Here is a 14th century fresco from the Grachanitsa Monastery in Serbia:

Though presented in a very formal manner, it depicts the New Testament tale found in Luke 24:13-35.  The story relates that on the same day the tomb of Jesus was found empty (“Resurrection Sunday), two disciples were on the way to the village of Emmaus.  Early Greek manuscripts of “Luke” vary in the distance given Emmaus from Jerusalem, with some saying 60 stadia  — the equivalent of nearly seven miles, while others give 160 stadia — a figure closer to 18 miles.

On the way, they met a person they did not recognize, who asked what the two were talking about.  They told him of Jesus, about the crucifixion, and that some women who had gone to his tomb had seen a vision of angels, who said Jesus was alive.

In the Gospel tale, only one of these disciples is identified by name — Kleopas/Cleopas.  There was much speculation about the identity of the other disciple, with some giving his name as Simeon, son of Kleopas, others suggesting it might have been Nathaniel or Nicodemus, or even perhaps it was a female — the wife of Kleopas.  But in Eastern Orthodox iconography, the other disciple is generally identified as Luke the Evangelist himself.    That is why in this detail, we see Kleopas at left, and the figure at right is shown with the characteristics traditionally given Luke in icons:

In the first image above, the person they meet on the road is Jesus in his customary form.

The central image of the same fresco shows the two disciples sitting at a table in Emmaus.  It depicts Jesus breaking the bread, which in the New Testament tale is the  moment when the two disciples suddenly recognize him.  Then he vanishes:

In another fresco however — this time from the Dechani Monastery in Serbia (also 14th century) — we find something different:

Here the central image — tucked between the seeing of the empty tomb by Peter and the supper at Emmaus — is of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.  But in this version, the Jesus they meet is not shown in his conventional form.  Instead we see the image of Jesus called “In Another Form.”

We get a better look at that little-known manner of depicting Jesus in the “Supper at Emmaus” segment:

As you can see, this image does not look at all like the conventional depictions of Jesus.  The “Jesus in Another Form” iconographic type is discussed in this earlier posting:


The only other place in the New Testament where we find a tale of two disciples meeting a man on the road to Emmaus is in the “longer ending” added later to the Gospel called “of Mark” after verse 16:8, which is where the oldest manuscripts of Mark end with the story of  the frightened women running from the tomb.  That “longer ending” version of the story (Mark 16:12-13) says only:

After that he appeared in another form to two of them, as they walked, and went into the country.  And they went and told it to the rest; they did not believe them.”

Now interestingly, this brief account contradicts, in one particular, that in Luke:33-34.  As we see, in the “longer ending” Mark account, when the two “Emmaus” disciples return to the rest, they tell them of the meeting with Jesus. but “they did not believe them.”  The two were not believed by the “rest” in Jerusalem.

This is how it happens in Luke:

“And they [the Emmaus disciples] rose up the same hour, and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven gathered together and those that were with them saying, ‘The Lord is risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon.'”

So in the Luke account the “rest” in Jerusalem do not doubt the story of the Emmaus disciples, but add their own confirmation by saying that Jesus is truly risen, and has appeared to Simon.

At far right in the Grachanitsa fresco at the beginning of this posting, we see the two Emmaus disciples telling their story to the “rest” in Jerusalem.



Here is a 16th century icon from the Khilandari Monastery on Athos that combines a biblical parable with its interpretation:

It is the tale of the Prodigal Son (Блудный сын/Bludnuiy suin), found in Luke 15.  You will find that text at the end of this posting.

Basically, it is the story of a young man who asks his father for his share of the family money, and then goes off to a distant place, where he wastes all the money in “riotous living.”  Now poor, he takes a job caring for swine.  Miserable, he decides to return to his father, admitting his mistake.  His father receives him joyously and celebrates his return with a feast.  This of course symbolizes the forgiveness by God of sinners who repent.

In the icon, we see the son at lower right, pondering his options among the swine:

At lower left we see him received back home by his father, shown here as Jesus.  And above them is shown the “ joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repents.”  The bizarre class of angels in the form of winged rings called “Thrones” is included, and just above them the cushion representing the heavenly throne.

The Khilandari Monastery on Athos was founded for Serbian monks, so it is not surprising to find that the inscription on this icon is in Slavic rather than Greek:

It is somewhat damaged, but nonetheless we can make out some of the letters.
IC XC ПРИЕМЛЕ И СПАСЕННА “Jesus Christ Receives and Saves…,”

So we may gloss it a bit and assume it means something like “Jesus Christ Receives and Saves the Prodigal Son,” which if not exact is nonetheless what the scene depicts.

There is a 14th century fresco in the Balkany Monastery in Serbia that is virtually identical in its elements, if less impressive visually:

It has a simple title inscription of two widely-spaced words at the top:

It reads:


It is referring to an annual commemoration in the Eastern Orthodox Church calendar, the Sunday of the Prodigal Son, which the Russians call Неделя о блудном сыне — Nedelya o bludnom suine,  and the Greeks Ἡ κυριακὴ τοῦ ἀσώτου  — He Kyriake tou asotou (pronounced ee kiriaki too asotoo in modern Greek).  This Sunday of the Prodigal Son is one of several Sunday commemorations preceding Lent, each of which has its biblical source and icon.  These Sundays are:

5th before Lent:  The Sunday of Zacchaeus, represented by Jesus meeting Zacchaeus, who has climbed a sycamore tree, Luke 19).

4th before Lent:  The Sunday of the Publican and Pharisee, represented by the Parable of the Publican and the Pharisee, Luke 18.9.

3rd before Lent:  The Sunday of the Prodigal Son, represented by the Parable of the Prodigal Son, Luke 15.

2nd before Lent:  The Sunday of the Last Judgment (“Meatfare Sunday”), represented by the Parable of the Last Judgment, Matthew 25.31–46.

1st before Lent:  Forgiveness Sunday (“Cheesefare Sunday”), represented by the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden, Genesis 3.

So this symbolic icon in which Jesus represents the welcoming father of the biblical tale is the icon for the Sunday of the Prodigal Son.

There are, however, icons of the “Parable of the Prodigal Son” that do not include Jesus, but merely show the conventional father of the biblical tale receiving the prodigal, often with the feast given on the son’s return shown in the background, as well as additional details from the story

Here is the biblical account from Luke 15:10-24:

Likewise, I say to you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repents.

And he said, A certain man had two sons:  And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falls to me. And he divided to them his living.

And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living.  And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want.  And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine.

And he would gladly have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave to him.  And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!  I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before you, And am no more worthy to be called your son: make me as one of your hired servants.

And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.  And the son said to him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight, and am no more worthy to be called your son.   But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet:  And bring here the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry:  For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.



Yesterday we looked at an icon type in which Jesus heals a paralytic, then tells the man to take up his bed and walk.  Today we will look at another type in which that happens.  Here is an example, a 14th century ceiling fresco from Pech, Serbia:

The title inscription reads:

Khristos Istsyeliaet Rasslabliennago
“Christ Heals the Paralytic.”

Here is the story as found in John 5: 1-15:

“After this there was a feast of the Jews; and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

Now there is at Jerusalem by the sheep market a pool, which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches.   In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, [waiting for the moving of the water.  For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.]  And a certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years.

When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he says to him, Will you be made whole?  The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steps down before me.

Jesus says to him, Rise, take up your bed, and walk.  And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the sabbath.

The Jews therefore said to him that was cured, It is the sabbath day: it is not lawful for you to carry your bed.   He answered them, He that made me whole, the same said to me, Take up your bed, and walk.

Then asked they him, What man is that which said to you, Take up your bed, and walk?  And he that was healed knew not who it was: for Jesus had conveyed himself away, a multitude being in that place.

Afterward Jesus finds him in the temple, and said to him, Behold, you are made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come to you.

The man departed, and told the Jews that it was Jesus, which had made him whole.”

For those of you who are interested in the manuscript history of the New Testament, the portion of the text I have put in brackets and bold type — the story of the angel troubling the waters — is missing from the earliest manuscripts.  The earliest Greek manuscript of John in which it appears is 6th century.  It is, however, included in an Old Latin 4th century version.

The tale of the angel stirring the waters of Bethesda is mentioned by Tertullian in chapter 5 of his 3rd century work On Baptism:

If it seems a novelty for an angel to be present in waters, an example of what was to come to pass has forerun. An angel, by his intervention, was wont to stir the pool at Bethsaida. They who were complaining of ill-health used to watch for him; for whoever had been the first to descend into them, after his washing, ceased to complain.

But in the same chapter, Tertullian also warns against evil spirits lurking in waters here and there:

“Are there not other cases too, in which, without any sacrament, unclean spirits brood on waters, in spurious imitation of that brooding of the Divine Spirit in the very beginning? Witness all shady founts, and all unfrequented brooks, and the ponds in the baths, and the conduits in private houses, or the cisterns and wells which are said to have the property of spiriting away, through the power, that is, of a hurtful spirit. Men whom waters have drowned or affected with madness or with fear, they call nymph-caught, or lymphatic, or hydro-phobic. Why have we adduced these instances? Lest any think it too hard for belief that a holy angel of God should grant his presence to waters, to temper them to man’s salvation; while the evil angel holds frequent profane commerce with the selfsame element to man’s ruin.”

The tale of the angel troubling the waters was also mentioned by Chrysostom and Ambrose in the 4th century.  The problem is that the various early manuscripts are rather garbled as to whether the incident is omitted entirely or given only in part.

But back to the iconography.  You will notice in the Pech fresco that the painter has carefully depicted the “five porches.” at the Pool of Bethesda, but has not shown the actual pool.  In some examples we see the pool, while in others we see water pouring into five separate small tanks, or even only one tank.  So there is considerable variation in how the image is presented, but the main elements are the figure of Jesus and the figure of healed man carrying his bed (some show him twice, first lying on his bed, then carrying it).

In the Eastern Orthodox Church calendar, the fourth Sunday after Easter is called the Неде́ля о рассла́бленном — Nedelya o rasslablennom (Greek Κυριακή τοῦ Παραλύτου) — Kyriake tou Paralytou), because on that day the liturgical reading is the story of the healing of the paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda.


Unless you are of Serbian background, it is unlikely that you have ever heard of the saint depicted in this fresco:


The pose is typical of that used in the Balkans for royal persons who have paid for the building of a church or monastery.  Here the saint offers to Jesus (seen at right) the Monastery of Dechani, in Serbia.

But who is this fellow?  If we look at a detail in an icon of him, we will soon find out.  And looking at the inscription is the point of this posting, because it will not only introduce a Serbian variant term, but also will remind you of the other aspect of Cyrillic letters.


Yes, this is a Serbian icon.  But if you have been keeping up with the postings on how to read inscriptions on Russian icons, this one should present only a couple of problems.

The title inscription, put all together, reads:


You should recognize СТЫИ as Svyatuiy, “Holy.”  And you should recognize СТЕФАН as the name Stefan, or “Stephen” in English form.  That leaves only КРЛЬ, ОУРОШЬ, and the lone letter Г.

КРЛЬ (abbreviation for КРАЉ), transliterated Kral’ (Kralj), means “monarch” or “king.”  The feminine form is краљица —kral’itsa  So when you see that word in that spelling used on an icon, the image is likely Serbian, not Russian, because Russians commonly use the word tsar’ (which also means “emperor”) for “king,” even though Russian does have the related word король — korol’ — meaning “king” (and sometimes “baron”).  Oddly enough, kral’ is related to the English name Charles, or in its Latin form Carolus/Carol.  Some people may think “Carol” only a female name, but originally it was a masculine name, which accounts for the 20th century King Carol of Romania.

ОУРОШЬ Ourosh — is a dynastic name, the name of a family.

Г — the single letter G — might really mystify you unless you recall that in Church Slavic, letters are used not only as sounds but also as numbers.  So the first three numbers in Church Slavic are:

А – 1
В – 2
Г – 3

Perhaps you have already figured it out.  The inscription reads:

“HOLY KING STEFAN UROSH [THE] THIRD,” the “3” here being for “Third.”

Stefan Urosh III (c. 1275-1331), was a Serbian king later made a saint in Serbian Orthodoxy.  He is also known as Стефан Дечански — Stefan Dechanski — Stefan of Dechani — because of the important monastery he built there (in Kosovo). Dechani Monastery, called Visoki –“High” Dechani), is today noted for its 14th century frescoes on the interior of a romanesque structure.

Stefan Urosh III had an interesting life (I won’t go into that today), though the story is somewhat barbaric in detail.