On the road to Emmaus, the two disciples were unable to see who it was who spoke to them. One interpretation is that they were shattered from the demise of the Messiah. They were perhaps blinded by grief and despair. I often wonder at my own blindness after - and usually only after - I finally see what was always there before me. I am typically blinded by my assumptions. I thought it would be easy. I thought that the object I was looking for was red so I was focusing on red, and it turns out that it was orange after all. I assumed it ends here when it instead continues elsewhere. Our assumptions can blind and bind us because we are capable of bending the universe to them, so to speak. We build our own walls. That is not all. Bad habits compound the problem: I give in to sloth, preferring comfort over the work that needs to be done, or choose my priorities badly, get distracted easily by trivialities, become too emotional to think, and a few other things that my wife can tell you about. I need the constant reminder of the Church that the reality dwarfs what I might perceive at any moment of lapse or weakness. The point that St. Paul keeps driving home, according to Fr. Robert Barron, is that there is this power - in Christ - that he has tapped me into, his own power, this life in the Spirit that reveals the whole truth if I but open up beyond my presumptions. This is not by closing the eyes of reason, but, rather, looking farther and ranging further beyond the horizon, because there is more to see. And there usually is. I would have to be blind to think that I could see everything there is to see.