Jesus makes an unscheduled visit to a small town three hours away from Jerusalem. Two disciples somberly walk back to Emmaus; they had big expectations, and events did not go as planned; now, they are questioning their faith.
Jesus drew near and walked with them. As a God who finds time to meet me on the least expected street and imposes no rhythm, He adapts to mine. The speed and cadence are okay for Him.
He poses one question, which causes them to cascade all the broken hopes and expectations that died hanging on a cross.
Then, the liturgy of the word began: beginning with Moses and the prophets, his words became life to them; he explained that the Cross is not an accident but fullness. And the two discover the immense truth: they see a God who, so hidden as to seem absent, weaves the golden thread in the world, starting from the darkest point, the Cross. Now they know that the more hidden God’s hand seems, the more powerful it is.
Then the liturgy of the bread on the house table began: they recognized him in “the breaking of the bread.” Yes, because one Thursday, at sunset, Jesus had spoken divine words over some bread and wine: take and eat. This is my body. It is the Whole of me, down to the last fiber and the last wound. It is for you. The Cross was not the end, only the dawn of eternal love.
