Scripture readings for April 19, 2026, Third Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14, 22-33 Ps 16:1-2, 5, 7-8, 9-10, 11 1 Pt 1:17-21 Lk 24:13-35
Easter changes everything of course. The resurrection of Jesus sets everything on its head. One must get used to Easter, adjust to it, to the very idea of it, much less the consequences of it.
Inaugurating a whole new kingdom, a whole new universe, a new horizon and a new life, centuries removed from the historical fact of Jesus’ resurrection, we can sometimes forget just how discombobulating news of the resurrection was at first. Sometimes even today we forget just how radical it all is. Easily we forget just how much, having changed everything, Easter should also change us.
I am meditating here on a common Easter theme, on bewilderment. If you read the stories of Jesus’s resurrection in the Gospels, that’s what you’ll find — bewilderment. That is, it’s clear from the Gospels that the disciples at first really didn’t know what to make of the news that the tomb was empty.
For instance, when Mary Magdalene and the other women told the disciples what they had witnessed, Luke writes that the disciples thought it all an “idle tale, and they did not believe them.” Even after Peter saw things for himself, he didn’t know quite what to make of it. Seeing the empty tomb and the folded linen, it just says that Peter “went home wondering at what had happened” (Lk 24:11-12).
But that’s not all. Matthew writes how in Galilee when the disciples saw him, “they worshipped him; but some doubted” (Mt 28:17). Even Mary Magdalene’s experience, as recorded in John’s Gospel, was full of uncertain vision and awkwardness. Mistaking him initially for a gardener, when she finally recognized him, Jesus had to tell her, “Do not hold me” (Jn 20:14-17). Even after seeing the risen Lord, Mary Magdalene still had to adjust to a new reality she didn’t immediately comprehend.
And now to Luke’s Gospel, to this famous story about the two disciples on their way to Emmaus. To note the general phenomenon of Easter bewilderment I think helps us better understand this story; and likewise, it helps us begin to think about how we can make sense of Easter in our own lives.
Everyone knows the story. Two men on their way to Emmaus come upon a man on the road that they do not recognize is the risen Jesus himself. A conversation begins and the two men tell Jesus (again, not knowing to whom they’re talking) about “the things” that had just happened in Jerusalem. Jesus playfully asks them, “What sort of things?” The things about “Jesus the Nazarene…a prophet mighty in deed and word,” they answer (Lk 24:15-20).
And then they admit their bewilderment. “Some women from our group, however, have astounded us,” they say to their unrecognized Lord (Lk 24:22). Like all the others in those other stories, they too don’t really know what to make of it. An empty tomb? Risen from the dead? What on earth can it mean?
But that’s when Jesus begins his loving catechesis. His truth gently assuages their bewilderment. Walking with them, not leaving them — a significant spiritual detail — Jesus begins to open their minds and set their hearts on fire. By now almost every detail in this story is full of spiritual significance.
“Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures,” the story goes (Lk 24:27). By means of his teaching, and by the gift of his even unrecognized presence, the Lord brings the two bewildered disciples not just to knowledge but to desire. “Stay with us,” they ask the Lord (Lk 24:29). “Were not our hearts burning within us,” they say to each other (Lk 24:32).
And then Jesus breaks the bread. And then they recognize him. They see the risen Lord.
Which is just what the Lord does with bewildered disciples, and not just these two on their way to Emmaus, but also you and me. Bewildered, Jesus gently leads us into sacramental reality, to sacramental sight. The allusions here obviously point to the Eucharist (Lk 24:30). For that, Luke is telling us is what will assuage our bewilderment, replacing it with illumination: the sacramental Body and Blood of Jesus, the Holy Eucharist. For the newer rite is here.
So, what does it mean for us? What it means is that if you’re wondering just how Easter applies to you, wondering what difference it makes, then the best thing to do would be to read your Bible and go to Mass. What’s amazing about this story from Luke is that it describes something that you can do today, every day and Sunday after Sunday. Your hearts can burn with Christ’s truth too. You can recognize him too.
Which, before one can begin to embrace the tremendous moral change the resurrection demands of us — for example, to love without fear of death — is where one ought to begin, begging for the illumination that is the gift of word and sacrament, the necessary truth and food of Easter people.
Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.
