Kurt Reuber
The Stalingrad Madonna, 1942, Charcoal on paper, 900 x 1200 mm, Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche, Berlin; Azoor Photo / Alamy Stock Photo
Compassion in the Cauldron
Commentary by Ben Quash
[A] bishop [episkopos], as God’s steward, must be blameless;…hospitable, a lover of goodness, master of himself, upright, holy, and self-controlled (Titus 1:7)
The battle of Stalingrad (now Volgograd) was one of the most traumatic crucibles of conflict in the Second World War. Close to 2 million people died. Although it is one of the identifiable points at which the tide of the war turned, the human cost to those caught up in it, on all sides, resists any meaningful calculation.
The maker of this work (now known as the Stalingrad Madonna) was Dr Kurt Reuber. He combined three vocations: those of a trained artist, a Lutheran pastor, and a physician. His pre-war, anti-Nazi views did not prevent his being drafted into the Wehrmacht as a military doctor, and he found himself in a bunker in Stalingrad at Christmas in 1942, enduring the city’s long and devastating winter siege.
‘Amend what [is] defective’, instructs the Letter to Titus, in a summons to reparative living (1:5). The fourth-century bishop John Chrysostom would later acknowledge just how radical the demands of this duty to repair might turn out to be on those whose calling was to teach Christianity (he describes them as ‘physicians of souls’):
But the physician does not strike, but heals and restores him that has stricken him. (Titus 2.7)
Reuber regularly treated the Russian population in Stalingrad as well as his own men, gaining a reputation among the former for his sympathy and compassion, restoring even those who—as, technically, ‘the enemy’—might at any point ‘strike him’.
Four terrible words—along with the date—acknowledge the violence and horror out of which his Madonna and Child emerged: ‘IM KESSEL’, and ‘FESTUNG [fortress] STALINGRAD’:
‘Kessel’ means ‘kettle’ in German as in the modern verb ‘to kettle: to encircle a group of people’. [I]ts older meaning is ‘cauldron’. (Davies 2023: 20)
Yet four other words push back. At top right we read ‘LICHT’ (light), and down the right-hand side, ‘LEBEN’, ‘LIEBE’ (life, love). At left: ‘WEIHNACHTEN’ (‘Christmas’).
Like the Letter to Titus, Reuber—in his pastoring, his medicine, and his art—was seeking wellsprings of repair that were deeper than the ‘unprofitable and futile’ destructiveness (3:9) that surrounded him. Faced with a human violence and sin rarely surpassed in history, he brought something to birth in this artwork that he believed the cauldron would not consume.
References
Davies, Hilary. 2023. ‘Sacramental Landscapes: Coventry Sixty Years On’, The British Art Journal, 24: 15–20
Schaff, Philip (ed.). 1995. Chrysostom: Homilies on Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, Thessalonians, Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Series 1, vol. 13 (Peabody: Hendrickson)