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Praying about the flow of time: Guests and hosts on the road to Emmaus

Lynne Baab • Tuesday May 6 2025

Praying about the flow of time: Guests and hosts on the road to Emmaus

On the day of Jesus’s resurrection, a disciple named Cleopas and another person — perhaps a friend, a sibling, or Cleopas’s wife — left Jerusalem before news of the resurrection reached them. Both of them had been eager followers of Jesus, and they walked home to Emmaus disconsolate and discouraged because Jesus had died. A stranger on the road joined their discussion, asking them why they were sad. They told him about Jesus, their hopes about his kingdom, and the dashing of those hopes at his crucifixion. The stranger, extremely well-versed in Jewish history and the Hebrew scriptures, told them his perspective about the life and work of the Messiah.

When Cleopas and his companion reached their home in Emmaus, they invited the stranger in for a meal. When the visitor broke bread at the table and blessed it, they knew instantly that this was Jesus, now resurrected and still alive. After their moment of recognition, he vanished. They thought back to the conversation on the road and realized the thrill of hearing him explain his own mission in his own words. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32; the whole story is in Luke 24:13-35, and I wrote last week about the "hearts burning" part of this story).

These disciples invited a stranger into their home for a meal. They were the hosts, the ones who asked him in, but at the table, this guest turned things upside down. The stranger broke the bread and blessed it, becoming the host. Christians who study hospitality call this “the guest-host switch.”

Mother Teresa brought this shift to the world’s attention when she talked about meeting Jesus in the poor, sick, and dying to whom she ministered. I can remember, back in the 1990s, feeling befuddled the first time I heard someone quote Mother Teresa about this. Meeting Jesus in someone we are helping seemed like such a strange idea. When we help people in need, aren’t we — the helpers — the ones who are acting like Jesus and representing him? How can the opposite be true?

Later, in the early 2000s, when Christians began writing about the theological significance of hospitality, Mother Teresa’s ideas began to make more sense to me. I began to see the connections with Matthew 25. In verses 31 to 34, Jesus describes a scene where the Son of Man separates people into two categories, and the ones who are placed at Jesus’ right hand hear these words:

 “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me” (verses 34-36).

The people at Jesus’ right hand ask when they gave food, drink, or a welcome to him. Jesus replies: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (verse 40).

When we host people in our homes for meals or extend a welcome of any kind to another person, we can expect that we might meet Jesus in that person. And if we are meeting Jesus in someone else, then that person, in effect, becomes the host because Jesus is the King and Lord of all.

Why does this matter? Extending care to another person has the tendency to promote the carer to a position of prominence. After all, we often say, “It’s better to give than to receive.” If I’m doing the giving, caring, or welcoming, then I’m the generous one. I’m the one whose life is together enough that I have the resources to extend a helping hand. I’m not needy or vulnerable or weak. Look at me, I’m strong! Look at how wonderful I am!

Jesus turns this upside down.

Like Cleopas and his companion, Christian individuals and congregations today are increasingly exploring ways to provide hospitality. As we offer hospitality, we meet Jesus, who is present in friend and stranger.

Hospitable God, you invite us to extend to others the rich welcome that you have extended to us. As we offer hospitality to others, enable us to meet you there. Help us see the ways that those we host actually host us because they bless us in so many ways. By your resurrection power, you have turned the world upside down. We want to live into that truth.

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Next week: Bread in the Emmaus story. Illustration by Dave Baab: Davis Lake, north of Spokane, WA. To me, the waving signifies a warm welcome. Dave is on the left, so this is a kind of self-portrait.

Some previous posts about hospitality:

 

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