Two companions are walking down a long road from Jerusalem to Emmaus when they’re met by a friend they mistake for a stranger. The mistaken stranger asks why they look sad. The companions tell him that they their hopes were dashed at the death of a friend they thought might be the one who would change everything.
The three continue their journey together and when they get to Emmaus the not-really-a-stranger indicates that he is going on farther. The two friends invite him to join them for dinner. He accepts. The table is set, the meal is prepared, and this stranger takes bread, gives thanks, and breaks it.
And it is in this breaking of the bread that they recognize him.
Sometimes you need to open your eyes to see meaning in the mundane, the divine in the daily, and the sacred in the face of what seems like a stranger.
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Words: Jim Kast-Keat
Image: Jim Kast-Keat
Music: Podington Bear
