Would we recognize Jesus if we met him?

Before I start this blog, I must let you know why I was silent during Lent. I had full intentions of reporting my journal writing after reading daily scripture and contemplating, BUT as God would have it, the first scripture reading dealt with praying to God and keeping your prayers personal. So I took that as an indication I was not to post my writings for all to read. May be one day they will be meant to be posted, but right now, I guess they are not.

I then had a blog spot for Easter and the week after Easter, but I never finished them. Seriously contemplating how my journey is going with God has no finish AND there is so much, I don’t have the words to express many things I am experiencing adequately or efficiently enough for others to read.

This writing is an actual experience that happened to me in December of 2009. I chose to post this now because of the gospel story I heard this past week. The story is about two of Jesus’ disciples who are walking on the road to Emmaus after His crucifixion. They have ‘heard’ from the women and Peter that Jesus’ body was not in the tomb and that angels reported  Jesus was raised from the dead. As they are walking to Emmaus from Jerusalem, a stranger begins to walk with them. He asks them why they are sad. They tell this ‘stranger’ that Jesus was a man they believed to be the messiah; the one who was going to deliver Israel from the oppression they had been suffering for many, many years. This ‘stranger’ then ‘reminds’ them of what the prophets had been telling people for years. The messiah must die and be raised to glory. The disciples listen to this ‘stranger’ for their entire walk. As their walk comes to an end in Emmaus, the ‘stranger’ keeps walking, but the disciples ask him to have dinner and join them for the evening. The ‘stranger’ agrees. When they settle in to eat, the ‘stranger,’ picks up the bread, gives thanks and breaks it. At that moment two things happen simultaneously. One; the disciples recognize that the ‘stranger’ isn’t a stranger, but the risen Christ, Jesus and two; the ‘stranger’ disappears into thin air.  The disciples look at each other and say, “Was our hearts not burning when he was speaking to us?”

What? Really? I think I can more easily believe the part where Jesus vanishes into thin air more than the part where the disciples do not recognize Jesus for hours while walking and talking with him.  This has always confused me. And if Jesus’ own disciples can’t recognize him, how are we to recognize Him? We, unlike his disciples, have never seen him alive. That was what I felt and thought until it happened to me on a Friday in December 2009…

An extremely good friend of mine called me in October of 2009 and asked me if I would like to go with her to NYC, all expenses paid. She was one of ten women nominees being honored for their efforts to help others with charities they started or were involved in. I jumped at the chance. I had never been to NYC before and I couldn’t wait to spend time with my friend.  We arrived one late Friday, December afternoon. We checked into our sleeping quarters, had dinner and then started walking to the sites. It was well after 10:00 PM when we started walking toward Rockefeller Center. It was magical. The city was decorated for Christmas. We were singing Christmas carols. We watched people ice skating in the famous Rockefeller Center ice rink. Then we had our picture taken in front of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree. We went back to watch people ice skate while our picture was being processed in the NBC store.

While my friend and I were watching people skate and engrossed in our conversation, from behind us we hear a man ask us if we like the names Sarah and Mary. He tells us those are two of his favorite names. We turn around to see a stocky man about 35 years old. I would describe him as ‘clean-cut,’ fairly attractive, wearing a winter cap/hat, jacket and gloves. He had a camera hanging around his neck. My friend was thinking that somebody was playing a joke on her because she has a child by one of the names he mentioned. As our conversation progressed, it was evident that our ‘new’ friend or ‘stranger,’ Randy was below average in intelligence as judged by his word usage and the content of our conversation.  We learned that Randy lived at home with his parents in Pennsylvania and worked as a bagger at a grocery store. He had taken a train from PA to NYC to meet up with a family he had met the summer before at an amusement park. This family had called him a day or two before their arrival in NYC to see if Randy could meet them in the city. As I looked around I noticed others looking at us, but didn’t give it too much attention. Then Randy’s ‘childlike’ conversation changed a bit. Although he continued to use words that were more like a child of elementary age, the conversation changed to uh, shall I dare say, parable in nature.  Randy made a statement and asked us questions at the same time, “isn’t friendship, even if you just meet them, more important than work?” We both reply, “Why yes.” At this point I am still thinking of Randy as our cognitively disabled friend.  “Isn’t it important to sometimes leave what you are doing to be with other people?” “You shouldn’t feel bad about being with people, even if you leave work, should you?” “There are more important things, such as family, friends and love, right?”

I began to notice a sensation happening within me. I have not felt this before, nor have I felt this since. Words cannot describe what happened, how I felt or what I experienced. However, I will try my best, with the vocabulary I have to explain what I experienced. As Randy continued to talk, there was a screaming from my very core. Not a screaming of pain or fear, but a screaming of acknowledgement. With each word Randy spoke, the sensation grew. I felt joy overwhelming me. I felt warmth and a love overcome me. I could feel my cheeks stretched so wide it was almost uncomfortable. I felt as if my heart was literally growing IN love. My heart, my ‘being,’ my whatever was growing so large, I felt as though it might burst through my chest wall, yet it was a wonderful feeling.  As Randy continued to speak and ask us questions regarding love of family, friends and strangers, I recognized him. “This is Jesus.” Everything within me told me to get to my knees and kiss his feet. EVERYTHING IN me was pulling me down to do this with great joy and excitement. Then I heard, “Are you crazy? This man is cognitively disabled. If you do this, you will be mocking him and playing into his disability.” I then looked around again and saw people looking at us.  This time, I paid attention to their stares. Their stares were ones of disgust and disapproval. Neither Randy, my friend nor I were being loud or drawing attention to ourselves, so I am unsure why I would register how people perceived us. It took all my strength NOT to ask him if he was Jesus. My body recognized him, yet, my mind kept telling me otherwise and justifying what I was hearing and the judgment was made more ‘real’ by what I saw. Randy didn’t look like the Jesus I have come to know from art. Randy definitely was not a theologian or anyone that I might even think could resemble Christ. And from the reactions of those bystanders around us, Randy was nothing more than a cognitively challenged individual. Yet, my whole physical body was yelling. From every cell within my body, my very ‘being’ was telling me this was Jesus.

The internal struggle was beginning to drown out Randy. The background of Rockefeller Plaza was coming back into my vision and realm of consciousness. Everything within me was saying this is HIM. My mind was telling me it couldn’t be. He did not match my idea of Jesus. He didn’t match society’s idea of Jesus and he certainly could not be Jesus, because Jesus is not here in physical form anymore.

Either I or my friend then said we needed to leave and get our photo. Before we left, Randy asked, “Will you remember me?” At the same time, my friend and I replied, “Yes, we will remember you.” We walked away and through the crowd, Randy asked, “Will I see you again?” We turned around and although the crowd was walking in front of him and us, it was like a tunnel and I could see and hear Randy clearly. With full hearts my friend and I said, “Yes, we will see you again.” With that, Randy was gone. I kid you NOT. The crowd passed in front of him and he was gone. We stood there for what seemed like a few minutes and just looking. We didn’t say a word to each other. Then we walked into the NBC store to get our picture, but before we walked up the stairs, I stopped her and said, “I know you will think I am crazy for thinking this, but I swear we were just talking with Jesus.” She replied, “You know what, I was thinking the same thing and I almost said to him he reminded me of one of the world’s greatest men.”

It wasn’t until that spring, when I heard the story of “The Road to Emmaus,” as I have heard it many times before, I understood what happened to Jesus’ disciples. I too was with Jesus and was speaking to him. My heart was also burning as he spoke to me. I recognized him, yet did not dare acknowledge him, as Peter did not acknowledge Jesus for fear of persecution the night before he was crucified. I remembered Jesus’ words, “I will be with you always.” “I will see you again,” when Randy asked me if I would remember and see him again. I KNEW, from my being, not from my intellect, that I would see Him again. My only regret is that I didn’t acknowledge him when He was with me, when I was in His presence.   

I think about this experience very often; on a weekly, if not on a daily basis. I question whether I will be strong enough in my faith to publicly acknowledge the presence of Jesus the next time I am in His presence:  although he may not be society’s definition or image of Jesus, or even my idea of Jesus.  I pray that I of little faith can over- come my doubt and fears of what others think. For it is He who acknowledges me, died for me and for all of God’s creation. He is not embarrassed or deterred by what others think of me.

I also replay this experience over and over again, wondering whether it was my imagination. Was I ‘reading’ more into a simple conversation? Could Jesus ‘use’ someone else to convey a message or ‘appear’ to others? That would definitely explain why Jesus’ disciples did not recognize him. Do we at times actually embody Christ and are unaware of His presence within us?

Wow what an experience! I am grateful to have had this experience AND to have experienced it with someone who is very faithful. I know this very real ‘story’ sounds insane. Intellectually, I know that. Intellectually I know that what God did, what Jesus did was insane. Who would die for others who are unworthy? Could you justify dying for others who do not love or reject you? I can’t wrap my head around it. It does not make intellectual sense. But I also realize that God has made us more than intellectual beings. There is more to us, and if we listen to those other parts of us, we WILL hear the voice of God and ‘see’ Jesus.