Theodor Metochites presenting model of the church of the Chora to Christ, 1315–21, Mosaic, Kariye Camii, Istanbul, robertharding / Alamy Stock Photo
Michelangelo Buonarroti
Rondanini Pietà, 1553–64, Marble, 195 cm, Museo della Pietà Rondanini, Castello Sforzesco, Milan, Photo: Mauro Magliani, 1997
Unknown Syrian or Palestinian artist
Wooden Reliquary Box with Stones from the Holy Land, 6th century, Carved wood, engraved and partially gilded; encaustic painting on wood, 24 x 18.4 x 1 cm, Chapel of St Peter Martyr Museo Sacro, Musei Vaticani; From the Treasury of the Chapel of the Sancta Sanctorum, Lateran Palace, Rome, Cat. 61883, History and Art Collection / Alamy Stock Photo
Peter's exhortation to come to Christ, a ‘living stone’ (lithon zōnta) and build a ‘spiritual house’ (oikos pneumatikos) must be understood within the context of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the Romans in 70 CE. He reminds the faithful that, more than the physical building, it is the people themselves who constitute the true edifice, which is a spiritual one. In the aftermath of devastation and displacement, the life of the church can be rebuilt: not from the rubble that remains, but from these ‘living stones’.
After the fall of the Holy Land in the twelfth century, Christians experienced a similar displacement and exclusion from the place at the origin of their religious history. Centres of pilgrimage throughout Western Christendom sought to replicate the sacred experience of this inaccessible destination, at times recreating entire landscapes of devotion. On a smaller scale, the Palestine box enables a form of topographical travel for the devotional beholder to the Holy Land. Vivid pictures animate the imagination to ‘see’ Christ as the perpetually living sacrifice. Stone, charged with the holiness of what it has touched, acts as a conduit to bring the faithful into contact with the land which witnessed these events. By means of substitution, ordinary materials become extraordinary, alive with spiritual potency.
For many centuries, mosaics have been employed in the decoration of Christian churches, in particular, the surfaces of their lofty, domed apses: spaces that symbolized, and visualized, the eternal realm of the Heavenly Jerusalem. The specific materiality of mosaics—their uniquely reflective capacity, glowing when illuminated, as if divinely lit from within, gem-like in their rich glittering colours—made them especially suited to the depiction of the sacred.
The ongoing restoration of the Chora church provides a compelling metaphor for Peter's idea of a church made of ‘living stones’. First, it highlights the need for the faithful to continuously build their spiritual house, through sacrifice and pious deeds. But the unique method by which mosaic is restored also provides a potentially rich hermeneutical device for understanding this idea. For, with the insertion of new tesserae, even the most damaged mosaics may be renewed, restored to their original radiance and potential to reflect Christ’s glory.
The final part of 1 Peter 2:1–10 reminds its readers that the stone which founds the Church can also prove a stumbling block, to those who fail to follow God's word. Throughout Scripture (e.g. Luke 19:40; Leviticus 26:1), and in the subsequent history of Christian art, stone manifests this duality: as a medium with the potential for religious expression, but also for idolatry. The biblical injunction against the graven image became the foundation for the rejection of Christian sculpture in the Eastern Church, and later within a Reformed one.
Within this frame, Michelangelo’s choice to ‘break’ the beautiful body of Christ takes on another meaning. In his monumental image of the Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel, the artist was praised for showing the beauty and perfection of the human body in every imaginable form. But he was also castigated for this display of artistic virtuosity; condemned for placing his own art above the Christian beliefs he sought to animate. Towards the end of his career, Michelangelo's sonnets reflect upon the spiritual perils of the imagination, or fantasia—the source of artistic inspiration, but also of error and sin.
Perhaps, then, we might see in the non-triumphant RondaniniPietà not a tragic ending, but a spiritual turning: from the idolatry of the celebrated artwork carved in stone, to its animation by pious reflection. In this final meditation on the mystery of the Passion, in its inward-turning iconoclasm, an idol of art is transformed into a living icon.
1 So put away all malice and all guile and insincerity and envy and all slander. 2Like newborn babes, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up to salvation; 3for you have tasted the kindness of the Lord.
4 Come to him, to that living stone, rejected by men but in God’s sight chosen and precious; 5and like living stones be yourselves built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 6For it stands in scripture:
“Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone, a corner, stone chosen and precious,
and he who believes in him will not be put to shame.”
7To you therefore who believe, he is precious, but for those who do not believe,
“The very stone which the builders rejected
has become the head of the corner,”
8and
“A stone that will make men stumble,
a rock that will make them fall”;
for they stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.
9 But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. 10Once you were no people but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy but now you have received mercy.
Unknown artist
Theodor Metochites presenting model of the church of the Chora to Christ, 1315–21, Mosaic, Kariye Camii, Istanbul, robertharding / Alamy Stock Photo
Michelangelo Buonarroti
Rondanini Pietà, 1553–64, Marble, 195 cm, Museo della Pietà Rondanini, Castello Sforzesco, Milan, Photo: Mauro Magliani, 1997
Unknown Syrian or Palestinian artist
Wooden Reliquary Box with Stones from the Holy Land, 6th century, Carved wood, engraved and partially gilded; encaustic painting on wood, 24 x 18.4 x 1 cm, Chapel of St Peter Martyr Museo Sacro, Musei Vaticani; From the Treasury of the Chapel of the Sancta Sanctorum, Lateran Palace, Rome, Cat. 61883, History and Art Collection / Alamy Stock Photo
From Rubble to Renewal
Peter's exhortation to come to Christ, a ‘living stone’ (lithon zōnta) and build a ‘spiritual house’ (oikos pneumatikos) must be understood within the context of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the Romans in 70 CE. He reminds the faithful that, more than the physical building, it is the people themselves who constitute the true edifice, which is a spiritual one. In the aftermath of devastation and displacement, the life of the church can be rebuilt: not from the rubble that remains, but from these ‘living stones’.
After the fall of the Holy Land in the twelfth century, Christians experienced a similar displacement and exclusion from the place at the origin of their religious history. Centres of pilgrimage throughout Western Christendom sought to replicate the sacred experience of this inaccessible destination, at times recreating entire landscapes of devotion. On a smaller scale, the Palestine box enables a form of topographical travel for the devotional beholder to the Holy Land. Vivid pictures animate the imagination to ‘see’ Christ as the perpetually living sacrifice. Stone, charged with the holiness of what it has touched, acts as a conduit to bring the faithful into contact with the land which witnessed these events. By means of substitution, ordinary materials become extraordinary, alive with spiritual potency.
For many centuries, mosaics have been employed in the decoration of Christian churches, in particular, the surfaces of their lofty, domed apses: spaces that symbolized, and visualized, the eternal realm of the Heavenly Jerusalem. The specific materiality of mosaics—their uniquely reflective capacity, glowing when illuminated, as if divinely lit from within, gem-like in their rich glittering colours—made them especially suited to the depiction of the sacred.
The ongoing restoration of the Chora church provides a compelling metaphor for Peter's idea of a church made of ‘living stones’. First, it highlights the need for the faithful to continuously build their spiritual house, through sacrifice and pious deeds. But the unique method by which mosaic is restored also provides a potentially rich hermeneutical device for understanding this idea. For, with the insertion of new tesserae, even the most damaged mosaics may be renewed, restored to their original radiance and potential to reflect Christ’s glory.
The final part of 1 Peter 2:1–10 reminds its readers that the stone which founds the Church can also prove a stumbling block, to those who fail to follow God's word. Throughout Scripture (e.g. Luke 19:40; Leviticus 26:1), and in the subsequent history of Christian art, stone manifests this duality: as a medium with the potential for religious expression, but also for idolatry. The biblical injunction against the graven image became the foundation for the rejection of Christian sculpture in the Eastern Church, and later within a Reformed one.
Within this frame, Michelangelo’s choice to ‘break’ the beautiful body of Christ takes on another meaning. In his monumental image of the Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel, the artist was praised for showing the beauty and perfection of the human body in every imaginable form. But he was also castigated for this display of artistic virtuosity; condemned for placing his own art above the Christian beliefs he sought to animate. Towards the end of his career, Michelangelo's sonnets reflect upon the spiritual perils of the imagination, or fantasia—the source of artistic inspiration, but also of error and sin.
Perhaps, then, we might see in the non-triumphant Rondanini Pietà not a tragic ending, but a spiritual turning: from the idolatry of the celebrated artwork carved in stone, to its animation by pious reflection. In this final meditation on the mystery of the Passion, in its inward-turning iconoclasm, an idol of art is transformed into a living icon.
1 Peter 2:1–10
Revised Standard Version
1 So put away all malice and all guile and insincerity and envy and all slander. 2Like newborn babes, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up to salvation; 3for you have tasted the kindness of the Lord.
4 Come to him, to that living stone, rejected by men but in God’s sight chosen and precious; 5and like living stones be yourselves built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 6For it stands in scripture:
7To you therefore who believe, he is precious, but for those who do not believe,
8and
for they stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.
9 But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. 10Once you were no people but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy but now you have received mercy.
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