Daily Gospel Reflection
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April 8, 2026
That very day, the first day of the week,
two of Jesus’ disciples were going
to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus,
and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.
And it happened that while they were conversing and debating,
Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,
but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
He asked them,
“What are you discussing as you walk along?”
They stopped, looking downcast.
One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply,
“Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem
who does not know of the things
that have taken place there in these days?”
And he replied to them, “What sort of things?”
They said to him,
“The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene,
who was a prophet mighty in deed and word
before God and all the people,
how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over
to a sentence of death and crucified him.
But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel;
and besides all this,
it is now the third day since this took place.
Some women from our group, however, have astounded us:
they were at the tomb early in the morning
and did not find his Body;
they came back and reported
that they had indeed seen a vision of angels
who announced that he was alive.
Then some of those with us went to the tomb
and found things just as the women had described,
but him they did not see.”
And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are!
How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
and enter into his glory?”
Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets,
he interpreted to them what referred to him
in all the Scriptures.
As they approached the village to which they were going,
he gave the impression that he was going on farther.
But they urged him, “Stay with us,
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.”
So he went in to stay with them.
And it happened that, while he was with them at table,
he took bread, said the blessing,
broke it, and gave it to them.
With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him,
but he vanished from their sight.
Then they said to each other,
“Were not our hearts burning within us
while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?”
So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem
where they found gathered together
the Eleven and those with them who were saying,
“The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!”
Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way
and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Excerpts from the Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States of America, second typical edition © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., Washington, DC. Used with permission. All rights reserved. No portion of this text may be reproduced by any means without permission in writing from the copyright owner. The full readings of the day from the Lectionary are available here.
What strikes me most about the road to Emmaus story is the disciples’ ability, or lack thereof, to recognize their savior. When they first encounter Jesus, we are told that their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. When the bread is broken, and they do finally recognize him, we are told that their eyes were opened. Why this language? Why does it seem as though something external is determining the disciples’ ability to recognize their savior?
We might consider the advice many of us learn from a young age: the harder we try, the better we will do. The more effort we exert in our studies, in our athletic pursuits, in our careers, the more likely we are to succeed. I don’t think the same rule applies to faith. It is not in trying really hard to open our eyes that we come to see. Rather, it is by surrendering to grace, a free gift, that our eyes are opened, and we see Jesus for who he is.
From what I can tell, this is what the disciples are experiencing in today’s gospel. They come to recognize Jesus not through a heroic act on their part, but through grace—hence the peculiar language: they do not open their own eyes, but their eyes are opened.
This idea is challenging. How can we have enough trust to know that God will open our eyes, and that all we have to do is be ready to receive God’s grace? Doesn’t this limit our autonomy? Doesn’t this take the credit away from us and give it to God? These questions are not easy, and we may find ourselves resistant to them in some way. We may still want some of the credit.
But however daunting the road home might appear, we know that it is well worth traveling if we are to find rest for our restless hearts.
Prayer
Almighty God, your Son’s rising from the dead astounded his followers and turned their sadness into joy, their hopelessness into buoyant courage. Like the disciples who encountered him on the road to Emmaus, may we recognize Jesus in the breaking of the bread, know him as the fulfillment of our deepest longings, and proclaim him alive to all we meet. We ask this through Christ, our risen Lord. Amen.
Saint of the Day
Though St. Walter of Pontoise did not want to be in the public eye and longed for a life of solitude, he could not escape the leadership roles to which he was called.
He lived in 11th century France and was a professor of philosophy before joining a community of Benedictine monks. Because of his intellect, the king asked him to serve as the first abbot of a new monastery in Pontoise.
He was fearless in speaking to those in power, which made him rise in their estimation. The honor that he received from executing his position well made him anxious. He had always desired a life of silence and prayer, so he fled to a distant monastery, hoping to escape his responsibilities. His monks found him, though, and brought him back.
He tried a number of other escapes as well—he tried to live in solitude on an island but was found, and a pilgrim recognized him when he attempted to hide in another, different monastery after that.
Walter eventually appealed to the pope himself, asking to be relieved of his duties. The pope told him to make good use of the talents God had given him and told him to never leave again. Walter took that as a definitive answer and gave up on looking for a way out of his public ministry.
He spoke out against priests who abused their positions and faced angry opposition. He was even seized, beaten, and thrown into prison at one point—the monks of his community had him released.
As he aged, he increased his devotions and disciplines. It is said that he rarely sat down while praying in church—he would lean on his staff instead. He would often be the last man to leave the monk’s night prayer, lost in contemplation, and sometimes would fall asleep there to be discovered in the morning in a heap on the floor.
St. Walter died on this date in 1095, which happened to be Good Friday. He is a patron saint of prisoners, and of those who experience job-related stress.
The chapel in Duncan Hall, a men's hall on Notre Dame's campus, is named after St. Walter of Pontoise, a designation that is marked with this plaque that stands near its door.
St. Walter of Pontoise, patron saint of those who suffer from job-related stress—pray for us!
Image credit: This icon comes from St. Walter Pontoise Parish in Roselle, Illinois.