Saturday, May 3, 2014

Walkin' to Emmaus

from the St. Albans Psalter
May 3, 2014
Walkin’ to Emmaus[1]

It is, frankly, one of those stories that, if you didn’t believe the Bible, you wouldn’t believe it. Or, if you do believe the Bible, it’s one of those stories so improbable, how could it not be true?
  
Two guys walk into a bar, or they’re walking from Jerusalem to a town called Springville. It’s a good walk, maybe seven miles. So, they pass the time by talking along the way, all the things that had been going on in the big city.
     And Jesus, Jesus himself, Luke says, comes up with them and walks along. And they can see him, but they can’t see who he is. God prevents it, for reasons Luke doesn’t give and I’ve never understood. But Jesus, whom they don’t recognize as Jesus, breaks into the conversation: “What’s the buzz?” (because he’s a fan of Andrew Lloyd Weber)
     They stop, dead in their tracks. A bit exasperated, one of the two – according to Luke, Cleopas, who according to 2nd- or 3rd-century legend was one of Joseph’s brothers, in short, Jesus’ uncle - Cleopas asks, “Where have you been, or if you’ve been here, are you the only one in Jerusalem that doesn't know ‘the buzz,’ as you put it?”
     Jesus says, “No,” which can’t be the truth, because “the buzz” that Cleopas and whoever is with him − Nathanael according to a 10th-century legend, Mrs. Cleopas (Jesus’ aunt) according to a 20th-century one − are talking about is “the buzz” about “the things that happened to Jesus”; or so Luke describes it.
     But the two go on: “The man was a great prophet of God, but the chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced; the sentence was death, and he was crucified. And we had hoped he was going to be the one that would set us free.”

Stop. Or, pause. Take a breath.
     I have what I know about this story from notes my cousin Jack took when he was a divinity student. So far, I know this: The difference between chief priests and rulers and Cleopas and his friends is this: priests and rulers do, Cleopas and his friends hope.
     The word “legend” appears eight or eleven times in Jack’s notes. Bultmann seemed to think that the whole story is legend; at least, it has that feel: God appears and walks among men in “simple human form,” as he does in the garden, or when he talks to Hagar or Abraham (Genesis 3, 16, 18). Sometimes we recognize him, sometimes we don’t, and sometimes afterward, we think, “Who was that masked man? − Wait, I know!  Yes, must have been . . . God!)
     I got “Springville” from the notes, too. They say “Emmaus” in Hebrew means “spring.” Add to that, we don’t have any idea where it was, except somewhere within a seven-mile-radius circle around Jerusalem.

Onward. Cleopas goes on.
     The one we thought would set us free, the authorities executed him. “But some of the women with us said that when they went at dawn to the tomb, it was empty. His body was gone, but there were angels; and the angels told the women that he’s still alive. So others went, men, and the women were right: the tomb was empty. But they didn’t see the angels . . . or him.

At this point, Jack’s notes say: “See Mark 16:12 – actually begin at verse 9.”
     What happens there is this: Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene, and she goes to tell the disciples, who are too busy “mourning and weeping” to believe her. Then he appears “in another form” − whatever that means − to two of them as they went walking into the country. But when they come back and tell the rest, they don’t believe them either.

What happens now here.
     The still-unrecognized Jesus calls Cleopas and the other, “foolish,” because they don’t believe the prophets, who, according to him, said the messiah would have to suffer things like this and then “enter his glory.” And he goes on to explain to them all that was said about him in all the scriptures from the books of Moses in the beginning right through the prophets.
     What they get out of this we don’t know. The next thing we do know they’re in Springville and Jesus pretends he’s going on. But they say, “No. Stay with us; it will soon be dark. So, he does.
     And when they sit down to eat, he picks up the bread and says the blessing; then he tears the bread giving each a piece. And their eyes that God had closed – for whatever reason then – he opens – for whatever reason now; and they recognize him: it’s Jesus. And he vanishes. Poof!

Here’s something else from the notes.
     It’s a quote from − all I can tell, a book or an article by someone named “Madison”: “the mysterious coming and going of the Risen One shows that the ordinary plane of terrestrial experience has been left behind.” Which is why I said at the beginning that if we don’t believe that be possible,[2] we won’t believe the story. And vice versa.

It’s then, after he’s gone, that they say, “Didn’t we suspect that all along. Wasn’t it like a fire burning inside us when we were walking along the road with him, and he was explaining from Moses to the prophets to us?
     So, though it’s getting dark and will be dark long before they get there, they head back to Jerusalem. There they find the eleven disciples gathered together with a bunch of others, and they are chanting, “The Lord is risen.” We may not have believed Mary Magdalene and the other women, but “Simon has seen him.” “The Lord is risen. Simon has seen him.
     And Cleopas and whoever was and is with him say, “We saw him, too. He explained everything to us while we were walking home, and then when we sat down to eat, at grace we saw who it was, just before he vanished.”

And they begin arguing among themselves about the time. When was that? Did Cleopas see him first or Peter? Did Peter see him first or Cleopas?
     Or, say Cleopas saw him first: who recognized him first?[3]

(bicbw − cts)[4]



[1] To the tune of “Walkin’ to New Orleans.”
[2] For my older readers, note the elegant use of the present subjunctive. For my younger readers, that’s what that is, the present subjunctive, elegantly used.
[3] And if you think that if Cleopas (and the other) saw him first, they must have recognized him first, because he was with them all along, not disappearing until they did recognize him, then you’re still hung up “the ordinary plane of terrestrial experience,” because he could have gone back in time to before they met him on the road and met Peter somewhere else. Two men went into a bar, Peter and Jesus . . . .
[4] Not only “because i could be wrong” but also “consider the source.”

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