The Road to Emmaus

Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, "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. 13 - 35

“The Kitchen Maid with the Supper at Emmaus” by Diego Valázquez c.1620

The poet Denise Levertov was inspired by this painting to tell the story of the Servant Girl at Emmaus.

She listens, listens, holding her breath.

Surely that voice

is his—the one

who had looked at her, once,

across the crowd, as no one ever had looked?

Had seen her?

Had spoken as if to her?

Surely those hands were his,

taking the platter of bread from hers just now?

Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?

Surely that face—?

The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.

The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.

The man it was rumored now some women had seen this morning,

alive?

Those who had brought this stranger home to their table

don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.

But she in the kitchen,

absently touching the wine jug she’s to take in,

a young Black servant intently listening,

swings round and sees

the light around him

and is sure.

-Denise Levertov