Again yesterday I changed the skin here. And I switched the
header picture back from the Carl Bloch painting of the angel comforting Jesus in Gethsemane, to his painting of
Jesus breaking bread (essentially sharing Communion) with a pair of disciples
in the town of Emmaus, late on Easter Sunday. The Gospel of Luke takes up the story in
most of Chapter 24; following is my recounting of that story, based on that Gospel
and my own visualization.
On
Easter Sunday, a fellow named Cleopas was walking to Emmaus, a village seven
miles from Jerusalem, with a friend; they were both among Jesus’ hundreds of
disciples. They were talking about all the things that had been occurring in
Jerusalem. For it was into that very city that Jesus had ridden in seeming
triumph, not very long before, with crowds of strangers crying out his name and
laying palm branches and fronds on the dusty road before him in a gesture of
great honor.
And
yet, just days afterward, Jesus had also been betrayed by one of his trusted
inner circle, arrested, then was tried and executed just outside the city,
suffering a slow and cruel, painful death over long and agonizing hours, while
many of the people who recently had cheered him mocked now him and threw curses
at him. As was the custom, he’d been entombed close by after the Roman
procurator had dismissively allowed some of his followers to pull his body
down, once it was certain he was, indeed dead.
Yet now
strange word was beginning to circulate that Jesus had risen back up from death
– in fact, these two had just been meeting with other followers of Jesus, and a
couple women had run in breathless to say they had seen him only minutes
earlier. Some followers had gotten up to go and see for themselves – and indeed
the tomb had been lying open, but there was no sign of Jesus’ body, or of the
guards who had been set to watch the tomb against such an occurrence.
While
the two disciples were discussing and debating this whole series of events,
incredibly Jesus himself walked up to them from behind, and then matched their
pace so he could join them. Yet they didn’t recognize him… perhaps because
their last sight of him had been of a beaten, bruised, and bloodied corpse,
bearing the scars of his jailors’ and executioners’ tortures, before being laid
to rest wrapped in a fine linen cloth donated by a wealthy follower, his body
cold and stiffening, and had bid him farewell with bitter tears of utter
defeat. Now he was quite strong and healthy, unmarked (except possibly in his
wrists, which were covered by his robe’s sleeves), vigorous in stride, and
friendly in face and voice.
He
asked them, “So what’s this you two are talking about, walking down this road?”
The two
he’d greeted stopped in their tracks in astonishment. Cleopas recognized by his
accent that this stranger was not from the city they had just left. He was able
to speak first, his voice rising in incredulity: “Are you the only visitor to
Jerusalem who doesn’t know about what’s been going on there lately?”
Jesus
answered them innocently, “What sort of things?”
Cleopas’
friend stammered, “Why, the things that happened to Jesus of Nazareth – the
prophet, the man who’d performed mighty deeds before these very eyes” – he
gestured at his own, and Cleopas’ – “and who’d said some powerful, holy things
to all the people there, as though he were God’s own anointed…which we
sincerely believe he was.”
The
three men resumed walking. Cleopas said to their new acquaintance, “Our chief
priests,” – he spat derisively – “and ‘rulers’, conspired together and handed
him over to the Romans, who sentenced him to death and crucified him – like a
common criminal!”
His
friend explained further, “We were hoping that he would be the one to redeem
Israel, freeing us from this bondage to all our sins and to the Romans. And
now…” he waved his arm futilely.
Cleopas
added, “And now it’s the third day since he was killed. And some women from our
group of followers have told us some astonishing news! They had gone to the
tomb before dawn just this morning – “
His
friend interrupted him. “They wanted to dress and clean the body, since we
couldn’t take care of that before the Sabbath fell. This was right after we put
him in the tomb that one of the group turned over to us.”
Cleopas
resumed: “They came back in great excitement, crying and telling us that they’d
had a vision of angels who told them that Jesus was alive! One of them says
Jesus himself spoke to her! So some of us – including my young friend here” (he
indicated his companion, who nodded eagerly) “went to the tomb to see for
themselves. It was just as the women had described – the tomb was empty, but
the burial cloths were still there.”
Again
his friend interrupted. “It was Simon, son of John – they call him Cephas; he’s
the head of the Master’s closest followers – “
Cleopas:
“Yes, and the youngest of that group too, John, Zebedee the fisherman’s son,
ran up ahead of him to see. But none of them saw Jesus, or the angels.” His and
his friend’s eyes had grown wide and their voices has risen as they recounted
their tale for this fellow traveler.
The
traveler – again, Jesus himself, still unrecognized by them – actually chuckled
mirthfully at their tale, shaking his head. He smiled disarmingly, so they did
not take offense. And he said, “How foolish you are, all of you! Wasn’t it necessary
for the longed-for Messiah to suffer all those things you described, before he
could enter into his full glory?”
Still
smiling, he gave his head one more shake, and began patiently to lay out for
these two all the prophecies of the Messiah, starting with Moses and plowing
through the prophets, the psalms, and so on. All these things had declared in
advance – centuries in advance – either in word, or in symbol, how the Messiah
(which means “anointed”; the Greek word was “christos”) would be born, what his
mission was to be, and what his message to the people of God, the Jews, would
be as well… and indeed, to all the Gentile world, beyond the Jews themselves.
There
were somewhere close to two hundred of these instances in Jewish scripture; so
by the time their seemingly rabbinic companion had gone through each of these
prophecies and foreshadowings, and explained their meaning and shown these two
men their fulfillments… they were already in the outskirts of Emmaus. They
turned left onto one of the side streets, but their new friend continued
onward, straight ahead, with a gentle smile and a light wave.
“Wait a
minute, Rabbi!” Cleopas called out. The stranger stopped.
Cleopas
continued, “Sir, stay with us – it’s nearly evening already, and the day’s
almost over. It’s getting late.” And their friend turned and smiled, and with a
friendly nod followed along behind them into the home of Cleopas’ companion.
The two men introduced the wise rabbi to the man’s wife; his little children
peeked around the corner from another room, but otherwise stayed out of sight
as their mother gestured to a servant to bring out bread and wine and some
vegetables to the tired men.
The two
turned to the rabbi to bless them and their food before eating. He raised the
bread, looked up, and said, “Baruch atah Adonai Elohanu melach ha'olam ha'motzi
lehem min Ha'aretz,” or something to that effect in Aramaic; in English it
would be: “Blessed are You, Lord God, King of all creation, who bring forth
this bread from the earth.” Then he broke the loaf into several pieces, and
handed it to them.
At that
instant their hearts thudded to a stop; they recognized him. They turned to
each other, both with mouths gaping wide open, and then looked back at Jesus –
but in that instant, miraculously, he’d vanished. The bread, still broken,
though, was on the table before them.
They
leapt up with a shout; Cleopas ran outside to see if Jesus had simply left in
great haste, but there was no sign of him in either direction. His friend told
his wife – who hadn’t witnessed Jesus’ disappearance – that they had to get
right back to Jerusalem and tell the other disciples. “That man, that rabbi –
that was Jesus! It was!”
Where
they had been exhausted by the long day and its events, now they felt
recharged, refreshed, full of energy. Laughing and shouting and taking bites of
the bread their Messiah had just blessed right in front of them, they
practically ran the whole seven miles back to Jerusalem.
The instant of their recognition of Jesus is the subject of
that painting; I’m assuming it’s Cleopas on the left.
I don’t know about you, but I think I would have died on the
spot… or sprouted wings and flown directly to Jerusalem, bursting right through
the roof of the house.
(More reflections on this over the remainder of Lent, and at
Easter) Shalom aleikhem.
[The comment below – unrelated – soon appeared; I got in touch
with her, and we soon had a good bilingual conversation going. And, years
afterward, I don't remember anything about a "comment on Christian
Analysis"; I'd like to see what that was about.]
heaintthroughwithmeyet Mar 13, 2007
Hi, sorry I am not here to aomment on your
post, BUT… How come you into a german language website/radio? Are you german?
I saw your comment on Christian Analysis just
a moment ago and ended up here. I would appreciate a reply
Thanks and Blessings
Andrea
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