Cleopas' Story
recorded by Geoff Robinson
(scroll down for some questions for reflection at the end of the story)
What stays with me from that day was the way that my heart was burning within me as Jesus spoke to us; every single word hit home and changed… no, not changed… expanded… yes, expanded my understanding in a way it never had before. I was like a blind man seeing clearly for the first time.
There was more than one resurrection on that day. Jesus came back from the dead, and so did my hope for the future. The day started full of grief, and confusion, and despair… but it ended with joy, and understanding, and, most importantly, hope.
A week earlier, we’d entered Jerusalem as conquering heroes, and the future was full of all we had hoped for… but so much changed, and seven days later, we were in hiding.
Hiding because we were afraid of reprisals from the authorities, hiding because we were ashamed that we hadn’t been there for Jesus, and hiding because we were confused and unsure. We’d been so certain that Jesus was the Messiah, we couldn’t understand why it all went wrong… how it had come to this?
The grief and pain of Friday, and the shame and recriminations of Saturday, were then compounded by the confusion of what happened on that Sunday morning.
During the course of the sabbath, a number of us had congregated in the upper room; the place where Jesus shared his last supper with the Twelve. My wife, Mary, and I had helped John to bring the mother of Jesus back there on the Friday afternoon. In part we’d stayed there because we somehow didn’t want to believe that it was all over… but also, after the events of Friday, we didn’t want to stand out as travelling on the sabbath. It seemed a good place to hide until it was safe to move unnoticed. Ten of the apostles and some of the men and women from the 72 were drawn there too.
The women went out early on that Sunday morning and then returned about an hour later. They banged on the door to be let in, and then, as they gasped for breath, they poured out their tale that the stone had been rolled away, the tomb was empty, and they couldn’t find the body.
I’m ashamed to say that we dismissed what they said as nonsense. I’d like to say I was gentle in that, but we were all hurting and ashamed and angry, and I lashed out telling them that they were deranged by grief, and that they’d probably just gone to the wrong tomb. I immediately knew I was wrong to have spoken in that way… even before Mary, my wife, looked me straight in the eye and said, with a hard edge in her voice, ‘Would you like to re-phrase that?’
I muttered an apology, made some feeble excuse about being tired, and walked away to nurse an extra layer of shame that was now added to the rest that I was carrying.
Peter and John gave them enough credit to go and check on the tomb, and they came back confirming that it was empty, and that there was no sign of Jesus’ body.
A short while later Mary Magdalene burst into the room, excitedly proclaiming that she had seen Jesus. It just wasn’t credible. I knew Jesus had been killed, he couldn’t be alive. But her story made us all want to go out and look again.
About 15 of us furtively left the upper room, went out through the Gennath gate, and spent some time searching the area around the tomb. I remember the hairs on my neck standing up as I looked into the tomb and saw the grave clothes lying there. It didn’t make sense. If someone had taken the body, then why stop to unwrap the grave clothes first?
After about an hour of fruitless searching, Joanna came to tell us that she’d heard rumours being spread by the Romans that some of Jesus’ followers had taken his body. ‘You need to be careful,’ she said, ‘They have instructions to arrest you and find out what you’ve done with Jesus.’
‘Maybe it was the temple guards?’ I speculated, ‘Maybe Caiaphas has some strange ideas about using the body in some way to discredit Jesus?’
‘Unlikely,’ John replied, ‘The Sadducees and Pharisees wouldn’t want to defile themselves by having anything to do with a dead body… But maybe Herod would do something like this.’
‘Herod will be heading back to Galilee soon.’ Joanna said, ‘When we get there, I could ask my husband if he’s heard anything. As the manager of Herod’s household, he’ll soon hear if something odd was being planned.’ Herod Antipas normally lived up in Galilee, he’d only come to Jerusalem for the Passover. We were grasping at straws, but we agreed that Joanna should make some enquiries and get word to us if she heard anything.
Wary of the soldiers that might be searching for us, we split up and went into Jerusalem via different gates; so that we wouldn’t stand out as we headed back to the upper room.
‘You can’t find the body because he is alive!’ I’d never seen Mary Magdalene so animated. Her belief that she’d met with Jesus was unwavering. Her description of the event was compelling… but it was just not possible. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’ She asked.
‘Mary… I’d love that it was true, but people don’t come back from the dead.’ John said gently, ‘Alright, Jesus raised some people from the dead, but how is he going to do that if he’s dead himself?’
‘Fine.’ Mary frowned, then smiled, ‘You’ll see. I’m confident that in time, you’ll see. In the meantime, I’m going to the temple to pray and give thanks.’ And she left with a smile on her face, and a lightness in her step that underlined her conviction that she was right.
It was easier to talk when she’d gone.
‘Joanna’s news makes it difficult to ask around about the body,’ Peter said, ‘They’re looking for us, and we might face the same fate as Jesus. Any more ideas about what could have happened?’
Then I remembered that my father had a cousin who was very senior among the Temple guards. He was no friend of the Romans, and I could ask my father to speak with him, maybe he would know something.
I suggested this to the group, and they agreed it was worth trying. I knew that there was only a vague possibility that this could lead to some more information, but I didn’t have any other ideas. Even if we learnt nothing more, going home felt right. All hope of a revolution was gone, and there was little to keep us in Jerusalem.
We had hoped to be going back home at the beginning of a new era; we’d hoped to arrive as proud and conquering heroes, having been part of vanquishing the Romans and re-establishing the Kingdom of Israel… Instead, we would be sneaking home having been part of a failed movement. Yes, it had been an amazing journey… we’d seen so much and learnt so much… but in the end, it was all for nothing.
How could this have happened? It just didn’t make sense.
John had some contacts in Caiaphas’ household, and he said he’d make some enquires too. We said our goodbyes and told John that we’d let him know if we heard anything. We spoke like we’d be coming back, but in my heart, I wondered if we would just fall back into our old lives and never see them again.
With our heads covered, and carrying our burdens of grief and confusion, we left the upper room, made our way through Jerusalem, and slipped out of the Gennath Gate for the second time that day.
It had been over two years since we’d left home to find and follow Jesus. My father’s farm was on the trade route to and from Joppa on the coast. Whilst that benefited us in terms of easy access to trade with the rest of the Roman Empire, it also meant we were on the route for soldiers coming to and from Jerusalem. So, on top of the regular taxes, there was the extra ‘protection’ money that needed to be paid to the soldiers.
Like all farmers, and other artisans, we got good at avoiding some of the taxes by hiding part of what we produced. That gave us enough to survive, and in some years enough to be comfortable… at least, more comfortable than many people we knew. However, tax avoidance was a dangerous game, and whilst they couldn’t prove it, the local soldiers knew we were hiding something… So, they kept demanding more protection money.
Mary and I had left home shortly after a visit from one of the centurions. He’d swaggered around the farm, come into our home, broken a few pots, and made veiled threats about what accidents could happen to my sister and to Mary, my wife. My older brothers were working out on the farm, but Mary and I were there, together with my father. If he hadn’t sensed my mood, and spoken up quickly, then I would have been foolish enough to have launched myself at the centurion. No doubt that would have ended badly for me, but I was so angry that I couldn’t think. After he’d gone, my father sat me down and explained, as he’d done so many times before, that we had to play the game if we wanted to survive.
At that time, word of what Jesus was doing in Galilee had spread as far as Emmaus and beyond. The whispers were that this strange itinerant rabbi might be the long-awaited Messiah! The stories of the miracles he was performing, and the crowds that were gathering around him, fuelled our hope that he could be the one to rid us of the Romans. With all the tensions in the area, and my short temper, my father thought that I may be better off away from the farm for a while. He suggested that I should go and see what I could learn about this Jesus.
Mary spoke up, and made it clear that she would be going with me. She said she wasn’t going to stay behind whilst I went looking for the Messiah. ‘Anyway,’ she’d said. ‘With your temper, you’ll need me around to keep you out of trouble.’
When Mary sets her mind on something there’s no changing it. She was, and is, a force of nature, and I am so grateful that she was there with me over the two and a half years we followed Jesus.
We’d set off with high hopes, and whilst what we found wasn’t what we expected, we could see that God was with Jesus in powerful ways. We were certain that he was the Messiah. Jesus accepted women as disciples, as well as men, and we joined with the large group that followed him. Mary made firm friends among the other women, and we both helped in any way we could. We were hungry to learn, willing to work, and did whatever we were asked.
The miracles were something to behold, and sign enough that God was with Jesus, but when he spoke you could feel the power in almost every word. I can’t adequately put into words the impact of his teaching… I didn’t always fully understand what he said, but every word seemed to feed my soul. The bread of life… one time he said that he was the bread of life and that whoever came to him wouldn’t be hungry. That was what it was like when I heard him teach, it was like bread nourishing my soul.
And then, when he looked at you… when he looked at you with those eyes that seemed to see right into your heart… then you knew… you knew you were held, and were known, and were loved. He never judged, he never condemned, his gaze was always full of compassion and love.
And then… And then there was his laughter. That might seem like an odd thing to highlight, but his laughter seemed to transform the world around him. He was full of this deep joy, and when he laughed, I would get caught up in the moment and know his joy myself. If I was asked to describe him in one word, it would be joyful. He literally was full of joy! That was not at all what we were expecting from the Messiah.
After so much pain and frustration, after a lifetime of waiting, after feeling like God had abandoned our nation to its plight, after all that was wrong in the world… finally hope was stirring in our hearts. The more we were around him the more that hope grew. I knew that Jesus was the hope of all Israel.
Looking back, I can see that things began to change about a month or so before we started moving towards Jerusalem. His normally joyful nature became tinged with sadness. I didn’t notice this at the time because I was too excited that we were all finally headed towards Jerusalem. Over those 2 and a half years, Jesus had been to Jerusalem a few times, either on his own, or with just a few of the Twelve. But now we were all going… together… all of us… this was different!
I knew that this had to be it… this was the time when God would come in glory, Jesus would be made king, and the Romans would learn not to tangle with the Kingdom of Israel. All we’d hoped for when we left home was going to become a reality!
I’d seen my father on that Sunday as we arrived in Jerusalem. He’d heard that Jesus was coming, and along with so many others, came to greet him. He saw us walking near to Jesus and, somehow, Mary had picked him out in the crowd. We’d waved to each other, and his pride in us was written all over his face.
We had hoped… we had hoped that this was it, that he was God’s Messiah… we had been so sure…
And now we were headed home, two and a half years after we left, with nothing to show for it… Jesus was dead, his followers were scattered, his body had been stolen, the Romans were still with us, and now, as a follower of Jesus, I was a wanted man.
We walked in silence for a few minutes. As we came close to Golgotha, we could see some soldiers looking around, obviously searching the area. We kept our heads down, turned left towards Emmaus and neither of us spoke until we’d put at least a hundred paces between us and that place.
Mary spoke first, ‘What went wrong?’ she asked, ‘It all seemed so certain… I really believed that this was it.’
‘We all did.’ I shrugged, ‘I don’t know what to say, I don’t understand it either… I mean, if you look at all that he did… at all that we did… the things we did in his name, when he sent us out to heal and proclaim the kingdom… it just doesn’t make sense. We… we were meant to be the heroes of Israel, doing mighty deeds of power with our God… but look at us now.’
There was a pause, and then Mary gave a short laugh.
I asked her what was so funny, and she replied, ‘I was remembering what happened that first time you did a “mighty deed of power”.
Jesus had sent us on ahead of him with about 70 others, both men and women, and told us to proclaim that the Kingdom of God was near, and to heal the sick. We went in pairs, and Mary and I went together as husband and wife. It’s one thing to watch Jesus and the Twelve praying for healing, but incredibly scary when doing it yourself.
‘Do you remember what happened that first time you prayed for healing?’ she said smiling. ‘You were pale and shaking, and could hardly get the words out. I wondered if the sick man should have been praying for you!’
I smiled as I thought back to that time. Mary continued, ‘When that festering wound healed before our very eyes, you screeched, jumped back, and fell over!... like you’d been attacked by a snake! I thought you’d fainted!’
We laughed together, ‘We have seen and done some incredible things,’ I said, ‘but that makes it even harder to understand where it all went wrong. I had such hope, and now… now I feel completely lost.’
We started talking over everything that had happened in the previous week, looking for the moments we thought things may have started to change, and trying to work out who may have taken his body. We were so deep in conversation that we didn’t notice someone had started walking alongside us.
‘What are you discussing?’ he asked, causing us both to jump.
We stopped. I was initially concerned that it was one of Pilate’s soldiers that had sneaked up on us… But this man was just wearing ordinary traveller garb with a hood to ward off the heat of the sun.
‘How can you not know the things that have taken place in Jerusalem over these last few days?’ I asked.
‘What things?’ he asked, turning back towards the way we’d been travelling and gesturing that we should continue walking, ‘I’ve a long way to go, but if we talk as we walk, then I can learn about it.’
So, as we walked along, we shared everything had happened, not just in the last week, but everything since we’d first met Jesus. We shared all that we had hoped for, and all that we felt was lost. We shared our confusion, and hurt, and grief. Through all this he listened carefully, occasionally asking for some clarification, and often asking, ‘How did that make you feel?’
I remember being surprised that we were so unguarded in speaking with this stranger… we’d been afraid to openly ask questions in Jerusalem for fear of reprisal from the authorities, and suddenly we were pouring our hearts out to someone we’d never met before.
Finally, we dried up, and felt that there was nothing more to say.
We walked on in silence for about a minute, and then he spoke so softly that I only just caught what he said, ‘Why are people so slow to understand? Why are they so lost in their own worldview, that they can’t see what is right before their eyes?’
Then, he gently laughed, ‘Don’t you believe all that the prophets have spoken? Why can’t you see that this had to happen? It’s clear that the Messiah had to suffer all these things. How foolish you are!’
I remember being shocked by his words, but he got our attention. I opened my mouth to object, but before I could say anything he continued, ‘Let me explain.’
And for the next hour, as we walked along the road, he went through the scriptures pointing out all that was said about the Messiah, explaining how these things had been foretold and why they had to happen; how they showed God’s incredible love and forgiveness, and how they were a new beginning for the whole world.
I can’t remember all the details of what he said… I’m not a scholar… but I remember the way that my heart felt. I remember how every word resonated deep inside me, and… most importantly… how my hope… the hope that had died with the crucifixion just 3 days before… how that hope came alive again!
The despair and confusion that had dominated the last 2 days, gave way to that growing hope, and my heart was on fire with every word he spoke.
All that he shared, left me wanting to hear more. I was like a parched man in a desert that had stumbled across an oasis and couldn’t stop drinking. More than drinking… I… I wanted to dive in!
We reached my father’s farm on the outskirts of Emmaus, and he went to carry on towards the town.
‘Wait!’ I could hear the urgency in my voice, ‘Please… please come and stay with us… I … I want to hear more.’ I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the hope that had started stirring in my heart again.
He smiled, ‘I have places to go, and people to see.’
‘But it’s almost evening,’ Mary joined in my pleas, ‘Why not eat and stay with us, please let us offer you hospitality, I know Cleopas’ father would be as eager as we are to hear what you have to say.’
Smiling even wider, he agreed and the three of us made our way to my father’s home.
My father greeted us with a sad and serious face. News of the events of Friday had reached him, and he was expecting us to be crestfallen. Instead, he was surprised at how animated we were. I could see that he was desperate to ask questions, but didn’t feel able to speak freely in front of a stranger.
The table was set for dinner, and they were just about to start. Three more places were quickly laid, and we sat down with the rest of my family. My father asked our guest if he would say the blessing. ‘It would be my pleasure’ he responded. He took the bread, gave thanks to God, broke it, and began to give it to us.
We’d shared so many meals with Jesus over these last years, and as he prayed the familiar words, I suddenly recognised his voice! It was that voice that had evoked such hope in my heart!
I looked up from prayer and saw that he’d thrown back his hood…
It was Jesus!
A younger Jesus than I’d known before. The lines on his face were gone, but he had the same voice, the same eyes… eyes that were then carrying a mischievous twinkle. Whilst he may have been younger, I noticed that the hands that held the bread carried wounds from the nails of the cross.
My mouth fell open… Jesus had been with us the whole time! No wonder our hearts were on fire. As he spoke, the bread of life had been feeding our souls, soothing our grief, and reviving our hope.
It took fractions of a second for this to all sink in. Then Jesus smiled one of his joyful, broad smiles, winked and disappeared leaving us full of awe and wonder.
With hope burning again in our hearts, we got up from the table without eating, gave our apologies and rushed back to Jerusalem to tell the others.
Thoughts/questions for reflection:
How did this story make you feel?
Were there things in the story that jarred, or resonated with you? Why is that?
Looking back on our lives, all of us will remember times of struggle and times of joy; times when everything seemed dark and times of brilliant light; times when all hope seemed lost and times when our cup overflowed.We are living through a time of significant change and uncertainty, and for so many people things have not gone as they would have hoped. COVID-19 is still causing problems, there are increasing political tensions between East and West, there are concerns over the rise of the far right in many countries, and, on top of all this, the longer-term threats to the environment. All that is before we get to the many personal losses and challenges that people are having to cope with.
We are living through a time, where hope seems in short supply.
However, there have been times of great upheaval like this in the past, times when all things looked very dark… but there have always been signs of hope.
What things have you seen over recent times that are moments of light in the darkness? What might give people hope at this time?
Too often we can go through life so consumed by our hopes and fears, by our agenda, our plans, our perspectives, our selves, that we fail to recognise Christ with us… that we fail to see Christ in the people we meet and the people that journey alongside us.
Who have been the people that have walked alongside you and given you strength and hope through the challenges of life?
We all experience big and small Emmaus moments in our lives, times of revelation and new beginnings.
Looking back - What have been the times when your eyes were opened, where your heart was burning and when you’ve found new hope?
Three things that I’ve found helpful in times when there seems little hope:Gratitude – take time each day to pause and look back on the day for something for which you can be truly grateful. It might only be something small, but make time to pause and remember it.
Bless others – not just by praying for them, but bless them by giving them a smile, sending them a card, or an encouraging email, text or message. As we take our eyes off ourselves and do this, then it not only helps others, but lights a spark of hope in our heart too.
Bring it to God in prayer. Prayer is about a lot more than just asking. Sometimes prayer is just about being, about resting and unburdening, about sharing our hearts with Jesus, who walks alongside us on our journey.
Have you tried these, or other ideas? What things have you found most helpful?
Jesus is with us on our journey, and he will never leave us. He’s with you as you read this:
As he walks with you through this season of Easter, what do you want to share with him?
As he asks you. ‘What's happened?’ and ‘How did that make you feel?’
What do you want to share with him?
What hurts or losses, what griefs or fears lie heavily on your heart?
What hopes have been lost… or perhaps found?
If everything is great in your life at this time, then just take a moment to say thank you.
Pause for a moment in reading this, know that Jesus is with you and share with him what’s on your heart.
A prayer to finish:
Father, help us to recognise Jesus with us…
In the beauty of the world around us
In the silence and stillness
In the family and friends who support us
In our busyness
In all the joys and challenges of life
Help us to be aware that Christ walks alongside us, not only in Spirit, but also in the people that journey with us
Help us to share those things on our hearts, and to listen to what you are sharing from your heart
Help our eyes and heart be opened afresh every waking moment…
that we would know the risen Christ walking with us…
that we would be sure of the hope that we have in You.
Amen
Ignatian imaginative contemplation on this passage
The background and the story help provide a window for you to look again at the passage for yourself. If you want to go deeper:
Ask God to speak to you through the passage
Slowly read the Bible passage again
Visualise yourself as one of the characters (Cleopas, his companion, his father, or even Jesus), or as an observer. You might work through the whole passage, or just sit with a certain scene within it.
Pay attention to the details of the scene; what do you see, hear and smell?
Notice what you feel as you immerse yourself in the passage.Again, ask God what he wants you to take away from this.
You might like to note any thoughts or feelings in a journal before moving on to the next chapter.
Subscribe to get these reflections emailed directly to your inbox