Lectionary Commentaries for April 19, 2026
Third Sunday of Easter

In Luke’s gospel, the first sighting of the risen Christ occurs on a seven-mile walk between Jerusalem and Emmaus during a debate between two disciples, one of whom is named Cleopas. 

A vision of angels

In Luke 24, Cleopas and the other disciple—his wife?—are debating the events of earlier that morning, the third day since the crucifixion. They have heard reports from the women who claim to have had a vision of angels (24:23)

Astute readers of Luke will recall that this gospel begins with the vision of angels, one angel at first, later the entire heavenly host. The reader already believed the reports of those who have seen visions of angels: Zechariah, Mary, the shepherds. The women at the tomb join Luke’s band of witnesses testifying to the inbreaking of the holy, to visions of angels, in the everyday affairs of life. 

The faithfulness of questions

But it is one thing for an angel to testify to childbirth, yet another to declare the resurrection of a man from the very public death of crucifixion. By making the debate on the Emmaus Road the first sighting of the risen Christ in this gospel, Luke acknowledges the legitimacy of these questions. Even as Jesus, perhaps uncharitably, chastises the Emmaus walkers, it is notable that he walks with them, engaging their questions, helping them to wrestle with what and how to believe. Jesus honors this conversation, these questions and debates that disciples have. Luke’s story suggests that Jesus also walks with us as we question and debate, honoring us as our faith seeks understanding.

A risky conversation

Note also the risk involved in the conversation between Cleopas, the other disciple, and Jesus. Without knowing who Jesus is, they reveal to him that they considered Jesus a prophet. They confess that they hoped he would “redeem Israel,” a desire for a change of leadership that the Romans would certainly have found treasonous. Political conversations are risky even in contemporary times, but in the ancient world, such conversations could get you crucified.

Moreover, the travelers reveal to him their disappointment with their religious leaders, because of their collaboration with the occupying power. Today, many within and notably outside of organized religion are asking exactly these kinds of questions of their own religious leaders. These, also, are risky conversations because they may uncover painful truths to which the church and other religious institutions must be held to account.

Readers should remember, here, that Luke is not recording a verbatim conversation in real time. Luke is constructing a story to respond to the hopes that the coming of the Messiah would lead to the reestablishment of the Davidic kingdom. Nevertheless, the conversation Luke provides would have been risky, even foolhardy, for those fleeing town after the execution of their leader. Yet Jesus engages with this risky conversation, walking with those who dare to speak openly of their political and religious concerns. Might the riskiness of the conversation on the road to Emmaus encourage contemporary readers toward their own risky conversations?

Jesus paroikos

In 24:18, Cleopas asks the question, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” The word “stranger” doesn’t quite capture the Greek here. Cleopas uses the word paroikeis, a participle of the verb paroikeō. Students of Greek will recognize the word oikos, “home,” embedded in this verb, and in its cognate noun paroikos. A paroikos was a migrant, a resident foreigner, someone who comes from another place. Notably, Cleopas pegs the risen Jesus as an outsider, a foreigner, a migrant from somewhere else. Why else, he reasons, would Jesus be unaware of the events of the past few days?

What might it mean to us in the 21st century that the risen Christ appears to us as a paroikos, a migrant, a resident foreigner? How might this story have ended if Cleopas and his companion had refused the company of one whom they identified as “other”?

Reframing the story

Readers will note that Jesus does not deny the events described by the Emmaus walkers. Instead, he reframes them. He places them in the context of ancient prophecy and of other scriptures of the people, including the Law. In reframing the story, Jesus casts the crucifixion as only a part of a larger divine narrative. This is not an attempt to deny the pain, the violence, or the anguish of the past three days, but to put them in perspective.

When one is experiencing trauma, denying the truth of the trauma can be damaging. However, the community of faith can help survivors reframe the story as part of a larger story and, in so doing, help them find their place within the whole people of God. What might it mean to reframe the stories we face today?

The table

The Emmaus table differs significantly from the institution of the Lord’s Supper found earlier in the gospels (Matthew 26:26–29; Mark 14:22–25; Luke 22:17–20). Notably, there is no cup mentioned, and Jesus does not speak the words of institution at the table. Instead, Luke simply tells us that he blesses the bread and breaks it, likely in a precursor of the hamotzi blessings spoken at Jewish tables at the beginning of a meal with bread. Of note is the intimacy of the moment. Jesus is not standing apart from these disciples, as though untouchable. In ancient Mediterranean fashion, they are reclining at table, a physical closeness that would likely be uncomfortable for 21st-century diners. 

Luke’s story reminds us that our relationship with the resurrected Christ is a relationship of long walks, risky conversations, reframed traumas, and quiet dinners—an intimate relationship between Christ and the church, of words shared and bread broken.

Acts presents communities with varied opinions and understandings about the central claims of Peter’s message. The claims are: Jesus is Lord, Jesus is the Anointed One, and Jesus offered abolition of sins. Seeing some of the available ways that each of these could have been interpreted by the earliest audiences of Acts allows readers to develop varied strategies for interpreting this passage and the book more broadly. 

Intra-Judean (Jewish) conflict versus Christians against Jews

In these verses Peter reaches the climax of his Shavuot message, which results in an altar call of sorts. Acts sets this message within a festival celebrated by Judeans (Ioudaioi) in the Roman Empire. Peter addresses his message to Judeans so that the entire house of Israel (pas oikos Israēl) can affirm his witness. Acts insists that the Jerusalem Judean judiciary under Roman auspices is responsible for the execution of Jesus. In Peter’s broader speech here, his other speeches in Acts, and Stephen’s message (Acts 7), Acts squares the blame with certain Judeans who, like their ancestors, ignored the words of the prophets and missed God’s activity among them. 

It is important to note that Acts does not place the blame for the execution with all Jews perpetually. That is an anachronistic, anti-Jewish reading of the passage. Instead, Acts has Judeans (Ioudaioi) condemn fellow Judeans who believe some things differently (for example, how to use the Judean scriptures to interpret Jesus). Despite these differences, Acts portrays the different groups agreeing on many other issues, like the importance of Temple worship, the significance of Hebrew scriptures, and practicing festival observance. In this way, Acts portrays intra-Judean (or intra-Jewish) disagreement that later interpreters exaggerate to justify a rift between Judaism and Christianity.

The politics of the titles “Lord” and “Anointed One”

One can understand “Lord” (kyrios) here within two broad contours. The first is religio-political within the Roman Empire. The second is religio-political within Judean traditions proper. A lord (kyrios) was an owner of property, including people. This title extended beyond the household and was applied to the emperor, whom many understood as the “lord” or “owner” of the empire. To suggest that Jesus of Nazareth was lord is a direct challenge to the lordship of figures like Augustus, whom Luke-Acts names in Luke 2:1. 

One can connect this to later, in Acts 17:1–9,  when the members of the movement are accused ironically in Thessalonica of acting contrary to the decrees of the emperor by claiming that Jesus is another king. This scene is ironic because this charge functions primarily to criminalize Jesus’s movement, and although they do not explicitly claim that Jesus is another king, by proclaiming that Jesus is lord and messiah, they are actually, indirectly, indeed making that claim. This is especially important for Acts, because Jesus has been executed by the Jerusalem judiciary that is aligned with Roman imperial power. By aligning with the empire against Jesus, Acts presents the religio-political establishment of Jerusalem as choosing the wrong lord.

Within religio-political Judean traditions, both identifications of Jesus—as lord and anointed one—are connected to royal claims. Earlier, in Acts 2, Lord (kyrios) almost exclusively refers to Adonai from the Hebrew scriptures. Acts interprets the passages from Joel and the Psalter as evidence that Adonai wields ultimate authority over time and history. 

As Acts has Peter turn to the end of his message, he quotes David from Psalm 110, where “my Lord speaks to my Lord.” This coronation-style psalm appropriately gets applied to the anointed one who is also to be a regal figure. The authority of the Lord (Adonai) elides with the delegated authority of my lord (the anointed one). This elision is so powerful that when Jesus is resurrected and exalted, Adonai gives him the authority to do what only Adonai is portrayed as doing in the Hebrew scriptures; Adonai grants the Messiah the lordly authority to pour out the Holy Spirit.

From Judean religio-political traditions, one prominent feature of a messiah or anointed one was to be God’s chosen vessel to intervene in the political, material affairs of God’s people. It is why Cyrus, in Isaiah, is depicted as a christ or as one anointed or christed (echrisen; Septuagint Isaiah 45:1). For Acts, Peter’s claim that Jesus of Nazareth was the Anointed One (Christ or Messiah) can only be understood as a political claim, especially within Judean traditions.

Jesus the Anointed One for abolition, freedom, and forgiveness

Jesus as the Anointed One is important for Acts, and in Acts 2:38, christos gets used as Jesus’s official title, and the combined name Jesus the Anointed One (Iēsous Christos) is the medium through which his followers can transact the business of washing (baptizō) away sins (Hal Taussig’s New New Testament translates baptizō this way). Since Jesus’s identity as the Anointed One is significant for Luke-Acts, it is of the utmost importance to see what Luke-Acts understands Jesus as anointed to do. We can find the answer to this in Luke 4:18–19, when Luke presents Jesus delivering his first message in Nazareth, drawn from a reading of Isaiah 61. He reads:

The Spirit of Adonai (kyriou) is upon me,
it has christed/anointed (echrisen) me
      to announce good news to impoverished people.
It has sent me
      to proclaim abolition (aphesin) to incarcerated people
      and the opening up [of the eyes] of blind people
      to send in freedom (aphesei) those who have been broken through oppression
      to proclaim the year of Adonai’s acceptance. (my translation)

For Luke-Acts, this is what Jesus is anointed, or christed, to do. This should be central for understanding Jesus in Luke-Acts, for understanding the Spirit that anoints him, and for understanding the Spirit that he pours out onto his followers. 

One feature of the above translation that I draw attention to is the flexibility of the term aphesis. I have drawn attention to the presence of that word in Luke 4:18–19, because it also appears in our lectionary passage for the week. In the same way that I have translated it differently in the passage, the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition translates it differently in Acts 2:38 as connected to “forgiveness,” and the King James Version renders it “remission.” The verb form of this term appears in the prayer that Jesus teaches in Luke 11, where he tells them to ask the heavenly Father to “forgive (aphes) our sins (hamartias) as we forgive (aphiomen) those indebted to us.” 

Bringing Luke 4:18–19 and 11:2–4 into dialogue with Acts 2:38 allows us to see some of the political dimensions that could be discerned from the end of Peter’s message. We can hear Peter in Acts proclaiming that Jesus is the Anointed One to proclaim abolition and freedom. Acts depicts him as a lord unlike the emperor, because his goal is not to extract, dominate, and confine. Instead, Jesus pours out the Spirit for freedom and abolition. Peter’s instructions, then, for those who accept his message are that they should turn (metanoēsate) from the colonial, imperial order of Rome and allow the Spirit to lead them into liberation. 

Psalm 116 is fourth in a group of psalms known as the “Egyptian Hallel” psalms (Psalms 113–118), the psalms recited at the Passover meal on the eighth day of Passover.¹

Psalms 113 and 114 are read before the meal; Psalms 115–118 are read at its conclusion, while drinking the fourth cup of celebratory wine.

Psalm 116 is classified as an Individual Hymn of Thanksgiving, in which a psalm singer praises God for goodness to or on behalf of them, usually for deliverance from some trying situation (oppression, war, sickness, et cetera). The great psalm scholar Hermann Gunkel describes the occasion on which these songs would have been offered: “A person is saved out of great distress, and now with grateful heart he brings a thank offering to Yahweh; it was customary that at a certain point in the sacred ceremony he would offer a song in which he expresses his thanks.”²

Individual Hymns of Thanksgiving typically consist of three elements:

1. Introduction, in which the psalmist declares the intention of giving thanks and praising God.
2. Narrative, in which the psalmist tells what has happened to them and what has prompted the words of praise.
3. Conclusion, in which the psalmist praises God for all that God has done on the psalmist’s behalf.

In Psalm 116, verses 1 and 2 are the Introduction, declaring the psalmist’s intentions. Verses 3–11 are the Narrative, telling what has happened to the psalmist and what has prompted the words of praise. And verses 12–19 are the Conclusion, the psalmist’s praise to God for what God has done. In this commentary, we will examine the Introduction, a portion of the Narrative, and the Conclusion.

Verse 1 has a seeming interpretational difficulty that leads modern translators to emend the Masoretic (Hebrew) text from “I love because the Lord hears my voice” to “I love the Lord because he has heard my voice” (perhaps on the model of Psalms 18:1 and 31:23). Does the psalm singer love (in general) because God has heard the singer’s voice, or does the singer love God because God has heard the singer’s voice? This commentator opts to leave the Masoretic text as it stands: “I love (in general) because…”

Verse 1 continues with the notice that God hears the psalmist’s cries for favor or supplication [tahanun] before God. The word “favor” is derived from the verbal root hanan, which carries a basic meaning of “an aesthetically pleasing presentation or aspect of someone or something” or “the pleasing impression made upon one individual by another.” The singer of Psalm 116 is able to love because God hears the “requests to show favor” from the psalmist. In verse 2, the psalmist declares that because God has “inclined God’s ear [to the singer], therefore I will call upon God as long as I live.” The phrase “inclined God’s ear” is a wonderful picture in Hebrew—it literally says “to stretch out the ear.”

In verses 3–11, the psalm describes the events in the psalmist’s life that precipitated the Hymn of Thanksgiving. Verses 3–4 tell us that the psalmist was afflicted with great distress, including the threat of death, and then cried out in the name of the Lord. “Name” was an important concept in the ancient Near East. Names reflected the natures and characters of the persons who bore them and were conceptually equal to the very essence of being. To know someone was to possess some part of that person; to speak a name was to speak into being.

In Genesis 2, God brings the animals one by one to the first human and, we read, “whatever the human called every living creature, that was its name” (Genesis 2:19). Here we have a wonderful picture of humanity working together with God as co-creator. Naming brings the animals into being—an ibex becomes an ibex; a hippopotamus becomes a hippopotamus; an eagle becomes an eagle.

In Exodus 3, Moses encounters God at the burning bush. In that encounter, Moses replies to God’s command to return to Egypt, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” (3:13). God replies with self-naming words of existence, “I am that I am.” From the Hebrew words ‘ehyeh ‘asher ‘ehyeh,  the Israelites derived the personal name of God, Yahweh. And the book of Deuteronomy tells us that God’s name will dwell in the place of God’s choosing in the land (12:5; 14:23–24; 16:2).

The final section of Psalm 116, verses 12–19, contains the psalmist’s praise to God for deliverance and protection. Two refrains divide it at verses 14 and 18: “My vows to the Lord I will pay in the presence of all his people.”

In verse 12 the psalmist asks what may be given to the Lord for all the goodness that the Lord bestows. Verses 13 and 14 answer the question: “a cup of helps” and ” completion of vows.” In the context of the “Egyptian Hallel” psalms, the “cup of helps” can refer to the fourth cup of celebratory wine drunk at the Passover meal.

Verse 15 has puzzled commentators for millennia. Most English translations follow closely the translation of the 1611 Authorized Version: “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” But one Hebrew word in verse 15 is an interesting study.

The word usually translated as “precious” comes from the Hebrew root yaqar, which means “be dignified, honorable, heavy, valuable.” It occurs nine times in the book of Psalms, and is translated variously in the New Revised Standard Version as “precious,” “glory,” “honor,” “costly,” “pomp,” and “weighty.” The use of yaqar to describe the death of the Lord’s (faithful) hesed ones indicates that God does not happily accept the death of any faithful one, but considers life the better alternative and counts each death as costly and weighty.

Verse 16 returns to the praise of God for deliverance and protection, as we see in verses 3–4. The psalmist states, “Indeed, I am your servant … a child of your maidservant; you have unleashed my bonds.” The psalm singer’s words in verses 17 and 18 echo those in verse 14, “I will offer to you a thanksgiving sacrifice … I will pay my vows to the Lord.”

The Passover celebrants raise a cup of wine to God in remembrance of all of God’s goodness to their ancestors and to them in the Exodus from Egypt. Psalm 116 is recited at each Passover as an individual recounting of God’s goodness and deliverance to each celebrant.

Psalm 116 is recited also in Christian tradition during the celebration of communion on Holy Thursday. As in the Passover celebration, so Christians raise a cup of wine in remembrance of all of God’s goodness to their ancestors in the faith and to them.

 Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for April 30, 2017.
2. Hermann Gunkel, The Psalms: A Form-Critical Introduction (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1967), 17.

One of the most striking features of 1 Peter 1:25 is its reiteration of God as a heavenly Father and Jesus as the one who radiates the righteousness of God. God’s attributes are draped in the all-enveloping shroud of the death and resurrection of Jesus: There is no doubt about the impartiality of God. The salvation, holiness, and love of God are central faith tenets or principles Christians should live by and model in the world. So, Peter exhorts Christians never to stop invoking God, who has no favorites but loves all who call upon his name.

Peter ensured that the future life of Christians would remain forever at the center of his message’s theological attention. In the previous verses, Peter exhorted Christians to view their suffering as a mark of distinction for those destined for a future with Jesus. In 1 Peter 1:17–23, the apostle Peter cautioned Christians to remember the impartiality of God as a heavenly Father who shows no favors but loves all people equally. However, God’s impartiality does not negate irresponsible Christian living, and as such, believers must not take God’s love for granted by living immoral and unethical lives. 

God, as the Father of Jesus Christ and our Father, calls on all Christians to live up to the name of God through faithfulness and obedience to him (1 Peter 1:17). God’s impartial love and grace were demonstrated in and through the death and resurrection of Jesus, the one who lived in obedience to God. It is this assurance and firm foundation that Peter’s audience was called to live under; consequently, the 21st century is included in the message of this Petrine epistle. 

As a holy and gracious community of God’s children who invoke God as the judge of all humanity, ancient and modern Christians may feel like foreigners in a hostile world, but that does not signal the absence of God (1 Peter 1:17). Embedded in Peter’s message is a reminder that Christians are unique beneficiaries of all that God did in the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus. As such, Christians are not just loved by God, but they are privileged to be part of God’s mystery, a mystery that will be revealed in the parousia, or the second coming, of Jesus. The key for Christians is to live faithfully and in love with everybody in a hostile environment and a socially complicated world. 

Many times, Christians are tempted to think that social dislocation is a punishment from God; instead, the presence of the one who cares deeply is felt in seasons of pain, being ostracized, excluded, and at most, isolated. It is in painful moments and out-of-place ancestral traditions that mature faith is incubated (verse 18). The parenthood of God needs to be explained, especially in a world where abusive parents do not live up to their social, moral, and ethical roles. I would present that in this passage, God’s role points to a unique creative power of God, whose relationship with all humanity points to an earthly and eternal heavenly relationship. God weeps when vulnerable people, children, women, and men are abused. 

Peter affirms this unique divine role of God, the one who sent Jesus Christ to ransom lost humanity from traditional, religious, and cultural slavery. To be counted as a beloved child of God signifies that one has a home in God’s heart, because the gift of the precious blood of Christ was destined before the foundation of the world, so that faith, love, and hope can only be set on God (1 Peter 1:18–21). Therefore, to know the blood of Jesus is to be drawn into the compassionate love of the Trinity, an avalanche of flooded grace, mercy, and forgiveness. This passage, I am arguing, represents the move toward imitating Christ’s humanity demonstrated in the New Testament. 

I would also argue that in the Gospels, Jesus did not call people into a Christian Church, but first and foremost, he humanized them. It is in imitating Jesus’s way and his love for all humanity that believers are brought into the embrace of God. Jesus loved and cared for humanity, especially the vulnerable, religious leaders, the hungry, the poor, the sick, and all who were demon-possessed. In one word, we can say that Jesus had the gracious gift of empathy. While Jesus worked with Jewish symbols, he also transformed them. Similarly, the Global Christian Church must first seek to empathize with all people, love people without strings attached, and deeply care for one another using the heart of Jesus Christ. 

All cultures are complex and complicated, but Christians should see their worldview through the lens of Jesus the Messiah. The life of Jesus and his death on the cross open new ways for cultures, organizations, and individuals to appropriate the holiness of Jesus. I have emphasized that Jesus was born, raised, and nurtured in the ancient Jewish cultural and religious world, but his death and resurrection brought forth a new world order of love for all people. It was and still is a world of love, faith, and hope (1 Peter 1: 22). 

Salvation history is God’s way of bringing humanity under his orbit, and Peter’s comment on “the Word of God that endures or stands forever” calls on Christians to stand under God’s everlasting promise (1 Peter 1: 22–25; Isaiah 40:7–8). The Church as we know it might change and at times rationalize the Word of God, but God will defend God’s Word and shatter all the evils of humanity. Christian believers should never stop loving their fellow human beings; instead, they should be steadfast and stay rooted in the transformational power of the Word of God. 

In our present journey of trials, political upheavals, ideologies, cancers, and rationalization of the Gospel, Christians are covered and shielded in the eternal hope and compassionate love of God, our heavenly Father; Jesus Christ, our Lord; and the power of the Holy Spirit. We as believers are the good news, and we must always continue to immerse ourselves in the living, precious blood of Jesus. The apostle Peter calls on Christians to see the gospel as it is, from God’s perspective. And that is the good news that Jesus announced from the beginning as humanity became the ecclesia of God.