[Previous: lines 487-509]
Two disciples, on the road to Emmaus, are joined by a third man they don't recognise.
“Non tulit ulteriùs, contraque haec reddidit ille: [510]------------
‘non pudet ô semper caecos, et lucis egentes?
Nonne ducis vestri quondam crudelia vates
funera praedixere omnes, casusque nefandos
tot veterum monimenta docent haud credita vobis?
Sponte sua leto caput obvius obtulit ipse [515]
unus pro multis, patrias quo flecteret iras,
atque iter ipse suo signaret ad astra cruore.
Haud ita vos ille erudiit?nam saepe futura
haec eadem de se longè ante retexit amicis:
atque equidem, memini, nuper media urbe canebat, [520]
obscura sed verborum rem ambage tegebat.
Nunc autem manifesta patent, nunc omnia aperta,
nube palam ablatâ, nec spes fovistis inanes.
En rex, qui positas conseverat ordine vites,
praetendens sepem insidiis hominumque ferarumque, [525]
omnibus immissis incassum ex urbe ministris,
quos leto dedit insontes manus effera agrestûm,
demum infelices natum ipsum misit in agros.
Nam Pater omnipotens, post tot fera funera vatum,
ipse suum iussit Natum descendere Olympo. [530]
Ecce, Palaestini furiis immanibus acti
natum etiam hauserunt crudeli funere herilem:
haud impunè tamen: rex urbe ultricibus armis
iamiam aderit, flammisque feros agitabit agrestes:
et pangenda aliis credet vineta colonis.’” [535]
“At last he turned to us and said these words: [510]------------
‘Are not you ashamed, you always-blind in light?
The prophets all predicted your leader’s cruel
death, did they not? Wasn’t this shameful end
foretold in ancient records? Didn’t you believe them?
Of his free will he went to meet his death [515]
one man saving all from the Father’s wrath:
His blood-sacrifice marks the path to the stars.
Is this grief how he taught you? He often spoke
to his disciples of what was to come:
Indeed, I myself recall, in the city [520]
he was speaking, darkly riddling his meaning.
But now it is clear, everything is revealed,
all clouds dispersed—you have not hoped in vain.
Picture a king, who laid his vines in a row,
and built a fence to keep out men and beasts, [525]
He sent his servants from the city—in vain!
For, though innocent, an angry mob slew them.
At last he sent his son to these ill-starred fields.
So the great Father, after his prophets’ deaths,
sent down his son from immortal Olympus. [530]
And think how Palestine, driven by mad rage
betrayed that son and heir to a cruel death.
But it shan’t go unpunished: the king returns
avenging to the city, to burn these farmers
and give his vines to be tended by others.’” [535]
Cleophas (the narrator here) still doesn't recognise Christ, even after he starts speaking like this. He doesn't ask himself: wait, this geezer seems to possess an awful lot of insider-knowledge on Jesus. I wonder if ...? I suppose that's the point: the stubbornness that takes hold when our incapacity shades into an absolute refusal to see. It goes on, this stubbornness: they invite the stranger to dine with them in Emmaus, and only right at the end (this is the next section, up tomorrow) do they realise who he's been all along.
Some theologians wonder whether ‘Cleophas’ is actually a variant of the name ‘Cephas’, that is, Saint Peter. I can see that the later church, having already fixed on Peter's fallibility (denying the Christ he knew very well), might well decide that having him also failing to recognise that same Christ might look inconsistent, especially for the rock on which the Church as such was then founded. Although it's also true that ‘Cleophas’ and ‘Cephas’ are different Jewish names. One book [G. Lohfink, Die Himmelfahrt Jesu. Untersuchungen zu den Himmelfahrts- und Erhöhungstexten bei Lukas (Munich: Kösel, 1971) ... which, I confess, I read about rather than actually reading] argues that the original gospel narrative had all the disciples failing to recognise the risen Christ until he actually ascended into heaven, at which point they all fell down and started believing. But, Lohfink thinks, that later revision moved recognition and acceptance earlier in the narrative. I've no idea as to how plausible this idea is.
Archaelogists have had trouble pinning down where the Biblical Emmaus actually was.
With respect to the resurrection appearances of Christ, the specific place that is mentioned in addition to Jerusalem and its environs and Galilee is on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24:13-35). Here (Lk 24:13) Emmaus (Εμμαούς) is said to be at a distance of 60 stadia (σταδίους έξήκοντα) (about ‘seven miles’) from Jerusalem, according to Papyrus Bodmer χιν (P75 of the early third century), Codex Vaticanus, The modern village of elQubeibeh is beyond Nebi Samwil on the road that runs northwest from Jerusalem and is at a distance of seven or eight miles from the city. The ancient name of the place is unknown, however, for the Arabic name means only ‘a little dome,’ possibly referring to a small Muslim shrine, and appears first in the time of the Crusades.[Jack Finegan, ‘Emmaus’, The Life of Jesus and the Beginning of the Early Church (Princeton University Press 1992), 287]There are other mansucript traditions, however: the distance from Jerusalem is given as ‘160 stadia (έκατον έξήκοντα) (about eighteen miles)’ in the ‘Codex Sinaiticus and some other manuscripts, including the Palestinian Syriac.’ Finegan finds a rather larger town called ‘Amwas’ at this distance, and considers it the more likely site. Sounds right to me.
At the head of this post: Rembrandt’s ‘Road to Emmaus’.
[Next: lines 536-559]
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