The account of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, as read in Saint Luke 24:13–35, is not only a consoling resurrection story; it is a luminous catechesis on how the risen Christ continues to be present in His Church. Saint Luke’s narrative shows a movement from sorrow to joy, from confusion to understanding, from blindness to recognition. At the heart of this movement stands a Eucharistic encounter. The Lord, risen from the dead, does not first appear in dazzling majesty, but as an unknown traveller who walks alongside two disheartened disciples. He approaches them in their grief, opens the Scriptures to them, and finally reveals Himself in the breaking of bread. This pattern – Word, Sacrament, Mission – is the very pattern of the Church’s liturgical and spiritual life.
The two disciples are walking away from Jerusalem, away from the place of the Passion, and, indeed, away from the centre of the Church’s emerging life. Their journey is one of disappointment. They had hoped that Jesus would redeem Israel in a visible and immediate way; His crucifixion seems to have shattered those hopes. Even the first reports of the empty tomb do not yet console them; instead, their hearts are clouded, and their understanding is veiled. This is often the state of the human soul when suffering strikes such as expectations unfulfilled, prayers seemingly unanswered, and a sense that God has failed to act according to our plans. The disciples’ departure from Jerusalem symbolises that interior movement by which a person withdraws into discouragement, unable to see the hidden work of God.
Into this sorrowful walking away, Christ Himself enters as a “stranger.” He does not reproach them at once; He draws near and walks with them. They do not recognise Him, not because His risen Body is unreal, but because their eyes are prevented from seeing, and their hearts are still dominated by their own understanding of events. The Lord asks them questions and listens to their recounting of His own Passion. This is a striking feature of the narrative – the One who knows all things invites them to speak, to pour out their confusion and pain. This shows that Christ does not silence our grief, nor does He treat our misunderstanding with contempt. He allows us to speak, to name our sorrow, and then He gently corrects and deepens our understanding.
After listening, the Lord begins to interpret the Scriptures to them, “beginning with Moses and all the prophets.” He does not provide them with a sentimental comfort or a shallow reassurance; instead, He reveals the divine necessity that “the Christ should suffer these things and enter into His glory.” Their hearts begin to burn within them as He opens the Scriptures. This burning is the interior testimony of the Holy Spirit, who confirms the truth of Christ’s teaching and gradually heals the distorted image of God they carry within. They had thought suffering incompatible with the Messiah; He shows that suffering is the path chosen by divine love. In this way, the Lord demonstrates that true faith is rooted in the Word of God rightly understood. The Church’s liturgy reflects this when, before approaching the altar, the faithful stand to hear the Scriptures proclaimed and explained. It is a necessary preparation, without which the mysteries remain obscure.
Even after this long exposition, the disciples still do not recognise Him by sight. Their hearts are stirred, but their eyes remain closed. Recognition awaits a sacramental moment. As they draw near to the village, they urge Him strongly to stay with them, “for it is towards evening.” This request is deeply significant. Their hearts, awakened by the Word, now move to desire His presence. They do not understand who He is, but they know they do not want Him to depart. Here we see the movement from understanding to devotion, from hearing to desire. The Church has taken up their plea, “Stay with us,” as a prayer addressed to Christ present in the Eucharist, especially in times of darkness and spiritual weariness.
The scene at table is described in terms that clearly recall the Last Supper and anticipate the Church’s Eucharistic practice. He takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them. These four actions encapsulate the Lord’s self-offering. He takes our humanity, blesses it by His obedience and holiness, breaks Himself open in sacrifice on the Cross, and gives Himself as food for the life of the world. It is at this moment – in the breaking of the bread – that their eyes are opened. The one whom they had perceived only as a wise stranger is now recognised as the risen Lord. The evangelist does not stress the appearance of Christ’s face or the sound of His voice; he emphasises the sacramental act. Recognition is not based on external features but on the encounter with Christ in a sacred action that He Himself had established.
Then, at once, He vanishes from their sight. This vanishing is not an abandonment; it is a transition. Christ withdraws from their physical sight in order to draw them into a deeper mode of presence. He remains with them, not as a visible traveller seated at their table, but in the mystery of the Eucharist, where He is truly given under the appearance of bread and wine. The disappearance of His physical form at the moment of recognition teaches us that the Church is not deprived by the absence of the visible Christ. Rather, she is entrusted with a more intimate communion. The faithful do not need to journey physically to Emmaus to meet the Lord; they approach the holy altar, where the same risen Christ is truly, substantially present.
The Emmaus event illustrates the unity of the Bible and the Eucharist. The Lord first opens the Scriptures; then He opens their eyes in the breaking of bread. This is precisely the structure of the Eucharistic celebration. There is first the proclamation of the Scriptures followed with an explination, so that hearts may be purified of error and readied for faith. Then follows the Eucharist, in which the same Christ, whose presence was heard in the Word, is now given in the sacramental mystery as the Bread of Life. The disciples’ experience thus becomes a kind of “model liturgy” that shows how the Church lives from both the table of the Word and the table of the Eucharist.
The Emmaus account speaks to the reality of Eucharistic presence. The Lord does not simply remind the disciples of Himself by breaking bread in a familiar way; He truly gives Himself. Their recognition is not only a recollection of the Last Supper; it is a present encounter with the living Christ who stands beyond death. The Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, has always understood that in the Eucharist, the risen Lord is not symbolically recalled but truly present. Under the humble appearances of bread and wine, He is wholly and entirely there – body, blood, soul, and divinity – offering Himself to the faithful as food and drink. The Emmaus story prepares our heart to accept this teaching, showing that the risen Christ wills to be known and received in a sacramental manner, veiled yet real.
Many believers, like the disciples on the road, experience seasons of disappointment, confusion, and spiritual weariness. They may feel as though they are walking away from the centre of their faith, weighed down by unanswered questions, losses, or scandals. The Emmaus narrative assures them that Christ does not wait for them to return in perfect clarity; He comes alongside them on the road. He asks for their trust, invites them to speak, and then gradually reorders their understanding through the light of the Scriptures. This emphasises the importance of returning again and again to the Word of God, not as a collection of religious sayings, but as the living testimony that reveals Christ’s identity and mission.
At the same time, the narrative points us back to the Eucharist as the place where our partial understanding is drawn into a deeper communion. We may hear sermons, read commentaries, and study theology – all of which are valuable – but there remains a recognition that is granted only in the breaking of the bread. In the Eucharist, Christ does not only speak to us; He gives Himself to us. He does not only enlighten the mind; He nourishes the soul. Even when our emotions are dry or our senses are unmoved, faith assures us that the risen Lord is truly present upon the altar and in the chalice. Just as the disciples’ eyes were opened not by a change in the bread itself that they could see, but by an interior grace, so the faithful are called to approach Holy Communion with a faith that looks beyond appearances to the reality of the Saviour’s presence.
The reaction of the disciples after this encounter is immediate and instructive. They rise at once and return to Jerusalem, despite the dangers and the lateness of the hour. The road that had been one of sorrow and retreat becomes, in reverse, the road of mission. They go back to the apostolic community to bear witness, “The Lord is risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon.” Their experience of the Word and the Eucharist does not lead them into a private spirituality, detached from the Church; it sends them back into communion with the other disciples. In the same way, authentic Eucharistic encounter always moves the believer towards the community, towards Apostolic faith, and towards witness. One who has truly met Christ in the breaking of bread will feel compelled to share the grace received and to build up the Body of Christ.
This offers a helpful examination for our own lives. Do we leave the Liturgy with the same urgency and joy that marked the disciples’ return to Jerusalem? Does our participation in the Eucharist send us back into our families, parishes, and workplaces with renewed charity, confidence, and courage? Or do we remain unchanged, as though nothing of consequence has taken place? The Emmaus story challenges us to recognise that the Eucharist is not an isolated devotional act; it is the heartbeat of the Church’s life, from which all authentic Christian mission flows. To receive Christ in Holy Communion is to accept a call to live as witnesses of His Resurrection, to bear Him into the world, and to interpret for others the meaning of suffering and hope in the light of the Gospel.
The disciples’ plea, “Stay with us, for it is towards evening,” remains the prayer of the Church in every age. The world appears as a landscape in which the light is fading, where faith seems weak and hope fragile. In such times, the Church turns again to her Eucharistic Lord and begs Him to remain. He answers this prayer by abiding with us in the tabernacle, by offering Himself upon the altar, and by dwelling within the hearts of those who receive Him worthily. In this way, the Emmaus encounter is not locked in the past. It is re-presented every time the Divine Liturgy is celebrated. Christ walks with His people, opens the Scriptures to them, and reveals Himself in the breaking of bread.
May each of us, then, place ourselves alongside those two disciples. Let us bring to Christ our own disappointments, wounds, and questions. Let us allow Him to correct us through the Scriptures, to purify our understanding of His ways, and to set our hearts aflame with love of the truth. Above all, let us approach the Eucharist with reverence and faith, convinced that the same Lord who vanished from the sight of the disciples now remains with us under sacramental signs. If we do so, our eyes will be opened again and again, and our hearts will be strengthened for the journey. Like the disciples of Emmaus, we shall be moved to rise, return to the heart of the Church, and proclaim with confidence that Christ is truly risen and continues to meet His people in the holy mystery of the Eucharist.
May God bless you +
Fr. Charles
16 November 2025