Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus Himself came up and walked along with them;  but they were kept from recognizing Him. He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?” They stood still, their faces downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, asked Him, “Are You the only one visiting Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” “What things?” He asked. “About Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed Him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified Him; but we had hoped that He was the One Who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place. In addition, some of our women amazed us. They went to the tomb early this morning but didn’t find His body. They came and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, who said He was alive. Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see Jesus.” He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter His glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, He explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning Himself. As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if He were going farther. But they urged Him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So He went in to stay with them. When He was at the table with them, He took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized Him, and He disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while He talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?” They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together and saying, “It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon.” Then the two told what had happened on the way, and how Jesus was recognized by them when He broke the bread. (Luke 24:13-35)

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   Women had a very hard time in the ancient world. They were property, exchanged by their fathers for land or animals or money; a useful tool in the making of good business deals. They often had to share their husband with many other wives and if a divorce occurred, the woman was bound to be worse off. She would often be unable to find a way to make money, and she would be considered an adulteress if she married another man. She couldn't inherit property and she couldn't testify in a court. A woman's voice was silent in the days of Jesus. In Jesus’ time, a woman had no real standing in society and no real identity for herself, and for a very long time afterward, things remained basically the same. John Milton wrote his epic poem Paradise Lost, which essentially blamed Eve for everything, saying Adam had little if any part in the Fall. Up until the 19th century, women were still largely regarded as property. Up until the 20th century, women couldn’t vote to express their views in democratic elections. That lack of status and identity occurred to me last week as I read today's passage from Luke.   

     “Some of our women amazed us.” It's interesting that Cleopas couldn't do any better than that. These were women who had amazed not just him, but the entire company of Jesus' disciples. But still, they counted as nothing more than “some of our women.” I've had the opportunity to preach on this particular passage of Scripture in every church I've served, including just a couple of months after I moved here to Port Colborne, but I've always approached it from a certain perspective: the mystery about the other disciple in the story. Cleopas gets named, but his traveling companion doesn't. There's this other mystery, though, that appears in the passage – what about these women? If we read carefully the Easter story in the four Gospels, we can put at least some names to the “some … women” that Cleopas referred to. Combining all four Gospel accounts, we know that there was Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, Salome and Joanna. And yet, only hours after they had discovered the empty tomb, so anonymous had they become that Cleopas simply referred to them as “some of our women.”

     There are, unfortunately, a lot of unnamed women in the Bible. I haven't done an exhaustive study but I've read estimates that at least 300 different women are referred to in the pages of our Scriptures. That's a lot. That may actually be more women than men, because the men who get mentioned tend to be the big names, but many of the women get mentioned only in passing, almost as an afterthought. Yes, there are some very well known biblical women. Sarah, Ruth, Esther, Mary the mother of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. We know them. But there are the lesser known – names that appear and then just as quickly disappear – like Joanna and Salome who were part of the group that discovered the empty tomb, or like Eunice, whom Paul held out as a great example to Timothy but then never mentioned again. And then there are countless unnamed women who appear and disappear, whose stories are important but whose identities are lost.

     A few weeks ago we spoke about the unnamed Samaritan woman that Jesus encountered at the well. It was the longest conversation Jesus had with anyone – at least of those recorded in the Scriptures. It was a conversation that made her one of the first evangelists, as she ran and told her story and the citizens of her village came to see Jesus. But we don't know her name.

     There was a woman in Bethany who came to the home of Simon the leper and put very expensive perfume on Jesus' head. The disciples were indignant – they claimed about the wastefulness but one wonders if they weren't a bit jealous that this woman was given this privilege – but Jesus rebuked not her but them. “Why are you bothering this woman. She has done a beautiful thing to me. … wherever the gospel is preached … what she has done will also be told in memory of her.” And still today the story is told. But we don't know her name.

     What about the wife of the prophet Isaiah? She gets mentioned only once in the entire Book of Isaiah, and yet she was the mother of his children, and Isaiah refers to his wife as a “prophetess,” and there are those who believe that she may have written some parts of the prophecy that bears her husband's name. But we don't know her name.

     Mark's Gospel tells us that Jesus had brothers and sisters. Mark tells us that Jesus' brothers were “James, Joseph, Judas and Simon.” Mark tells us that Jesus had at least two sisters, because he uses the plural in referring to them. But we don't know their names.

     Judges 11 tells us the story of the daughter of a man named Jephthah. It's a tragic tale of a joyful woman – Jephthah's only child – portrayed “dancing to the sound of tambourines” who meets a tragic end but who faced that end with strength and grace and honour. A festival was created in her memory, and over the centuries poems have been written about her and portraits have been painted of her. But we don't know her name.

     In Luke 7 there's the story of a prostitute who – in the home of a Pharisee nonetheless – comes to Jesus, falls on her knees, cleans His feet with her tears and pours perfume on them. When the Pharisees complain that Jesus let such a woman touch Him, He rebuked them but declared her “forgiven.” But we don't know her name.

     John's Gospel tells us the story of a woman caught in adultery who was being chased by an angry mob and was about to be stoned to death until Jesus intervened and shamed the mob into letting her go. Once again, Jesus offered her mercy and forgiveness. But we don't know her name.

     In Luke 13, when Jesus angered the Pharisees by healing on the Sabbath (one of the key events that led to His crucifixion) it was a woman He healed. But we don't know her name.

     There was the wife of Noah – who must have wondered what her husband was doing building a giant boat in the middle of a desert. But we don't know her name.

     So, why are these stories important? Why do I share them? The women I've spoken about don't have a lot in common. They come from different eras and have different experiences – and we don't know their names! So what's the point? Maybe that's the point. We don't know their names. But what we do know is that as anonymous as they were and are, they played important roles in the service of God and their stories appear in the Bible and if, indeed, “all Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching ...” then what do we learn from them? Maybe the most important thing of all. We learn that none of this is about us or about our glory – it's about others and it's about God's glory. None of this is about getting the credit for the good things that we do; it's just about doing the good things that we do. After He defeated death, who did Jesus talk to? He didn’t ask to speak to the king or the emperor or the governor. He didn't seek out His closest disciples. Instead, He spoke to a group of women - the lowest of the low in that time and place. He trusted those women to carry the message to His disciples - to be the first witnesses to the resurrection. He trusted women to bear the most important news the world has ever heard. Things haven't changed much in that regard.

     For all the well-known faces of faith in the world today, there are the uncounted millions who go about their day to day work for God without being recognized. The people who give food to the poor. The people who build homes for the homeless. The people who offer quick prayers for others that no one knows about. The leaders of house churches in China who keep the faith alive. The mothers (and fathers) who quietly go about their joyful task of raising loving and faithful children who will themselves in turn be a blessing to the world. So many others who we never think of. They don't get glory. But God sees them - and may God bless them.