Their hearts were on fire.
It seems like such a small detail in the story, but it
tells us everything.
The two disciples were walking away from Jerusalem and
everything connected to it: they were walking away from His teaching in the
Temple, the miracles in the porticos, the promises, the hope. Disappointment
was their road; heavy were their hearts. In fact, like the Bread, they were broken.
And yet.
In that moment of desolation, they are met by one whom they do
not recognize; one who listens to their plight, to their story, to their pain.
This One, having listened, does not simply comfort them in tones of “There, there.” Rather, He tells them to snap out of it—literally calling
them fools (how insulted we would be!)—and to ponder some
lessons from the past:
did not the prophets, too, endure great suffering? was not the Messiah,
too, foretold by them to suffer and to die? but didn’t the prophets also
promise the Messiah would rise? did not the Psalms promise eternal life from
the Father? was not Elijah carried up to heaven? And still you think that the
events in Jerusalem these past days are not part of the plan? Aren’t you
judging prematurely? Could it be possible that you are running away from the
most glorious moment in human history? Nothing awaits you in Emmaus, but you
may find Everything awaiting you in Jerusalem…
They were intrigued.
They were intrigued enough to want to hear more: “Stay
with us,” they tell him. They open their doors and welcome this stranger—a stranger in every way: a stranger in his appearance, a stranger in his message. A stranger who does not simply comfort hearts, but who knocks on them.
He knocked on
their hearts.
He is knocking on yours in these days.
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The disciples opened. It was a grand re-opening! They welcome this stranger and make
him a guest. That transition, to turn a stranger into a guest is called hospitality. It comes from the Latin, hospes / hospitalis, and it is the same
word from which we derive the English word: hospital.
The hospital is the place where the stranger is welcomed
and cared for—for the cure of his body.
Hospitality, on the other hand, cures the heart of the
host who makes a stranger into a welcomed guest.
The two disciples on their Road to Emmaus, in their
moment of desolation and suffering, stop, and provide “hospital”—if even out of
intrigue—to the One who had suffered on the Cross; He, in turn, provides the
Divine Physician’s healing to their souls. The Medicine of which is the
Eucharist.
Their hearts, once cold, now burn with fire.
(As an aside, these same words are used after the completion
of the First Reading. Peter is telling the Jewish people about how Jesus is the
fulfillment of all the Promises. And it says that, in response, they were “cut
to the heart.” A surgeon’s blade. Cut to the heart. And they turn and repent
and three thousand began to follow Peter that very day. It was Pentecost: the
day of the Holy Spirit’s fire. Do you see? Their
hearts now burned).
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I am so convicted that these words are meant for us, dear
friends. Our Lord Jesus wants to use this time in your life to heal you, to
turn you around, to place your feet in the right direction on the right road,
and to set your hearts on fire. To have a grand re-opening of your hearts!
He wants to deepen in you a desire that pants for His
presence, that longs for it, starves for it—believes it, runs towards it.
This fire can only be given if you open your heart and
your home to it. Hospitalis.
Hope and joy will only be afforded you if you give
hospitality—hospital—to the unrecognized Jesus: if you allow Him, a stranger, to become a welcomed Guest.
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Oh! How foolish we are! How slow to believe…!
Do you not know that there is an Unrecognized Guest at your every meal; there
is a Stranger present at your every family gathering; there is a Promise at
your rising and at your resting; there is a Messiah knocking, knocking…
So easy to ignore, a knock so easily drowned out by our
distractions and by our pride: I am not
foolish! I am not like those who were on the Road to Emmaus!
Oh, we all are!
But that’s okay. We all run to Emmaus sometimes. But be
like the disciples who, while on that Road, where humbled and yet hospitable.
Hear the words of the First Encyclical from our first
Pope, Saint Peter. Hear what he says: “Beloved… conduct yourselves with
reverence during the time of your sojourning…”
That is to say: as you are on this road of life, have a
heart that is open at all times to the visit of your Messiah, Jesus Christ.
Always have Him in mind. Hope in His Coming. Rejoice in His presence.
Remember, that’s from a man, Peter, who knew how to run away—and he
did—but he also learned how to run toward. When he heard the tomb was empty, he
ran towards it.
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How is our Lord calling you to run towards Him now? Are
there places in your daily life where He is knocking, but you are ignoring Him?
Are you wasting time and grace that He is giving you? Have you let the desire
for Him in your heart grow cold? Are you worried about conversations in our
culture and what lies ahead?
Open your heart and your home to Him again. Run with
hearts on fire for our Lord! This is where you will find healing. This is the time of hospitalis.
