“Everyone knew it was impossible, until a fool who didn’t know came along and did it.” This quote, often attributed to Albert Einstein, highlights the idea that being unaware of limitations (or being “foolish” enough to disregard them) can lead someone to attempt what experts might dismiss. While many might automatically aspire to be “the fool” in this phrase, in reality, we often act like those who agree with what is deemed impossible. We tend to seek confirmation and reinforcement of our opinions rather than engaging with those who might challenge them. It’s particularly evident in today’s political and public discourse, as well as on social media, where individuals become increasingly entrenched in their positions and refuse to listen to others with an open mind. Trapped in their own echo chambers, they reinforce their belief that they are right and that everyone else is wrong.
We find something similar in the opening scene of today’s gospel, where the conversation of two individuals seemed to deepen their sense of being wronged. They were on their way out of Jerusalem, the place where they had hoped to see their dreams come true, only to find them shattered and subsequently filling the disciples with the dread of their own violent demise. When Jesus, unrecognised by them, who had overheard their chat, asked them, “‘What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?’ […] they stood still, looking sad.” Eventually, one of them, Cleopas, answered with a mix of frustration, irritation and anger: “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” It was a relatively polite way of saying “you must be really stupid to know nothing.” Jesus’ follow-up question, “What things?” effectively opened the floodgates and let their bitterness flow freely. I assume Cleopas was just repeating what he and his companion had been talking about before. The difference this time around was that his viewpoint wasn’t nodded through but challenged: “How foolish you are!” (NIV translation) At first glance, it looked like a modern-day social media exchange, but the difference was that firstly, Jesus didn’t stop there, and secondly, Cleopas and his friend kept listening.
They heard an alternative explanation of the whole affair that had so deeply saddened them: “Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” Jesus then travelled with them not just along the way but also through the Jewish Scripture, “beginning with Moses and all the Prophets [and] interpreted to them […] the things concerning himself.” This explanation cast a completely new light on their experience and must have sparked new hope in their hearts, so clearly indicated by their insistence on him staying with them when they reached their final destination. It eventually helped them recognise Jesus’ presence all along, when he broke the bread at the table, and it led them back to Jerusalem through the dark of night. In other words, their lives were turned around, and they were much better for it.
In our lives, it’s so easy to stew in our own anger, frustration, sense of injustice or slight and so on. Such feelings might be completely justified by the turn of events that caused them. Often, we look for someone to share our negative emotions with to confirm that we have been wronged and hurt; sometimes, we find a companion for our emotional stewing. It hardly ever leads to any positive solutions to the initial problems. At best, we quietly suffer for a long time; at worst, it can lead to escalation and, in extreme cases, to hurting those we blame for our misfortunes. We have all heard stories of so-called revenge porn or vengeful murders. A better way is to talk to someone who can listen to us and present a different perspective. One of the best moments for that is sacramental confession. Its purpose isn’t to make you feel bad about yourself, but to help you find better ways forward, like Cleopas and his friend, who, having found new hope and vision, ran through the night back to Jerusalem.
There’s another side to this story. We learned that the disciples didn’t recognise Jesus when he joined them on the road, nor did they recognise him for quite some time as he travelled with them. Recently, two people, independently of each other, thanked me on the same day for having a positive impact on their lives and claimed I was sent by God to help them. I felt extremely embarrassed because I knew I had really done nothing except being my highly imperfect self. I don’t doubt their feelings were genuine. It showed me that each one of us can bring light, joy, hope, faith and love to people’s lives in the name of Jesus when we try to live out what we believe, however imperfectly. A warning, though. When it happens, don’t ask AI to create an image of you as Jesus Christ.
Image by roymungez1 from Pixabay
