“Our own hope had been that he would be the one to set Israel free.”
In the painting titled ‘The Road to Emmaus’ the portrayal of the disciples serves as a visual metaphor for the weight of their grief and extinguished expectations. The artist depicts the risen Christ as transparent, faintly outlined, present but not yet recognised. The figure of Jesus can be seen imitating the disciples’ posture and pace, communicating a deep empathy for their feelings, the first threads of friendship.
By “opening the scriptures”, Jesus reframes the disciples’ dashed hopes. He utilises the disciples’ own framework—the prophets and Moses—to explain the scriptures, leading them to new understandings, new insights which begin to pierce the dark shrouds of dashed hopes.
Those we walk with often carry unseen burdens of dashed hopes, disappointment or worse. Parenting, leading, teaching, nursing, serving often means meeting and accompanying people in that “seven-mile” barren space of disillusionment and confusion. It requires the discipline of attentive listening which seeks first to understand, to acknowledge in word and posture the reality of their “last few days”.
As Christians we can be the Christ presence that helps others make sense of their story. This often involves a willingness to share the story of our own lives, blessed and broken, of our own faith journey from “foolish men” “slow to believe.” As St Peter writes, “Always be ready to make your defence to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you.” (1 Peter 3:15)
We all know that walking with others can be hard, indeed a form of suffering especially, when those suffering a loss of hope are those we love. As a father to a son suffering long term serious mental illness, it can be heart-breaking. I had no answer to his cry of, ‘Where is God in all this Dad?’ I had no answer until I realised that I had been called to be God present to him, that as a follower of Christ I had been called to give him reason to hope. I had never connected the dots for him or myself. My answer ever since has been, “Right here with you!’
We are called to walk alongside others until their heavy, dark silhouettes are illuminated by the recognition of a hope that was with them all along. We are called to be bread broken until they recognise in our hands, the hands of Christ. But people also need our testimony, even other disciples need us to cry out, ‘It is true! He is risen!’ If not, the Christ beside them, the Christ above them, the Christ below them, remains unrecognised.
by Greg Wilson