Do Tell

[A reflection on the Gospel appointed for the Third Sunday of Easter, April 19, 2026, which may be found with the other readings appointed at https://www.episcopalchurch.org/lectionary/easter-3a/]

In the world of high stakes gaming, international espionage, and even psychology (in none of which I am an expert, I assure you!), much is made of what people call a tell, a subconscious quirk, expression, or movement that indicates something significant about the person expressing the tell. It might be an eyelid twitch just before an emotional meltdown, an eyebrow quirk when a really good hand has been dealt, or a particular fidget at the dinner table when the conversation turns somewhat unpleasant (such as Uncle Bob bringing up politics...again). It is all part of non-verbal communication, and those very familiar with the possessor of the tell register these almost subconsciously as well, using them to validate the identity or closeness of the person they are observing.

Two Jews in Judaea of the early first century of the Common Era were walking along the road in the late afternoon heading toward a small town called Emmaus. They had had more than enough of Jerusalem. The past week which started with an emotional high for them and other disciples of a young rabbi called Jesus of Nazareth ended with the burial of the same man on whom they had pinned all their hopes. To say they were dejected did no justice to the severe psychic trauma all those women and men experienced that weekend. To top it off, that morning some of their fellow female disciples had brought a wild story of angels saying Jesus had risen from the dead, but all that anyone else could validate was that the tomb was empty. Darker, grimmer explanations for the empty tomb likely played tag in their heads rather than the hope offer blossoming there instead.

A third person comes up to them as they are walking along and asks them what is so dire that their expression and conversation were so grim. After asking what rock he had been under, they opened up and shared everything with this stranger. What followed was a lengthy conversation where the stranger (obviously himself a rabbi because of the teaching he offered) ended up being asked to stay the night where the two disciples were lodging. It was late, after all, and they likely wanted to talk more.

And then there was the tell.

Before His crucifixion, Jesus ate with His disciples a lot. Jesus always gave the blessing. Jesus always broke the bread. These two were likely there at the feedings of the five thousand and the four thousand, where they saw him break apart loaves and fish. They probably saw many meals where Jesus broke the bread for smaller groups. The action was so familiar, and likely so unique to Jesus, that when this stranger broke the bread the other two made the inevitable conclusion:

This man did not break bread like Jesus...this man WAS Jesus.

It was at that very moment of recognition that Our Lord took abrupt leave of them, having done His work of the moment, educating these two and confirming for them that He indeed was once again among the living.

For us, who have not seen but still believe, our encounters with the Risen Lord are much like that. Chance meetings, a teachable moment, and a tell, if we are perceptive enough to pick it up, that we have had the Lord in front of us. Possibly in a conversation with a friend, where Our Lord "shares space" for a moment, or in a homeless person whose day we have lightened by making a provision for them and they turn again and bless us, or in a dark time in our lives when a thought or word or passage or other sign is visited upon us by someone else that has the sensation of being from the Risen Lord to pull us from despair and restore us to hope. There is that flash of recognition, then He is gone, but the hope remains.

May we all be attuned to those moments.

Christ is Risen!