When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognised him… Luke 24:30-31
Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and
they realised that they were naked; so they sewed fig-leaves together and made coverings
for themselves. Genesis 3:7
Do you ever fail to see the obvious? Do you ever look
straight past something that’s right in front of your nose?
I’m afraid I do. I read in a paper once about the death of
someone I knew just slightly. The article included a small photo. A week or so
later somebody said to me “Had you heard that Dave has died?” And I replied,
shocked, “No! Really?” Yet it was Dave whose photo I had seen.
Somehow I had completely failed to see the connection. I
had no reason to expect to see Dave’s photo in the paper, so when in
fact I did, well, all I saw was a total stranger. Once it was pointed out to me,
of course, I thought, “How could I be so stupid! How could I be so blind!”
Go back two thousand years…
It’s the afternoon of Easter Sunday. Two people are walking
sadly from Jerusalem to Emmaus, roughly seven miles away. Luke says one of them
is called Cleopas, and according to tradition the other is his wife Mary. (John
19:25 mentions a “Mary of Clopas” standing with the other women at the foot of
the cross: Clopas could be an alternative spelling of Cleopas, so Mary could well
be his wife.)
These two, whoever they are, are completely confused by the
events of the last few hours. They are disciples of Jesus, and have seen him crucified
on the Friday. They have sat through that wretched, utterly miserable Saturday
(what a horrible, dreary day that must have been!). Now they are heading to
Emmaus where, presumably, they live.
But before setting off they have been puzzled by rumours:
Jesus, it is said, is alive again! For some reason they don’t have time
to check the facts. They just mull it over together as they walk. We can only
imagine their conversation…
And then they are joined by a stranger. It is Jesus himself
– but they don’t recognise him. Perhaps it’s getting dark (no street lights,
remember). Perhaps his face is partly cloaked. Perhaps their minds are so
numbed that they simply can’t process what’s right before their eyes; they are
in a state of what today might be called “denial”.
He listens as they pour out their story, and their
confusion. Then he explains to them “what was said in all the scriptures
concerning himself”.
They still don’t “get it”. But they persuade him to share a
meal with them. And then… something happens. He takes it on himself to divide
the loaf – and suddenly they understand. “They knew him in the breaking of
the bread”.
The scales fall from their eyes. They see.
It’s rather like Mary Magdalene that same morning. She
finds the tomb open and empty. She assumes the body has been stolen. She
becomes aware of a man standing near her. He asks why she is so upset. She
thinks he is the gardener, and asks him where the body is. He speaks – just a single
word; her name: “Mary”.
And in that split second she too “sees”: “Teacher!” she
cries out. She knew him in the speaking of her name.
It’s the greatest moment of your life when your eyes are
opened and you see Jesus yourself for who he really is: the crucified and risen
Son of God. Nothing can ever be the same again.
Has that yet happened to you?
That moment of revelation is both a gift – something
that happens to you – and a command – something you are told
to do: to believe, to put your faith in him. I don’t fully understand how to
marry those two things together: if something is a gift, how can it also
be something required? But experience shows that it is so.
We mustn’t use the fact that our eyes haven’t yet been
opened as an excuse, a cop-out. (In verses 25-26 Jesus chastises them for their
failure to see.) God calls us to see. And if he calls us to see, then we
needn’t doubt that he will make it happen.
Can you think of another couple in the Bible of whom it is
said that “their eyes were opened”? Sadly, in this case it was their downfall,
not their blessing: “they knew that they were naked”, and so they took steps to
cover their shame. Futile steps, of course. Yes, Adam and Eve right at the
beginning (Genesis 3:7).
The first creation went wrong. But now, on Easter Day, God
is giving birth to a new creation, a creation in which we are all invited to
have a part. Jesus is the new Adam, the second Adam, the victorious
Adam. (See how Paul opens this up in 1 Corinthians 15:45.)
Are you yet part of this wonderful new creation? Have your
eyes yet been opened? Simply pray with an open and humble heart…
Lord Jesus Christ, please open my eyes. Please
help me to see. Amen.
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