Have you ever had one of those experiences when you’re the only person that doesn’t know that there’s a celebrity in the room? I had that on the first day of my deacon formation class. This was back in Idaho, and I didn’t realize that this guy that everyone knew as Chef Lou had graced us with his presence. Maybe you know him, maybe not. I’m aware that Chef Lou has been on shows like Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, and that he’s also created some content with Alton Brown. I know other people watch a whole lot more TV than I do, probably because we’ve never had cable and we tossed our TVs out when the signal transitioned from analog to digital. I live in a TV desert, so that means that I don’t know a celebrity when I see one.
Everyone else that entered that first class of deacon formation knew Chef Lou because they had seen him on TV. He had his own show that was broadcast on one of the local channels, back when there were just a handful of channels. Since my fellow classmates had seen him so often through their TV sets, they had drawn a lot of conclusions about who he was. Apparently, that’s a real problem for celebrities, because those conclusions create disconnection for them. Oddly, the more a person knows about a celebrity through their content, the less that person is willing to get to know the actual person. I feel very fortunate because I didn’t know a thing about Chef Lou. For example, what name should we use? He just wanted to be called Lou. Others said, and I’m quoting here, “Yeah, I can’t see myself calling you anything except Chef Lou.”
That was unfortunate, because they really saw him as a celebrity and chef first and a man of God second. But that is the person that I was able to learn about and get to know. It turns out that Lou ran his business, where he did all of his chef stuff, like a bona fide ministry. The people that he hired would be hard pressed to find anyone else that would be willing to take a risk on them. He hired the people that wanted to work but had a past that made them unhirable.
I bring up my experience with Lou to make a point regarding this Gospel. Two disciples are making a journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Jesus asked them what they were discussing, and the two were incredulous that he didn’t already know what had been happening, which is funny since they didn’t recognize Jesus. They explained to Jesus what things they were discussing.
“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.”
They said the word “but” after they had talked about how Jesus was mighty in deed and word before God. They said, “But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel.”
Going back to that time and space — Jerusalem in the days of Jesus — they were occupied by Roman forces. They were not free. They were constantly oppressed. For the typical Jewish person living in the Jerusalem area, redemption meant that their oppressors would be destroyed, crushed, eliminated. Their political sovereignty would be established. Their Davidic throne would be restored. The dispersed Jews would be gathered up once again. There would be no more oppression, no more strife. Instead, they expected an era of peace, justice, prosperity, and true worship in the Temple. Life was going to be paradise.
Instead of all of that, instead of Jesus crushing the oppressor, instead of Jesus restoring the throne, instead of an era of peace, justice, and prosperity, the disciples saw that they got none of that. The disciples saw that their oppressors were still firmly in control. They didn’t get their peace and justice at all. It was just the opposite of what they expected in every possible way. Their oppressors killed the man that was going to set them free. Their hopes were completely obliterated.
It’s kind of sad to think about, really, how devastating that would be. To have such high hopes and then to see such terrible results.
Now, these hopes that these disciples have are not just coming out of the blue. One can see how they formed their conclusions that Jesus was going to do what they expected. There are some powerful promises made to the Jewish people in the book of Isaiah. Isaiah says a messiah is coming that will crush the oppressor and defeat enemies, will restore the Davidic throne, will usher in peace, justice, and prosperity. And all of that is true. The unfortunate mistake that these disciples made was to assume that they already knew how God was going to accomplish all of this. The mistake was to assume that they already knew when these things were going to take place. Jesus never told them that he was going to crush the Roman Empire right before their eyes. You might recall Jesus telling the Jews to render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s. You might also recall that Jesus told his disciples that the Messiah must suffer and die first before he would deliver Israel from the hands of the oppressors. Peter replied to Jesus saying, “Far be it from you, Lord!” Which earned the rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan.”
There are plenty of examples where Jesus is telling his disciples who he really is. But sadly, they have a very hard time setting down their previous conclusions. They come into the relationship with Jesus believing that they already know who the messiah is. And that’s a problem, because the conclusions drive a wedge between the disciples and Jesus. The key ingredient that is missing is curiosity. Curiosity is a wonderful thing and a great habit for us to develop.
When I met Lou Aaron, also known as Chef Lou, I had that curiosity because I really didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have any commitments to prior conclusions. So I was able to be curious, and my eyes remained open. The disciples lacked that curiosity as they met Jesus on the road to Emmaus, and their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
In Luke chapter 24, in the story of the road to Emmaus, curiosity can help us in all of our relationships. Especially when life brings profound disappointments, confusions, terrible grieving, or hopes destroyed. God, where are you in all of this? Well, he’s walking with us on our own road to Emmaus. He’s ready for us to be curious and learn more about him in this painful process.
Something that I try to do is to approach situations with curiosity. I like to find questions to ask that will help me learn more about those around me, to pause and spend time exploring. It’s a rare moment, really, when I don’t learn something new after I’ve exercised a little curiosity. I would love to see that gift of curiosity grow within all of us. To wonder how it’s even possible God is right there in our despair and pain. To consider that we may not know everything about the people around us. And, in entering into that curiosity, perhaps you’ll have your own Emmaus moment — your heart burning within you as God opens your eyes in a new way.
If the thing you were hoping for did not arrive in the form you expected, start by writing the sentence with the “but” still in it. He was mighty in deed and word. But we were hoping he would redeem Israel in the way we already pictured. Your version may be a recovery, a return, a life that was supposed to continue. Write what you hoped. Write what happened. Do not fix the gap in the same sitting.
The mistake on that road was not the hope. Isaiah’s promises were real. The mistake was already knowing how, and already knowing when. If you have decided that God is absent because the ending did not match the picture, that is the old conclusion. Ask one question you do not already have the answer to. Where were you in the hour it failed? What did I decide you were supposed to do? You do not have to feel an answer. The disciples did not recognize him while they were explaining the wreck to him.
Curiosity with a person is the same practice. Lou wanted to be called Lou. The room already knew him as Chef Lou and would not learn the man. If grief has turned someone near you into a role — the widow, the patient, the one who should be over it — ask one question about the person, not the role. Then wait for the answer.
God, in this Gospel, is already on the road. The work is not to produce the paradise you ordered. It is to stop telling the story as if you already know how he was supposed to show up.
This is a pastoral reflection, not clinical care and not a substitute for it. If you or someone you love is in immediate danger, call 988 or local emergency services.Drawn from a homily first preached in 2026.