Christ Meeting with Doubters

“And it came to pass, as He sat at meat with them, He took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew Him; and He vanished out of their sight.”—Luke xxiv. 30, 31.

We are all apt to suppose that those who lived in the first century, had certain spiritual advantages above those who live in the nineteenth; that the inhabitants of Palestine had some access to the Eternal World, which is denied to the inhabitants of England. Apostles and Evangelists cannot be accused of fostering this opinion; they take pains to dispel it. They represent our Lord, before His Passion, as conversing with them respecting a Kingdom of God. Of this Kingdom, they say they had only the most confused glimpses. He told them that they could not bear then what they should know after He had gone away from them. They describe themselves as misunderstanding His words, as failing most when they fancied they were wisest; as being instructed by terrible experience that they were not less cowardly or heartless than any about them.

But if before the Resurrection they were to discover their likeness to other men, we might have supposed that the appearance to them after it would have been of a very special character,—such as would mark the superiority of the age which witnessed it to all after ages. There is a marked difference between the narratives of the forty days after the Resurrection, and of those which preceded. Christ appeared rarely; vanished quickly. While He was present to their bodily eyes, it seemed His chief lesson to them that His intercourse with them was not dependent upon that presence. He was preparing them for a time when they would not be able even for a few moments to gaze upon Him. That time was the time to which He would have them look forward. That time would be the commencement of their true knowledge of Him, of their full communion with Him. But that is the time when the Apostles would stand on the same level with us.

The story of the two disciples going to the village of Emmaus, records the most remarkable of those appearances; none is described with the same minuteness. And it is the one which men in later ages have most connected with their own experiences; the one which has done most to bridge over the chasm between them and those who saw and handled the Word of Life. They have been sure that it was written to tell them that this Word of Life is not far from any of them; that it is their fault, and not His, if they do not hear His voice and follow Him. Let us consider the narrative, and see how this impression has been produced.

I. “And, behold, two of them went that same day to a village called Emmaus, which was from Jerusalem about threescore furlongs. And they talked together of all these things which had happened.” When you consider what those things were which happened,—what impression they have left on all human society,—how, after eighteen centuries, Passion Week is still remembered in every city of Europe,—you try to imagine what those must have felt who were on the spot, just at the moment, and who had all personal attachment and reverence to deepen their amazement. Perhaps they will not be able to speak at all; if they do, what words will come from their lips! All such expectations are disappointed. These men are like other men. They are perplexed and bewildered. They take no measure of the events which they have witnessed. The events must mean something: what that something is, they desire to know. There is a gloom over their hearts; a misty sorrow; the sense of a blank; a craving for some interpreter of their own strange doubts. So much we might guess, if we heard no more of their discourse; presently we shall be sure that it was so. And so we come to perceive that the thoughts of these friends walking to the village near Jerusalem, were in all essentials like the thoughts of many friends who are walking this day to villages near London. They may not be talking of what happened in the Passion Week; they may not even believe that the events did happen in it which we hold to be of such infinite significance. But they may be asking each other gloomily and despairingly, whether all the hopes they had once cherished of something better and nobler for the world and for themselves have not been scattered; whether friends to whom they looked up have not gone out of their sight or failed to fulfil their promises; whether the tidings they heard in their childhood of a Revelation to man, and a Redemption for men, have not lost their meaning and power, or been changed into prophecies of darkness and evil. How many are living now with this weight on their hearts! How many show by their speech and their looks that they are sad!

II. “And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus Himself drew near and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know Him.” Again, the Evangelist disappoints all the notions we should have formed beforehand of the treatment which is suitable to such an incident as this. A person who has been laid in the grave presents himself suddenly to two men who had been used to see him and speak with him. Surely we shall have a description of his look and manner, if not of theirs; if there is no allusion to any flutter of doubt in the welcome which they give him. There is nothing of all this. His tone is as unimpassioned as before. Jesus draws nigh. He joins the two disciples. They do not know Him. That is the narrative. Nothing is said to heighten the effect of it; not a word to make us feel that this was a new occurrence in the world’s history,—an occurrence which would scarcely ever be repeated.

And why not? Because, brethren, I apprehend it did not strike St. Luke as a new occurrence, or one which would be rarely repeated. He accepted the coming of this stranger to these disciples as the sign of that which had been continually taking place when two men walking near Jerusalem, or walking anywhere else, had communed together and reasoned. He accepted it as a sign of what would take place hereafter in cities and villages he had never heard of, and which had not begun to exist, where men of the same nature should meet and engage in the like arguments. “Where two or three are gathered together in My name,” our Lord said, “there am I in the midst of them.” If they are asking what bond holds them to each other,—what is meant by their friendship, by their power of communicating each to the other his feeling and suffering; if they are asking who has given them their sympathies, and whether they can survive separation and death, they are asking about His name; and He will show them that it is not a vain asking, that it is the Name of a living, not of a dead Lord. He will prove that He is in the midst of them, not by revealing Himself to the eyes, but by debating the topics which concern them most, with their hearts and consciences. The advantage, therefore, of these disciples, which seemed at first to be so great, was not in St. Luke’s judgment any advantage at all. They were to know Him just as all other men must know Him. Till they knew Him in that way, their eyes would be holden that they should not see Him.

III. “And He said unto them, What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad? And the one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answering said unto Him, Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days? And He said unto them, What things? And they said unto Him, Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, which was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people: and how the chief priests and our rulers delivered Him to be condemned to death, and have crucified Him. But we trusted that it had been He which should have redeemed Israel: and beside all this, to-day is the third day since these things were done. Yea, and certain women also of our company made us astonished, which were early at the sepulchre; and when they found not His body, they came, saying, that they had also seen a vision of angels, which said that He was alive. And certain of them which were with us went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as the women had said: but Him they saw not.”

They had been talking long about the things that had happened. Now, at the stranger’s call, they try to put their thoughts into some order. The effort must have made them understand the disorder in their minds as they had never understood it before. First came the mere facts, bewildering enough in themselves. There had been a great Teacher, a Prophet, Whom the people wondered at, whose deeds and words they felt had come from God. But our priests—the men of God—had said He was worthy of death; they had given Him up to Romans to punish Him as a traitor against the Emperor. God had let them have their way. He had been crucified. Then came their own hopes. We were expecting a Redeemer of Israel. The priests told us we were to expect such a One. They said all the prophets bore witness of such a One. We thought this must be He; there was none other had so many signs of a Redeemer, none who actually broke so many chains. And this has been the end! Then lastly they gather together fragments of evidence, altogether very curious, which they cannot discard absolutely, nor yet credit. They had heard Him say something about coming back to them on the third day. This is the third day. Certain women have told us a strange tale about finding the sepulchre deserted, and seeing a vision of angels. Men whom we can trust better have confirmed part of their story.

A most faithful summary, brethren, of half-formed beliefs, opinions, expectations, arguments!—such as dwell in a number of minds at this day; beliefs, opinions, expectations, which some desire to scatter, which some tremble to touch lest they should fall to pieces, and so leave the heart utterly empty; but which the Stranger Who appeared to the two friends as they walked and were sad, will sift and winnow, because He will not have His disciples content with anything less than the Truth which He said would make them free. He will sustain all the dreams they are cherishing of a redemption for Israel. But He knows that there is another dream behind that, which must also be realized—and realized first—the dream of a Redemption of mankind.

IV. “Then He said unto them, O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken: ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into His glory? And, beginning at Moses and all the prophets, He expounded unto them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.”

The words sound stern and harsh. For were not these honest, earnest men, genuine disciples, seekers after truth, if they were ever so much perplexed; if they were astray in the pursuit? Could they be called “fools, and slow of heart”? Brethren, it is not worth while to address such language except to earnest men,—to those who are looking for truth, and would die rather than not find what they are looking for. They understand such roughness as this; they welcome it as coming from a Friend; their consciences own the force of it; their hearts taste the sweetness of the kernel which lies within the bitter husk. “What! you have been doubting whether it was possible that a Redeemer of Israel should die and rise again; whether a few fond women could be sufficient witnesses of a fact so utterly improbable. Ask your own selves whether a Redeemer ought not to suffer, ought not to be glorified through suffering. Ask yourselves from what bondage you want to be redeemed. Ask yourselves whether any one who did not bear death with you and for you, could set you above the power of it. And then see whether the Book which you have held to be most sacred, and yet which has been for the most part a collection of dead letters to you, does not speak from first to last of God Himself as a Redeemer, of God Himself as working out the salvation of His creatures; of God Himself as meeting His creatures in a Man. See whether the shout of a King, of a Son of God, does not ring through all its records; is not heard amidst the thunders of Sinai, and in the voice to the boy sleeping in the chamber near the temple, amidst the prayers and thanksgivings of psalmists,—in the anguish of prophets.”

You wonder, perhaps, that a walk of threescore furlongs should have been long enough for the discourse which is here hinted at. Could He in that time trace the stream of God’s Revelation from its mountain bed to the ocean? Brethren, have you never felt how some passage of history or poetry with which you have been familiar for years, has suddenly caught light, and has illuminated the whole region behind, around, before it? Have you never studied a subject in a kind of despair, wondering what link it is you have missed, what diligence you ought to have exercised that you have spared? And suddenly a clue seems to be given you; the paths look more manifold, even more intricate than ever; but the hopelessness is gone; you see your way; each new step is a step towards discovery. Apply this experience to the case before us, and you may see that the Stranger, in teaching the disciples to read His own Name beneath every Song, Prayer, and Narrative—may have imparted to them an entirely new sense of the unity of the Scriptures, though He will at the same time have given them a feeling of their variety and of their relation to themselves which they never had before; though He will have proved that they deserved and would reward a life-long investigation.

V. “And they drew nigh unto the village, whither they went: and He made as though he would have gone further. But they constrained Him, saying, Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And He went in to tarry with them.” I am afraid you should suspect me of wishing to make a sentimental or figurative application of this passage or any part of it; whereas my anxiety is to take it literally, and so to ascertain its practical and universal signification. I should think it a miserable perversion to speak of the house in which these disciples resided as a metaphor for the human heart, or to suppose that Jesus did not actually enter it with bodily feet. Not only would the great doctrine of the Resurrection of the Body, which is so integral and mighty a portion of Christ’s Gospel to mankind, be weakened and endangered by such a frivolous method of interpretation; the inward force of the lesson perishes in our efforts to make it less corporeal. We cannot suppose that the words “Abide in Me” are honest and substantial words in reference to the spirit of man, because we have explained away the common earthly words which correspond to them. If we adhere to the manly teaching of our Child’s Catechism respecting Sacraments, and confess that the outward part or sign is of highest value because it assures us of the reality of the thing signified, we escape out of that Limbo of Vanity between heaven and earth, where nothing is, but all things seem,—a region of notions and fantasies which insult us with a perpetual promise that is never fulfilled.

I do therefore regard our Lord’s accompanying the disciples to their house as a most simple action, just as you would suppose it to be from St. Luke’s narrative. But it is not less simple, if we take it as a sign of a truth in which all human beings are interested, as well as these two Jews. To believe that He is with us in our walks, and with us when we sit down to meat; that by the very constitution of our being we cannot be alone; that He is there when we perceive it least, and that all our perception of what He is, of what we are, and of the world in which He has placed us, is awakened by Him,—there is nothing strange and fantastic in this. It is what we all profess in words. We should not call ourselves Christians if we did not. And oh! some day shall it not become to us a faith in deed?—a faith that will make mysteries light, and not dark; that will transfigure our whole existence?

VI. “And it came to pass, as He sat at meat with them, He took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. And their eyes were opened, and they knew Him, and He vanished out of their sight.”

The guest has become the entertainer. He breaks the bread, He distributes it. Till He takes upon Himself that character, they do not know Him. He has opened to them the Scriptures. He has made hearts that had been dreary and cold burn within them. That He is a Prophet, they cannot doubt. He speaks as one who knows. But that He is the Prophet, the King, the Christ, they have not discovered. It is this act which reveals Him. They have not detained Him by some effort of theirs. He came with intent to bless them. But it is not the revelation to the eye which contains the blessing,—that is granted for an instant, and is over.

Even so, brethren, I think it is in our days. At first it seems as if the mighty Teacher were constrained to abide with His disciples by some hard act of faith, some vigorous religious exercise. The opinion is not a delusive one. He Who educated the old patriarch to wrestle, educates us of the latest generation in the same method. In proportion as trust and hope are awakened in us, in proportion as we look out of ourselves and seek affiance in the great Deliverer, we rise to a new and better life; we exert the functions of redeemed men. But we may easily persuade ourselves,—no persuasion is so akin to our evil nature, or so difficult to eradicate,—that we choose Him, instead of His choosing us; that our faith alters His purpose, instead of resting upon His purpose. Therefore it may be truly said, that a veil is in our eyes, and that we do not know Him till He comes before us in the fullest sense as the author and giver of all life to us, spiritual or animal.

If you ask whether His breaking of bread in that cottage was a sacramental act, I should answer that I conceive no act of Christ can be anything else. Was it not a pledge of His stooping to men,—of His union with men,—of His dominion over men? But if the question is, whether this breaking of bread was like that to which we are invited who may communicate in a completed Sacrifice, who may draw nigh to God through an ascended High Priest—I answer, Christ Himself spoke of His departure to the Father as the beginning of all highest knowledge, as the opening of such a converse between Earth and Heaven as never could be possible whilst He was tarrying with them. It is therefore, I maintain, that we are guilty of strange faithlessness and ingratitude when we estimate our position as worse than that of those who saw Him before the Passion or in the forty days after the Resurrection. It must be better and grander. Christ reveals Himself not to one here and there. He is proclaimed as the Universal King, as the Universal Sacrifice. As such we are permitted to receive Him. As such we are permitted to declare Him to the world.

But if our consciences say, as I am sure they do, “We have not so received Him as such ourselves, we have not declared Him as such to the world;” then let us remember that whatever we have done or have not done, He is now, as of old, revealing Himself. It was not the testimony of women or men that discovered Him to the two disciples as they walked to the village near Jerusalem. That testimony had not availed to disperse the sadness and restore their hopes. It was He Himself Who drew near to them and reasoned with them. So has it been always, so is it now. It may diminish some of our pride and some of our despair if we assure ourselves that it is so. We shall not suppose that we can convert Jews, or Turks, or Infidels, or Heretics by our subtle arguments or wonderful exposures of their ignorance. But if we believe that Christ died, and rose again, for them and for us,—that He is verily the Lord and Teacher of man, we may believe that He knows the passage to their hearts,—that He can tell what is pressing upon them, though we cannot,—that He can meet them and discover Himself to them,—that it is His good pleasure that they as well as we should come to the knowledge of His truth. For what are we, that we should know it? What arts have we by which we can keep Him among us, even if in past days He has tarried with us? Dependence on His infinite grace, on the love which He has manifested to the world, is the only security and comforter to ourselves. While we cherish this dependence and renounce all pretensions to be better than others, He may employ us, as He did the Apostles after they had learnt the same lesson, to be His Messengers to all the families of the earth.