Christ, the One Who Suffered And Entered Into His Glory

Luke 24:13-35

Wright, Tom. Luke for Everyone (New Testament for Everyone) (p. 291-299). SPCK. Kindle Edition.

LUKE 24.13–27

On the Road to Emmaus

If the story of the prodigal son has a claim to be the finest story Jesus ever told, the tale of the two on the road to Emmaus must have an equal claim to be the finest scene Luke ever sketched. It’s a shame to break it in half, as we’ve done (the story continues to verse 35); but it would be even more of a pity to squash it all together into one short comment, when it is as rich in its detail as it is in its outline.

At the level of drama it has everything. Sorrow, suspense, puzzlement, gradual dawning of light; then, in the second half, unexpected actions, astonished recognition, a flurry of excitement and activity. It is both a wonderful, unique, spellbinding tale, and also a model (and Luke surely knew this) for a great deal of what being a Christian, from that day to this, is all about. The slow, sad dismay at the failure of human hopes; the turning to someone who might or might not help; the discovery that in scripture, all unexpected, there lay keys which might unlock the central mysteries and enable us to find the truth; the sudden realization of Jesus himself, present with us, warming our hearts with his truth, showing us himself as bread is broken. This describes the experience of innumerable Christians, and indeed goes quite a long way to explaining what it is about Christianity that grasps us and holds us in the face of so much that is wrong with the world, with the church, and with ourselves.

The story as a whole is often used, and rightly so, as a focus for meditation, not least when people find themselves in difficulties. Bring your problem, your agony, on the road to Emmaus with Cleopas and his companion; be prepared to share it in prayer with the stranger who approaches; and learn to listen for his voice, explaining, leading forwards, warming your heart by applying scripture to what’s going on. Learn to live inside this story, and you will find it inexhaustible.

The couple on the road may well have been husband and wife, Cleopas and Mary (see John 19.25; ‘Clopas’ there is probably the same person as ‘Cleopas’ here). Though we cannot be sure of this, many couples have found the story a wonderful focus for bringing their lives, their problems and their questions before Jesus.

Even before we start looking for deeper meanings within the story, the surface meaning itself is powerful enough. Cleopas must have thought at first that the stranger might have been a spy; it must have taken a certain amount of courage – though perhaps by then he was beyond caring – to reveal that the two of them were part of Jesus’ following. In any case, the story he tells is simple, profound and poignant. They had regarded Jesus as a prophet, and more than a prophet. God’s power had been present with him in his miracles and his teaching, and they couldn’t doubt that this was the man of God’s choice. He was the one who would redeem Israel. Clearly, for them, this referred (as Luke has been saying all along) to the new Exodus: just as Israel had been ‘redeemed’ from slavery in Egypt at the first Passover, so they had hoped that now Israel would be ‘redeemed’, that God would purchase her freedom. They hoped that Israel would be liberated once for all from pagan domination, free to serve God in peace and holiness.

That’s why the crucifixion was so devastating. It wasn’t just that Jesus had been the bearer of their hopes and he was now dead and gone. It was sharper than that: if Jesus had been the one to redeem Israel, he should have been defeating the pagans, not dying at their hands! Cleopas’s puzzled statement only needs the slightest twist to turn it into a joyful statement of early Christian faith: ‘They crucified him – but we had hoped he would redeem Israel’ would shortly become, ‘They crucified him – and that was how he did redeem Israel.’ And it was, of course, the resurrection that made the difference.

But before they could begin to understand what had just happened they had to be prepared. They, like everybody else in Israel, had been reading the Bible through the wrong end of the telescope. They had been seeing it as the long story of how God would redeem Israel from suffering, but it was instead the story of how God would redeem Israel through suffering; through, in particular, the suffering which would be taken on himself by Israel’s representative, the Messiah. When Luke says that Jesus interpreted to them all the things about himself, throughout the Bible, he doesn’t mean that Jesus collected a few, or even a few dozen, isolated texts, verses chosen at random. He means that the whole story, from Genesis to Chronicles (the last book of the Hebrew Bible; the prophets came earlier), pointed forwards to a fulfilment which could only be found when God’s anointed took Israel’s suffering, and hence the world’s suffering, on to himself, died under its weight, and rose again as the beginning of God’s new creation, God’s new people. This is what had to happen; and now it just had.

It wasn’t simply, then, that they couldn’t recognize him. This is a very strange feature of the resurrection stories, in Matthew (28.17) and John (20.14; 21.4, 12) as well as here. There was nothing in the Jewish resurrection hope to indicate that this would happen, but it seems that Jesus’ body, emerging from the tomb, had been transformed. It was the same, yet different – a mystery which we shall perhaps never unravel until we ourselves share the same risen life. But the fact that they couldn’t recognize Jesus at first seems to have gone with the fact that they couldn’t recognize the events that had just happened as the story of God’s redemption. Perhaps Luke is saying that we can only now know Jesus, can only recognize him in any sense, when we learn to see him within the true story of God, Israel and the world.

For that we need to learn how to read the scriptures; and for that we need, as our teacher, the risen Lord himself. This passage forms one of the most powerful encouragements to pray for his presence, and sense of guidance, whenever we study the Bible, individually, in pairs or in larger groups. We need to be prepared for him to rebuke our foolish and faithless readings, and to listen for his fresh interpretation. Only with him at our side will our hearts burn within us (verse 32), and lead us to the point where we see him face to face.

 

LUKE 24.28–35

Jesus Revealed at Emmaus 

Think of the first meal in the Bible. The moment is heavy with significance. ‘The woman took some of the fruit, and ate it; she gave it to her husband, and he ate it; then the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked’ (Genesis 3.6–7). The tale was told, over and over, as the beginning of the woes that had come upon the human race. Death itself was traced to that moment of rebellion. The whole creation was subjected to decay, futility and sorrow.

Now Luke, echoing that story, describes the first meal of the new creation. ‘He took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them; then the eyes of them both were opened, and they recognized him’ (verse 31). The couple at Emmaus – probably Cleopas and Mary, husband and wife – discover that the long curse has been broken. Death itself has been defeated. God’s new creation, brimming with life and joy and new possibility, has burst in upon the world of decay and sorrow.

Jesus himself, risen from the dead, is the beginning and the sign of this new world. He isn’t just alive again in the same way that Jairus’s daughter, or the widow’s son at Nain, were. They, poor things, would have to face death again in due course. He has, it seems, gone through death and out the other side into a new world, a world of new and deathless creation, still physical only somehow transformed. We shall look at this in more detail when we read the next, and last, section of the gospel.

Luke has, of course, told the story in such a way as to help us live in it ourselves. We too are invited to listen to the exposition of the Bible, to have our hearts burning within us as fresh truth comes out of the old pages and sets us on fire. In this and the following passage Luke emphasizes what the church all too easily forgets: that the careful study of the Bible is meant to bring together head and heart, understanding and excited application. This will happen as we learn to think through the story of God and the world, of Israel and Jesus, not in the way our various cultures try to make us think, but in the way that God himself has sketched out. Only when we see the Old Testament as reaching its natural climax in Jesus will we have understood it. Equally, we will only understand Jesus himself when we see him as the one to whom scripture points, not in isolated prooftexts but in the entire flow of the story. And, when we grasp this, we, like Cleopas and Mary, will find our hearts burning within us.

So, too, we are invited to know Jesus in the breaking of the bread. The way Luke has described the simple mealtime takes our minds back to the upper room, and to many other meals that Jesus had shared with his followers. Cleopas and Mary, not being members of the Twelve, were not present at the Last Supper, but what Jesus did then was (apart from the special words) typical, most likely, of the way he had always broken bread with them. But Luke also intends that his readers should see this simple meal pointing forwards, to the breaking of bread which quickly became the central symbolic action of Jesus’ people. Though Jesus was no longer physically present, they were to discover him living with and in them through this meal (Acts 2.42). Scripture and sacrament, word and meal, are joined tightly together, here as elsewhere. Take scripture away, and the sacrament becomes a piece of magic. Take the sacrament away, and scripture becomes an intellectual or emotional exercise, detached from real life. Put them together, and you have the centre of Christian living as Luke understood it.

There is one more sign of Luke’s artistry to be discovered here. He has told this story as part of his framework for the entire gospel. In 2.41–52 we read how Mary and Joseph went a day’s journey away from Jerusalem, and then, realizing Jesus wasn’t with them, looked for him for three days before discovering him in the Temple with the learned teachers. ‘Didn’t you know’, he said to the frantic Mary, ‘that I would have to be getting involved with my father’s work?’ Now here we have a different couple, likewise at the end of three days’ agony of mental and spiritual searching. ‘Didn’t you know,’ says Jesus to them, in effect, ‘that I would have to be doing my Father’s work?’ The whole gospel story is framed between these very human scenes. Luke has invited us to accompany him on a journey of faith, faith that will take us through anxiety and sorrow to meet the Jesus who has accomplished his Father’s work, and longs to share the secret of it – and the gift of his own presence – with us, his followers.

Luke has therefore described for us, as he said he would, the new Exodus that Jesus would accomplish at Jerusalem (9.31). The real slave-master, keeping the human race in bondage, is death itself. Earthly tyrants borrow power from death to boost their rule; that’s why crucifixion was such a symbol of Roman authority. Victory over death robs the powers of their main threat. Sin, which means humans rebelling against God and so conspiring with death to deface God’s good creation, is likewise defeated. Jesus has led God’s new people out of slavery, and now invites them to accompany him on the new journey to the promised land. The road to Emmaus is just the beginning. Hearing Jesus’ voice in scripture, knowing him in the breaking of bread, is the way. Welcome to God’s new world.


Henry, M., & Scott, T. (1997). Matthew Henry’s Concise Commentary (Lk 24:13–28). Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems.


Verses 13–27
This appearance of Jesus to the two disciples going to Emmaus, happened the same day that he rose from the dead. It well becomes the disciples of Christ to talk together of his death and resurrection; thus they may improve one another’s knowledge, refresh one another’s memory, and stir up each other’s devout affections. And where but two together are well employed in work of that kind, he will come to them, and make a third. Those who seek Christ, shall find him: he will manifest himself to those that inquire after him; and give knowledge to those who use the helps for knowledge which they have. No matter how it was, but so it was, they did not know him; he so ordering it, that they might the more freely discourse with him. Christ’s disciples are often sad and sorrowful, even when they have reason to rejoice; but through the weakness of their faith, they cannot take the comfort offered to them. Though Christ is entered into his state of exaltation, yet he notices the sorrows of his disciples, and is afflicted in their afflictions. Those are strangers in Jerusalem, that know not of the death and sufferings of Jesus. Those who have the knowledge of Christ crucified, should seek to spread that knowledge. Our Lord Jesus reproved them for the weakness of their faith in the Scriptures of the Old Testament. Did we know more of the Divine counsels as far as they are made known in the Scriptures, we should not be subject to the perplexities we often entangle ourselves in. He shows them that the sufferings of Christ were really the appointed way to his glory; but the cross of Christ was that to which they could not reconcile themselves. Beginning at Moses, the first inspired writer of the Old Testament, Jesus expounded to them the things concerning himself. There are many passages throughout all the Scriptures concerning Christ, which it is of great advantage to put together. We cannot go far in any part, but we meet with something that has reference to Christ, some prophecy, some promise, some prayer, some type or other. A golden thread of gospel grace runs through the whole web of the Old Testament. Christ is the best expositor of Scripture; and even after his resurrection, he led people to know the mystery concerning himself, not by advancing new notions, but by showing how the Scripture was fulfilled, and turning them to the earnest study of it.

Verses 28–35
If we would have Christ dwell with us, we must be earnest with him. Those that have experienced the pleasure and profit of communion with him, cannot but desire more of his company. He took bread, and blessed it, and brake, and gave to them. This he did with his usual authority and affection, with the same manner, perhaps with the same words. He here teaches us to crave a blessing on every meal. See how Christ by his Spirit and grace makes himself known to the souls of his people. He opens the Scriptures to them. He meets them at his table, in the ordinance of the Lord’s supper; is known to them in breaking of bread. But the work is completed by the opening of the eyes of their mind; yet it is but short views we have of Christ in this world, but when we enter heaven, we shall see him for ever. They had found the preaching powerful, even when they knew not the preacher. Those Scriptures which speak of Christ, will warm the hearts of his true disciples. That is likely to do most good, which affects us with the love of Jesus in dying for us. It is the duty of those to whom he has shown himself, to let others know what he has done for their souls. It is of great use for the disciples of Christ to compare their experiences, and tell them to each other.


Liefeld, W. L. (1984). Luke. In F. E. Gaebelein (Ed.), The Expositor’s Bible Commentary: Matthew, Mark, Luke (Vol. 8, pp. 1050–1055). Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing House.

2. On the Emmaus road (24:13–35)

The Emmaus story is a literary and spiritual jewel. It is at once a moving story, a testimony to the Resurrection, an explanation of the empty tomb, and an occasion for Luke to summarize several of his major themes. Despite the fact that it has to a superlative degree the ring of truth—what literary scholars call “verisimilitude”—some have considered it legendary (cf. Notes).

13–16 The opening words of v. 13 link this story with the entire Easter event. “Now” (kai idou) moves the reader’s attention to a new and important phase of Luke’s narrative. “That same day” ties the narrative to Jesus’ death and resurrection (cf. the sequence in 23:54, 56; 24:1). Two travelers are speaking together (vv. 14–15); so a valid witness is provided. A twofold witness is necessary according to Jewish law. Furthermore, the concept of witness is, as we have seen, important to Luke. Two witnesses (Simeon and Anna) bore testimony to the Messiah’s arrival (2:25–38); now the two travelers testify to a particular resurrection appearance of Jesus (24:35). The words “of them” (ex autōn, v. 13) do not clearly identify who the two are. They are not two of the Eleven (v. 9; cf. v. 33). Probably they are two of the followers of Jesus who had come to Jerusalem for the Passover. So they had been among the “disciples” who lauded Jesus on his triumphal entry to the city (19:39) and were now returning home. At any rate, the phrase “of them,” like the opening words of v. 13, establishes a continuity with the foregoing events.
The fact that this event occurs when the two disciples “were going” (ēsan poreuomenoi, v. 13) and “walked along” (syneporeueto, v. 15) continues the travel theme prominent in Luke, especially in his unique central section (9:51–19:44). That section begins as Jesus “resolutely set out” (to prosōpon estērisen tou poreuesthai) for Jerusalem (9:51). Now these two are leaving that same city. Shortly after the earlier journey to Jerusalem began, a man had approached Jesus regarding discipleship “as they were walking” (poreuomenōn autōn, 9:57). Now, after the Resurrection, Jesus approaches two disheartened followers as they are walking. Acts continues the theme of Jesus’ disciples traveling, going from Jerusalem to Rome (Paul, in ch. 28) and ultimately to the ends of the earth as “witnesses” (1:8). As for the identity of Emmaus, this is uncertain (cf. Notes). It is enough to know that it is a village near Jerusalem.
The two were talking about events surrounding Jesus’ resurrection. Between the lines of their dialogue, Luke shows their bewilderment. He uses two different verbs, one of them repeated: “they were talking” (hōmiloun, v. 14), “as they talked” (en tō homilein, v. 15), and “discussed” (syzētein). So the tension mounts in preparation for Jesus’ appearance. Luke introduces Jesus into the story with the emphatic “Jesus himself” (autos Iēsous); and his comment that Jesus “walked along with” (syneporeueto) them suggests to us, whether or not Luke intended it, Jesus’ presence with his disciples in the church age. The passive form in “were kept [ekratounto] from recognizing him” (v. 16) may be a “divine passive,” i.e., a means of connoting that an action, the subject of which is not mentioned, is actually the work of God. This device introduces the structural pattern of nonrecognition and recognition, which is central in this beautiful narrative.

17–18 Still another verb describes their discussion; antiballete (“discussed”) reflects the exchange of ideas (lit., “throwing back and forth”). The scene in vv. 14–17 is of a persistent but rather baffled attempt to understand the meaning of this most momentous weekend in history. Luke now uses a different word for walking (peripateō; cf. comments on vv. 13–16). Another mention of walking is certainly not necessary merely to convey that fact, and we may assume that there is a deliberate emphasis on that movement. Therefore it is striking that when Jesus addressed them, the two travelers stopped short and “stood still” (estathēsan). Their attitude at that point was gloomy, perhaps even sullen. Only one of the two (Cleopas) is named (v. 18), probably because he was known to at least some of Luke’s readers. One tradition identifies him as an uncle of Jesus, brother of Joseph, and father of Simeon, who became a leader of the Jerusalem church (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History 3.11; cf. Ellis, Gospel of Luke, p. 894). This is not the same man as Clopas (John 19:25), though the two names are variant spellings of each other.

19–24 What follows constitutes an affirmation about the person and work of Christ that is of great significance for our understanding of Jesus and of Luke’s perception of him. Concerning the opening words, R.J. Dillon (From Eyewitnesses to Ministers of the Word, p. 114) observes, “This characterization, together with the assertion of full publicity amongst the people, contains pointed echoes of Luke’s introductory summary of Jesus’ ministry [in the power of the] Spirit (Luke 4:14; cp. Acts 10:38).” See comments above at 4:14 on the popular response to Jesus. The statement there about his reputation and power precedes the programmatic statement about his ministry under the impetus of the Spirit in 4:18–19. Acts 10:38 is Peter’s summary of Jesus’ powerful, Spirit-filled ministry (cf. Acts 2:22) and includes the statement “he went around doing good.” Peter then tells Cornelius, “We are witnesses of everything” (Acts 10:39), calling to mind Luke 1:2—“eyewitnesses and servants of the word.” The importance of the affirmation of the two disciples here in 24:19 must not in any way be underestimated. It is integral to Luke’s theology and purpose.
“He was a prophet” recalls the passage in chapter 4 just mentioned, where Jesus clearly identified himself with the prophets (4:24). While in Luke’s narrative Jesus is perceived as a prophet (e.g., 7:16; cf. Minear, Heal and Reveal pp. 102–21), the Resurrection affirmed him to be much more, as the two on the Emmaus road are to learn (e.g., v. 26, “the Christ … glory”). The word “prophet” does not appear in what Peter told Cornelius about Jesus (Acts 10:36–43). This is probably not because Cornelius was not Jewish, for Jesus was “Lord of all” (Acts 10:36), but because the word “prophet” was inadequate to comprehend all Jesus is. The term “prophet” is then not so much an invalid as an incomplete characterization of Jesus. Another of Luke’s favorite terms is “people” (laos), used throughout his Gospel for the responsive hearers in Israel (cf. 1:17, 68, 77; 2:10, 31–32). Later Luke will use laos of believing Gentiles (Acts 18:10).
The “chief priests and our rulers” (v. 20) stand in contrast to the “people” (v. 21) as elsewhere in Luke. It was they who “handed him over” for crucifixion. In v. 21 the words “but we” (hemēis de, emphatic) of the two disciples provide still another contrast. Unlike the rulers, they “hoped” that Jesus would bring deliverance. Observe that the verb is “hoped,” not “trusted” (as in KJV); there is a big difference between trusting Jesus as our Deliverer and Savior and hoping that he will prove to be our Deliverer and Savior. The past tense of “hoped” is, under the present circumstances, a pathetic reminder of their inability to recognize Jesus or to believe the report of the empty tomb. Their expectation that he would “redeem Israel” recalls the words of Zechariah in 1:68 (cf. 2:38; 21:28). In view of v. 46 and the passion predictions, the term “third day” had a significance to Luke’s readers. What should have been the day of hope realized was for them the day of hope extinguished.
The final (“in addition,” alla kai) incomprehensible element in the travelers’ report was the report of the empty tomb (v. 22). This looks back to vv. 1–12. Again Luke used the word “body” (v. 23, see comment above on v. 3). The mention of “angels” shows that this is what Luke meant by “men” in v. 4, which is in harmony with the other Gospels. Verse 24 recalls v. 12. In the last words in the report, “him they did not see,” the word “him” (auton) is placed in an emphatic position. The empty tomb without the appearance of Jesus himself was inadequate. It ironically becomes the last sad part of their confused response to Jesus’ question, “What things?” (v. 19).

25–27 The reader of the Greek text will immediately observe following the pronoun auton (“him”) in its emphatic position in v. 24 that it occurs in v. 25 (kai autos, “and he”; NIV, “he”) to refer (still emphatically) to the same person, though he remains unrecognized. “The Stranger seizes the platform from the confused disciple” (Dillon, Eyewitnesses, p. 132). Jesus, who in his transfiguration was superior to Moses and Elijah (9:28–36), now invokes Moses and the Prophets to substantiate the divine plan of his path from suffering to glory (v. 27). The word “all” (v. 25) is a warning not to treat the Scriptures selectively. Such selectivity could lead to the omission of the Messiah’s suffering (v. 26). But “the Christ” (Messiah) did “have to” (edei) suffer. The verb dei, meaning “it is necessary,” is one of Luke’s key words (cf. 2:49; 4:43; 13:16, 33; 15:32; 18:1; 19:5; 21:9; 22:7, 37; 24:7, 44, along with the basic passion prediction of 9:22 that occurs also in Matthew and Mark). The future glory of the Christ (v. 26) was mentioned in the context of the passion prediction, ascribed there to the “Son of Man” (9:26; cf. 21:27). Some have argued that here “glory” is to be understood as a substitute expression for “was raised from the dead” (cf. Dillon, Eyewitnesses, pp. 141ff.). More likely it refers to the honor anticipated in the OT for the Messiah and attributed to the Son of Man in the verses just referred to. The unexpected element in Christ’s messiahship was his suffering. On the other hand, one could hardly argue that Christ’s glory excludes the Resurrection. Paul quoted the OT to prove the necessity of both the suffering and the resurrection of the Messiah (Acts 17:2–3). “Beginning with” (v. 27) probably implies that Jesus drew on all the Scriptures but principally on the Law (Gen-Deut) and the Prophets (Marshall, Gospel of Luke, p. 897). The central subject of these OT passages is “himself.”
For several reasons vv. 25–27 are vitally important. With great clarity they show that the sufferings of Christ, as well as his glory, were predicted in the OT and that all the OT Scriptures are important. They also show that the way the writers of the NT used the OT had its origin, not in their own creativity, but in the postresurrection teachings of Jesus, of which this passage is a paradigm. The passage also exemplifies the role of the OT in Luke’s own theology. Although he does not directly quote the OT Scriptures as many times as Matthew does, nevertheless he alludes frequently to the OT, demonstrating that what God has promised must take place and employing a “proof-from-prophecy” apologetic for the truth of the gospel.

28–32 The invitation for Jesus to stay with the two follows the ancient custom of hospitality. As the afternoon drew on and suppertime approached, the stranger would need food and lodging. Jesus had “acted as if” (prosepoiēsato) he were going to continue his journey (v. 28). The verb prospoieō, in spite of well-meaning efforts to weaken it to avoid any thought of deceit on Jesus’ part (e.g., Plummer, in loc.), often means “pretend” (BAG, LSJ, MM, s.v.). Such a gesture would, like the invitation itself, be appropriate in the custom of those days. While it is probably true, as Plummer says, that Jesus would have gone on, had he not been invited to stay, this polite action seems intended to draw out a very strong response from Cleopas and his companion, who indeed then “urged him strongly” (parebiasanto) to stay (v. 29). In other contexts this verb can mean to force someone to do something.
The recognition scene is the third high point in this narrative, the first two being the long reply of Cleopas and his companion to Jesus’ question and Jesus’ exposition of the OT’s teaching about himself. While from a church perspective some have wrongly seen the Lord’s Supper in the breaking of the bread, we must also realize that a table scene is characteristic of Luke and probably of his special source material (cf. 5:29; 7:36; 14:1, 7, 12, 15–16; and, less obviously, 10:38–40). What is remarkable is that Jesus took the role of the host and broke the bread, giving thanks (v. 30). Of course this recalls the feeding of the five thousand (9:10–17, N.B. v. 16) as well as the Last Supper (22:19), though it was not a celebration of the latter.
As to whether it was through the actual breaking of bread or through divine intervention that the moment of truth came and the two disciples recognized Jesus, the answer must be that it was through both. Whether the two noticed the nail scars (Luke does not say they did), Jesus’ acting as host led to the recognition. At the same time, the passive verb diēnoichthēsan (“were opened”) implies divine action (v. 31), as was the case when Jesus’ identity was hidden from them (v. 16). This provides uniformity in the structure and theological meaning, as God is the revealer of the risen Christ. Note the repetition of Jesus’ opening “the Scriptures” (v. 32) and “their minds” (v. 45).
The narrative ends abruptly as Jesus disappeared and Cleopas and his companion reflected on their feelings of intense inner warmth (cf. Ps 39:3; Jer 20:9; the vocabulary differs but something similar may be in mind). (For a survey of interpretations of kaiomenē [“burning”], see Marshall, Gospel of Luke, pp. 898–99.) The specific occasion of these feelings is the presence of the Lord and his expounding the OT.

33–35 The words “at once” (autē tē hōra, lit., “in the same hour,” v. 33) continue the chronology of the resurrection day (cf. comment at v. 13). The reunion with the Eleven brought assurance to all, as the two disciples fulfilled their role as witnesses (vv. 34–35). They especially spoke of recognizing Jesus when he broke bread with them (v. 35).


Notes


13. The historicity of the Emmaus story has often been challenged (e.g., H.D. Betz, “The Origin and Nature of Christian Faith According to the Emmaus Legend,” Int 23 [1969]: 32–46). There are, indeed, elements of the story many find difficult to accept—not merely the inability of the two to recognize Jesus, but the very appearance of Jesus after his death. But this difficulty relates to the concept one has of the Resurrection itself and of the possibility of a supernatural work of God in the nonrecognition and recognition sequence. There are also similarities to elements in other ancient narratives: We must, however, be careful about drawing conclusions from works written after Luke was. Also we “must not invoke such parallels prematurely, on the basis of mere resemblance, as instruments of interpretation” (Dillon, Eyewitnesses, pp. 73f.). It is impossible to prove or disprove the historicity of a story such as this that exists in no other literature and that, unlike the Resurrection, has produced no effect capable of investigation. Apart from the consideration of alleged legendary elements (remembering that issues of form do not settle issues of historicity, cf. Marshall, Gospel of Luke, p. 891), such issues will be decided on the basis of the setting of the storm both in the resurrection narrative and within Luke’s carefully researched work, with care not to reject what one may consider, a priori, difficult to accept.
13. The location of Emmaus, “about seven miles from Jerusalem,” is of minor concern to the expositor but of historical interest. Attention centers on several possible sites, but certainty is not possible at this time. Two sites are located at an approximately correct distance (one about nine miles away; the other is even closer to Luke’s “sixty stadia”—approximately seven miles). They are Abu-Ghosh and El-Qubeibeh. There is little evidence, however, that either is the site.
Another place, Motza-Illit, is only three and one-half miles from Jerusalem. To identify this with the village in Luke, one has to assume that Luke’s figure of sixty stadia applied to a round trip. In Jesus’ day it was only a “village” (κώμη, kōmē), precisely Luke’s word. Both Josephus and the Talmud mention it, the first as Emmaus and the second as Motza. It is very possible that the Semitic sound of Ha-Motza became Ammaous or Emmaus A Roman colony was established there later in the first century, and so it is now also known as Qaloniya or Colonia. Evidence has come to light of a Byzantine church there, indicating that the site was reverenced. This may well be the true location.
There is still another site, much better known: Imwas (by Latrun), known also as Nicopolis probably since the time of Elagabulus (A.D. 218–22). It was prominent as the place of a great victory of Judas Maccabeus in the second century B.C., described in 1 Macc 3–4. The site continued to be well known throughout Christian history, and it naturally has been favored by many as the NT Emmaus. One serious problem is that it is not 60 but 160 stadia away (a problem Sinaiticus and other MSS seem to have addressed by changing the number to 160). This distance, however, seems long, though not impossible, for the two disciples to have traveled in both directions (cf. v. 33) It would have meant a round trip total of 30 miles in one busy day, with the return trip started no later than early evening. It is possible that there were actually two places known as Emmaus in Jesus’ day: the village, hardly known, 3 1/2 miles or 30 stadia away, and the city, 160 stadia or 19 miles away. It was perhaps the former to which the disciples went on the Resurrection day. See J. Monson, A Survey of the Geographical and Historical Setting of the Bible (Jerusalem: Institute for Holy Land Studies, 1977), pp. 3f., of Benjamin Field Study section; R.M. Mackowski, “Where Is Biblical Emmaus?” Science et Esprit 32 (1980): 93–103.