Caravaggio, The Supper at Emmaus
During my trip to London in March, I particularly enjoyed my visit to the National Gallery, which has a huge collection of medieval, renaissance, and early modern art. I enjoyed everything I saw–works by Michelangelo and Raphael, Rubens and Rembrandt, Monet and Van Gogh. The painting that moved me the most, though (even though I had seen it a few years earlier when it came to Atlanta) was Caravaggio’s (1601) The Supper at Emmaus. This being the season of Easter, it seems appropriate to write about that painting and the Biblical account from which it is drawn.
The gospel of Luke tells the story. On Resurrection Sunday, two of Jesus’ disciples were walking from Jerusalem to the nearby town of Emmaus. Jesus approached them on the road, “but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” (Luke 24:16, NRSV) When Jesus asked what they were talking about, they told of his arrest and crucifixion. They lamented, “But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” (vs. 21). Jesus walked with them and explains to them “the things about himself in all the scriptures.” (v. 27)
It’s not clear why the disciples didn’t recognize Jesus. Other followers of Christ also had difficulty recognizing the post-Resurrection Christ, so perhaps he looked different in some way. Caravaggio paints him without a beard, thereby suggesting a change in appearance. I have seen people I knew after a period of time and had difficulty recognizing them. It wasn’t usually that their features had changed dramatically; I suspect that something transformative had happened in their lives, and the musculature of their faces had changed as a result. Couldn’t death and resurrection have had the same transformative effect on Jesus?
I wonder whether the disciples’ mindset at the time was another factor that impaired their ability to perceive Jesus for who he was. They had evidence of the resurrection: They told Jesus that women from among their number had found the tomb empty and had reported “a vision of angels who said that he was alive.” (v. 23) Though this made an impression, it apparently wasn’t convincing, for the disciples concluded with the comment that, though others in the group had found the tomb as the women had said, “they did not see him.” (v. 24) They seem to have been predisposed to discount evidence that Jesus could be alive, despite his previous claim that he would rise again.
We all have times when something is so outside our expectations that we can’t see it accurately, at least at first. I remember my first thought upon hearing on the radio that two planes had crashed into the World Trade Center was that there couldn’t have been two such accidental crashes on the same day, so the report must be wrong. I’m sure that my misconceptions also keep me from recognizing Jesus. In my psychology practice, I worked for at least ten years with a mildly mentally retarded young woman who had chronic depression and anxiety. She was frustrated and discouraged because her limitations kept her from achieving her goals—she wanted to live on her own, to get a driver’s license, to marry. She had a simple but unshakeable faith in God, but felt she let him down when she squabbled with her controlling parents and manipulative brother. I worked to help her with all these problems, but as much as anything, I was her friend and confidant. A few years before she died, I started having a strong sense that God was present during our sessions and that the work we were doing together was holy. It struck me that encouraging and helping her was equivalent to ministering to Christ. Why did it take me many years before having that revelation? Probably it was because I was blinded by the degree of her impairment. I wonder how many times Christ has come to me in the guise of someone in need and I didn’t recognize him.
In Luke’s account, as the travelers came to Emmaus, Jesus acted as if he were going further, but the disciples urged him to stay the night with them. It’s interesting that they recognized who Christ was only after showing him hospitality. It was as Christ blessed the bread and gave it to them that “their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.” (vs. 31) Caravaggio paints the moment of recognition. Christ is in the middle of the composition, reaching toward the viewer to bless the meal on the table, and, by extension, to bless the disciples and the viewer. Both disciples are startled; the one on the right throws his arms wide, and the one on the left has his hands on the arms of his chair, about to jump to his feet. The outstretched arm of the one disciple and the elbow of the other seem to protrude out of the pictorial plane. A bowl of fruit balances precariously on the edge of the table, as if it is about to spill into the viewer’s lap. These devices pull the viewer into the scene; it’s not just the disciples, but we as well who are invited to recognize the resurrected Christ. Meanwhile, the innkeeper standing behind Christ appears stolid and unmoved. The point seems to be that recognition comes to those who have been prepared for it. What prepared the disciples? Listening to Christ as they walked together on the road. Those of us who listen to Christ’s story today do so in hopes that we will be like the disciples, not like the innkeeper, during moments of epiphany.
Life Assays 
June 28, 2011 at 4:57 am
I’m from India..born into a muslim family in a Northern district of Kerala, a South Indian town. I had my schooling in a christian school run by missioanry nuns of the Apostolic Carmel. I’ve been living in North India for a good part of my life and I’ve travelled a bit within this country. I have been practising Vipassana meditation for the past few years and that is based on the Buddha’s teachings. That is to say, I’ve got a bit of all the religions that are practised in this country into my psyche. And the end of it all, this is what I beleive..there is some force running through everything that we can perceive with our senses and I’m quite sure that there is a lot more that is beyond our cognitive powers. There have been amongst us humans people who must have had a glimpse of that oneness….where there is no separation of that source of universal energy and the receptacles through which it flows. It is called “Advaita” (non dualism) in Hindu philosophy. That makes sense to me . But just think how difficult it would be to understand just off hand..we who have been used to repositting power to reward and punish in some outside anthromorphic entity. So Krishna from India , Jesus from Jerusalem and Mohammed from Arabia would have had to present it to the people in ways that could be understood by them. If we are all a part of one, then the possibility of resurrection goes with it, does it not? not just in the case of Jesus , but in every animate and inaminate thing. Matter cannot be destroyed, says science and everything is about the transformation of one form of energy to another. That’s evident in nature too…Dust we are and to dust we will return and from there, our molecules will rearrange themselves to a tree or a deer prancing in the wild, or a rose spreading fragrance or a bee with its sting or the scorpion or the snake…who knows?
June 30, 2011 at 7:36 pm
What a rich set of religious experiences you’ve had! It’s wonderful that you’ve been able to weave them into an intricate pattern of understanding. As for myself, I grew up in the Christian tradition. I have read in other traditions; I find both remarkable similarities and irreconcilable conflicts between the various ways that different religions explain the nature of reality. I appeciate all I have learned, but do favor the Christian tradition at most points of difference.