Finding the extraordinary in the mundane

Rembrandt, born in 1606, has the status of being a household name today, much like Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci. In an era where art has seemingly become the province of the few—the highly sophisticated connoisseurs—how is it that a painter from the 17th century still speaks to popular audiences and experts alike, grade school children as well as Ph.D.s?

Holland in the 1600s was a place of growth for the new middle class, and as such was a culture ripe for the development of a new approach to painting. The so-called Dutch Masters are dear to us all because they intended their art to possess a broad appeal, employing both subject matter and techniques that anyone could enjoy. Their art was made for everyday folk—not just the intelligent­sia or aristocracy—and they deliberately chose to celebrate homely pleasures in their paintings: things like a delicious meal at the table, a lovely country road with fields extending in all directions, portraits of common people, or Biblical stories that everyone had read.

In Rembrandt van Rijn’s little painting Supper at Emmaus, the great Dutch master invites us into the mystery of Jesus’ self-disclosure at the table in Emmaus to two disciples after His resurrection. About the size of a legal pad, this diminutive piece packs a wallop that is mural-scale. We feel the astonishment of one disciple as he suddenly recognizes the resurrected Jesus. We sink down on our knees with the passionate devotion of his fellow traveler in the shadows of the foreground as he hugs Jesus’ legs and buries his face in the Master’s cloak. The wondering face of the first serves as a kind of portrait-mirror of us—the viewer—and the second disciple serves as an invitation to intimate communion with our loving Lord.

We find ourselves at the very table of the Mysterious Stranger as He makes Himself known in the breaking of the bread.

The composition of this small masterpiece amplifies the narrative in telling ways: The entire painting is dramatically divided in half by a strong diagonal beginning in the upper right of the background and continuing in striking light and dark through the shadowy figure of Christ and the kneeling disciple—causing an instability that would normally be avoided by painters. Rembrandt violates the viewer’s expectation of a certain compositional balance in service of the story—and this diagonal division of the image with heavy use of chiaroscuro drives home the message: We are in the presence of God in resurrected human form. We should tremble!

Rembrandt’s Supper at Emmaus (circa 1628, oil on wood panel). Artefact / Alamy

Rembrandt is best known for his portraits and Biblical subjects—and even more for his late self-portraits—revealing a melancholy, aging artist reflecting on his life after success and fame have abandoned him. But this modest painting of a favorite Biblical story is rightfully deemed a masterpiece because of the insight embedded in it: The miraculous is found in the mundane—in the breaking of bread and in the everyday frame of our lives. A woman in the background preparing supper has no idea what is happening in the foreground as this most meaningful of events unfolds. God reveals Himself in the daily shadows as we await the final triumphant return of Christ in the dazzling light of His glory.

In the meantime, we carry on and hope that we are sojourning with the Lord on our way, walking familiar roads, talking with friends, taking our meals. Jesus is with us, and we need only open our eyes to see Him in “the least of these”—the people that the Lord entrusts to our care. Rembrandt’s insight points us toward this faithfulness-in-­the-commonplace. And the artist’s deliberate choice to display this milestone moment in modest scale further drives home the message: “I am with you, even unto the end of the age.”

—Bruce Herman is a painter, writer, and speaker who has exhibited nationally and internationally for over 50 years. He is professor of art (retired) and founder of the art department at Gordon College.