Christ the King Epiphany Church, Wilbraham

The Rev. Martha S. Sipe

April 19, 2026 / Third Sunday after Easter

Luke 24:14-35

Two disciples encountered the Risen Lord on the road to Emmaus on Easter evening.  One was named Cleopas.  The other was not named.  Some have hypothesized that the unnamed companion of Cleopas was actually his wife.  There’s really no way to prove or disprove this theory.  But for the next 10 minutes or so, I’m asking you to accept that Cleopas’ unnamed companion was his wife.   And I’m asking you to imagine that Cleopas’ wife wrote a letter home to her family on Easter Monday.  This is how I imagine that letter might have sounded.

Dear kids,

I know you were expecting your dad and me to stay home with you in Emmaus for a while after you heard the news about Jesus’ death.  You probably heard us arrive home from Jerusalem last evening right around supper time.  You probably even saw the light in our windows as we lit the lamps and sat down for supper.  I even suspect that you might have dropped by with the grandkids to check on us after you finished your own meal, but even if you didn’t, you’ve undoubtedly realized by now . . . we’re not home.  Again.  We’re sorry for leaving in such a rush without even taking the time to tell you.  And I know how much you worry over your “old” parents (needlessly, I might add).  Our behavior probably does seem alarming so I thought maybe I’d better write to explain why it is that we’re back in Jerusalem again.

I know you always tell me I draaaggg out stories, so let me get right to the point:  Jesus is alive!  Yes, you read that correctly.  He is alive.  I know all the news reports had him dead and buried – and that wasn’t fake news.  He really did die on a cross.  Some of the Galilean women saw his body laid out in the tomb, and in fact they were headed back to the tomb yesterday morning to finish taking care of his body.  But his body was gone, and instead of seeing Jesus’ dead body, they saw angels!  With a message that he had risen.  Well, those women rushed right back to tell the apostles and the rest of us – but no one really believed them.  It seemed too good to be true.  Well, let me be honest here.  Your father wouldn’t like me saying this, but I sort of believed the women.  It was the men in the room who thought the women were just being hysterical.  In fact, it was right after they got back with this fantastic tale that Dad told me to pack up our stuff.  We were going home.

So we set out mid-afternoon, hoping to arrive back in Emmaus before dark.  It was slow going because we were so tired, worn out from our grief and disappointment about what seemed at the time like the end of the Jesus movement.  We were trudging along, talking about everything that had happened, when all of a sudden, a stranger overtook us and started walking with us.   It was a little alarming, really, because he appeared out of nowhere and inserted himself into our conversation, asking us what we were talking about.  I was a little reluctant to say much.  I mean, we didn’t know who this guy was.  He could have been connected to the Sanhedrin.  Or he could have been a Roman informant.  And if we identified ourselves as followers of Jesus, who knew what the repercussions might be!  Even the leaders of our little band were locked away in our upstairs meeting room in Jerusalem for fear that the same thing would happen to them as happened to Jesus.  But your father – I really don’t know what got into him.  You know how he is – how it’s hard sometimes to get more than two or three words out of him?  Not yesterday with this stranger.  He started talking . . . about everything:  about Jesus and how great he was, and about our leaders and how they badly they acted, and about how disappointed we were because we thought he was the one who was going to rescue our homeland from the stinkin’ Romans, and about the women finding the empty tomb, and about how others went looking for Jesus and couldn’t find him . . . he told the whole story!  Your father.  The man who sometimes goes a whole day without saying more than a few sentences!

Well, when Dad finally stopped talking, the stranger said something odd.   He said we were “slow of heart.”  I didn’t really know what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a positive thing, and I felt a little put.  But then he started talking about Moses and the prophets and – he really was quite learned, this stranger.  And a good speaker, too.  Very eloquent.  I felt myself really drawn to his words, even though I still had no idea who he was.

Anyway, our conversation ate up the hours of our journey, and we reached Emmaus just as the sun was getting pretty low to the horizon.  Obviously, this stranger was no threat to us, and I didn’t like the thought of him traveling on in the dark, so we prevailed upon him to stay with us for the evening.  This was about the time you would have seen the lamps being lit in our house.  Now since we had been in Jerusalem for a while, there wasn’t much in the house to eat, but we found some bread and dried fruits and whatnot in the pantry and we apologetically laid it out to share.  And as the stranger picked up the bread and said the blessing . . . pow!  We realized who he was.  It was Jesus!  And poof!  As soon as we recognized him, he disappeared.  Suddenly, it all made sense.  This is why the stranger knew so much about our faith.  This is why he called us “slow of heart” – because we didn’t know who he was.  This is why our hearts were burning within us as we listened to him talk.  We were walking and talking with the Lord!

And immediately, we knew what we had to do.  We had to return to Jerusalem to tell the others that we had seen Jesus.  We couldn’t wait – not even for a minute, and certainly not until morning.  It’s hard to explain the urgency we felt.  We just snuffed out the lamps, pulled the front door closed, and set out again toward Jerusalem.  Now I know, I know – that must seem like an incredibly rash decision to you.  I can just imagine what you’re saying to each other – “Mom and Dad are getting so unpredictable in their old age.  They’re making bad decisions.  It’s just not safe for the two of them to be out on the road in the middle of the night.  What were they thinking?  Is it time to have the conversation about them moving in with us?”  And maybe we should have that conversation when we get home, if only so we could spend more time with you and our grandkids.  But I guess it’s true that all’s well that ends well.  We arrived back in Jerusalem safely, just before midnight.  Our feet ached, that’s for sure.  Fourteen miles is a lot of mileage on your sandals for one day.  But even though our feet hurt, our hearts were soaring.  And everyone was excited to hear our news, and to share that weren’t the only ones who had seen Jesus that day.  He really and truly is arisen from the dead.

Well, I’d better wrap this up.  I want to send this by messenger today so that you don’t worry for too long.  I know you might not understand all that I have written.  It might take a while for you to process it all.  You, too, might be “slow of heart” to believe, even as we were.  But that’s okay.  We’ll be back in a couple of days, and we’ll go over all we’ve experienced with Jesus as much as we need to because we really want you to believe in him the way we do.  Actually, I think that’s what your dad and I are supposed to do – in truth, what we’re all supposed to do:  walk alongside of others as Jesus walked with us, and share our experiences of Jesus’ love patiently and persistently until everyone knows his presence in their lives.  Because life in him is the best life we could ever hope for.

Now I really have to end this letter.  As you can see, I’m running out of room on my wax tablet.  So kiss my beautiful grandchildren for me.  And if you have a chance, could you please water my houseplants?

Love you all,

Mom