening the Scriptures, he reveals that the Messiah is not a warrior-king who dominates others, but the Suffering Servant who stands in solidarity with the oppressed, unmasks unjust power, and, through his passion, brings life.

Their eyes begin to open; their hearts burn within them. In Emmaus, after the illuminating conversation and a “simple” act of hospitality— “Stay with us”—they recognize Jesus at the table in the breaking of the bread (Luke 24,30–31, 35). Hospitality, an open table, and bread broken and shared become the signs by which the Risen One is known. Wherever there is welcome and shared bread, there the Risen Jesus is.

Having met Jesus at the “warm spring,” they do not remain there. That same hour they return to Jerusalem—the place of pain and struggle—where the community is gathering its courage and discovering its mission.

How many times has our encounter with Jesus sent us back into the struggle?

Dear sisters and brothers, the force of suffering and death can be so crushing that we fail to notice the seeds of life sprouting among us. We all, at times, take the road to Emmaus to flee our suffering. But the road to Emmaus is more than an escape route; it is a transformative journey. Along the way we encounter Jesus in the stranger, learn to name our pain, listen to unexpected voices, unlearn tired paradigms, and be converted to God’s way. Emmaus becomes an opportunity to stand in solidarity and share with those who are on the road, to invite them to our table.

And there, in simple hospitality and shared bread, our eyes open to recognize the Risen One among us. In Emmaus—the “warm spring”—our despair and sadness are transformed into the joy of Life. Yet Emmaus is not our final destination. The encounter there returns us to Jerusalem—to communities that struggle, to histories marked by wounds, to the places where the Spirit is already raising the poor, healing memories, and building justice.

If you plan to head to Emmaus, be sure to greet the stranger and share your bread. Then be ready to return—hearts burning—to the work of life in Jerusalem. AMEN.