Too Much Is Too Much

Is it possible for us ever to have too much hope? Indeed, at times there seems to exist too much religious agitation, unrestrained fervor, wishful thinking, fanciful interpretations of the "signs of the times," too much certainty of what is going to happen when and how. It is a truism that too much of anything is just that—too much. Too much apple pie, too much sunshine, too much weight, even too much love (Women Who Love Too Much), trust (which fosters credulity), justice, and wisdom ("Do not be too righteous, and do not act too wise." Eccles. 7:16 NRSV). The price of harboring too much hope, zeal, excitement, and expectation (overanticipation) is disappointment, frustration, anger, and even loss of faith, if not life itself. Remember Jonestown and Waco?

Like many other followers of Jesus, the two disciples on the road to Emmaus firmly believed that Jesus was the long-expected Messiah who would liberate his people from the oppressive Roman yoke. "We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel" (Luke 24:21). The crucifixion of Jesus had shattered their hopes, destroyed their confidence, and left them bewildered and confused. Within just three days they moved from excitement to disappointment, from elation to despondency. They became victims of too much hope.

Too Little Is Not Enough

These disciples were among those—and there are many even today—who suffer from an acute, or even chronic, deficiency of hope. If too much hope produces disappointment, too little hope breeds despair. Without hope, there is no meaning, no energy for vibrant living, no motivation to right action, no dynamic personal future. Coming from the bustling city where they had first hailed their messianic king and then buried him in a grave, Jesus’ disciples returned home, withdrawing into solitude, shunning human company, trying to avoid the nagging questions of neighbors and friends. They did not want to face or to be faced by anyone, not even themselves. They exhibited the symptoms of people suffering from a lack of hope.

At first, they may have hardly noticed the stranger who walked beside them. Once they did, they probably wished he had not been there and, at least, had not talked. No questions, please! Even a conventional "How are you?" feels like salt or pepper poured into an open wound. But the stranger would not go away. With genuine empathy and high sensitivity, he engaged them in a conversation that lifted them out of despondency, overcame their lethargy, and restored hope and courage.

The Seven Miles to Emmaus

The distance between Jerusalem and Emmaus is about seven miles. Johnson Gnanabaranam, an Indian Christian, has combined textual exegesis and theological imagination to trace the seven stages involved in this two-hour trip from Jerusalem to Emmaus.1 It is a journey from utter despair to renewed hope, from serious doubt to firm belief. It may, perhaps, also be your walk, whether in the role of Cleopas or in the cloak of the unrecognized redemptive companion. (To get the whole story and see the full picture, read the entire passage in Luke 24:13–35.)

The First Mile—Heightened Interest: Naturally, Cleopas and his friend talk to each other about what had happened in Jerusalem. While they discuss these issues, a stranger comes near and walks with them. Facing the apparent senselessness of Jesus’ death, they look for an answer to the question: Why has all this happened? The two friends show deep interest in an explanation that will provide meaning to their painful and shattering experience.

The Second Mile—Meaningful Conversation: The stranger who joins them begins to engage them in the conversation. At first by asking questions and then by sharing his own views, he gradually builds a confident and positive relationship without which the two disciples would not be ready to accept the stunning explanation of the events given by the stranger-turned-friend. Answers to existential questions are rarely accepted outside a relationship of mutual trust and acceptance.

The Third Mile—Genuine Appreciation: As their conversation begins to get deeper, the two disciples share their inner feelings about the carpenter of Nazareth, the focus of their fervent hope and the cause of their deep disappointment. Saddened by the seeming ignorance, if not indifference, of their companion, they testify to their lingering faith in "Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people" (vs. 19). Although the gruesome fact and the ignominious manner of his death make their faith in Jesus, the Messiah, rationally untenable, they still want it to be true. Though the rumors of Jesus’ resurrection find responding cords in their hearts, they find them unproven and unbelievable.

The Fourth Mile—Decisive Insight: At this point, the story takes a decisive turn. Jesus himself takes the lead in the conversation, explaining to the speechless disciples the true meaning, and even necessity, of the crucifixion. Using Scripture as the only source and authority, he helps them understand what had seemed totally senseless and absurd to them. In this way, the disciples gain a crucial insight, which opens to them the door to a renewed faith in Jesus as Savior and risen Christ.

The Fifth Mile—Irresistible Fascination: When they reflect on this experience later that evening, they confess to each other their innermost feelings during these marvelous moments when their eyes were opened and their faith revived: "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the Scriptures to us?" (vs. 32). When faith and hope are reborn, the fire that had turned into ashes, reminiscent of an experience long past, is rekindled.

The Sixth Mile—Crucial Decision: Here the story could have ended—or so it seems. After all, it has reached a happy ending because the disciples have moved from deep despair to firm hope, from paralyzing doubt to new faith. However, to stop here is to miss the exciting climax of the disciples’ experience, to overlook the punch line of the whole story. Thus, we should continue reading to the end of the narrative. (This week’s Scripture reading ends with verse 25; it should rather read verse 35.)

"As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, ’Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.’ So he went in to stay with them" (vss. 28–29). There is a crucial moment of decision for everyone. Many people are fascinated by Jesus Christ but never invite him to stay. They admire him deeply, but do to let him be Lord of their life. He will gladly stay, but only if invited, indeed, urged to stay. Then, and only then, the real miracle happens.

The Seventh Mile—Personal Communion: "When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight" (vss. 30–31). At this unexpected moment of divine self-disclosure, the disciples finally recognize Jesus. Now their faith and hope are firmly grounded in the risen Christ. Free from false excitement and, at the same time, liberated from despair, they henceforth live joyfully in the presence of their unseen Lord.

Immediately after that overwhelming encounter, the two disciples return to Jerusalem and tell the others what had happened on the road and at their table. Their weariness is gone; their fatigue has disappeared. No one needs to ask them to tell the breaking news. After such an experience, witnessing is an inner must, the most natural thing to do. All one needs is a balanced, vibrant hope.

Notes and References

1. Johnson Gnanabaranam, Heute, mein Jesus (Erlangen: Verlag der Evangelisch-Lutherischen Mission, 1967), 24–25. I am indebted to this book for the "seven miles to Emmaus" discussed in this narrative.

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