On this Good Friday, Ellyn von Huben offers a poignant reflection on three depictions of the Crucified Savior which are displayed at the Art Institute of of Chicago. The images and accompanying commentary serve as the occasion for a prayerful recollection of the salvific event of Christ's Paschal Mystery.
In his profound meditation on the last words of Christ, Death on a Friday Afternoon, the late Fr. Richard John Neuhaus begins with a caution to the reader against a rush to Easter. He asks us to linger a while with our crucified Lord. This is a caution that I now reread every Lent. For there is more to Holy Week than stifling the impulse to lunge at a basket of Cadbury Creme Eggs or making reservations for a leisurely Easter brunch. It is the time to linger at the foot of the cross.
With that in mind - in fact, while paging through this Lenten favorite while on the train - I spent an afternoon at the Art Institute of Chicago. I savored time with a variety of exquisite depictions of the Crucifixion, each offering its own specific spiritual gift.
My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
They divide my garments among them,
and for my vesture they cast lots.
But you, O LORD, be not far from me;
O my help, hasten to aid me. (Psalm 22: 19-20)
The Crucifixion by the German Lucas Cranach the Elder, painted in 1538, depicts a diverse crowd in contemporary dress at the foot of the cross. The detail in individuality and variety of expression brings the observer into the moment. We are indeed “there when they crucified our Lord,” in the approach of the ninth hour as the roiling darkness descends. The truths of this pivotal moment transcend the superficialities. I am there in the ugliness of the crowd; I am there in the sorrow of the women; I am there in the crass self-interest of the soldiers gambling while God hangs in anguish above.
And so I may linger at the foot of the cross.
My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
They have pierced my hands and my feet;
I can count all my bones. (Psalm 22: 17-18)
If I had to restrict my visit to just one work I would choose The Crucifixion by Francisco de Zurbaran (c. 1627). The realism, by a Spanish genius influenced by Caravaggio, is breathtaking. The darkness had descended, and Our Lord is depicted against this stark background at the moment in which “he gave up his spirit.”
The scale is larger than life; the drama of the chiaroscuro creates stunning immediacy. There are moments in an art museum that are amazing or amusing, but only a few are such an immediate call to prayer. It is a blessing that this piece is in a smaller gallery, sort of a dead-end, that avoids a distracting flow of traffic. This gallery is a destination in itself. And the strategic placement of a bench on which to sit at a distance and contemplate is an added blessing. Here is a moment of grace; time is suspended and the viewer can rest assuredly from the rush to Easter, lingering at the foot of the cross.
My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
I will proclaim your name to my brethren;
in the midst of the assembly I will praise you:
“You who fear the LORD, praise him;
all you descendants of Jacob, give glory to him;
revere him, all you descendants of Israel!”
(Psalm 23-24)
Viewing Marc Chagall’s White Crucifixion. I would propose that for today we put aside any acrimony surrounding interpretation of this piece and absorb the poignancy of the Lord, born of the House of David, surrounded by the suffering of the European Jews of 1938. In fact, here is potent depiction of the sentiment expressed in this simple comic rhyme which has been attributed to a variety of authors, from Ogden Nash to Leo Rosten:
“How odd of God
to choose the Jew;
but odder still
are those who choose
the Jewish God
and hate the Jew.”
In my own interpretation, I find it an affecting reminder of the Lord as the Messiah. Though Chagall had his own intents, I would not necessarily jump to the conclusion that this was meant as an indictment of Christianity. It, in my opinion, boldly points to mankind’s failure throughout history, to recognize the people into whom the Savior was - and by no means by accident - born. For the Christian this contains compassion and indictment. Do not count me among those who, as one critic asserted, are “oppressors who would hear forgiving consolation instead of indictment.” The consolation and salvation of the cross does not dismiss the presence of evil yesterday or today and our – yes, my - cooperation with it. And again I may linger at the foot of the cross.
Do not rush. Take this day to contemplate the sacrifice on Golgotha.
“Stay a while in the eclipse of the light, stay a while with the conquered One. There is time enough for Easter.” [1]
[1] Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon: Meditations on the Last Words of Jesus from the Cross (New York, Basic Books, 2001) p.2.
Ellyn von Huben is a regular contributor to the Word on Fire Blog. She also moderates her own blog, Oblique House.