More Than Conquerors

In his shorter commentary on Romans 8, Karl Barth describes a state of existence in which humanity has been ‘judged and put to death on the cross’, and yet in which the fear of death has been removed because it ‘has already taken place’ in Christ and ‘we no longer have to endure it.’ This is life under the ‘shadow’ of the cross, but that shadow is ‘the herald of the glory that awaits’ us (Barth 1959:97).

Vittore Carpaccio’s Meditation on the Passion might give us some sense of this mixture of fatal condemnation, and ultimate hope. Death is certainly prominent: the figure of the dead Christ sits slumped on a ruinous marble throne, in the dusty, bone-strewn, foreground. The crown of thorns and the sharp, lance-like shadows on the ground, are reminders of the Passion. Combining aspects of the Man of Sorrows, Christ on the Cold Stone, and Christ Enthroned, he is accompanied, not by supporting angels, a mourning Virgin, or lamenting disciples, but by Job (on the right) and St Jerome with his companion lion (on the left).

The beleaguered prophet, and the fourth-century ascetic saint—translator of the Bible, and author of a commentary on Job—provide a counterweight to what Barth called the ‘inexorable fatality’ of the shadow of the cross (1959: 97). The crumbling marble block on which Job sits is inscribed with some of his most celebrated words: ‘my Redeemer lives’ (Job 19:25–27). Job, the great sufferer, proffers the hope of the resurrection and points towards the viewers as if to indicate that Christ’s death is for them, while Jerome’s outward gaze reinforces this connection. The shadow of death is not permanent, and Job and Jerome testify to the coming glory.

References

Barth, Karl. 1959. A Shorter Commentary on Romans, trans. by D.H. van Daalen (London: SCM)

Quash, Ben. 2013. Found Theology: History, Imagination, and the Holy Spirit (London: Bloomsbury), pp. 89–121

Reddaway, Chloë R. 2019. Strangeness and Recognition: Mystery and Familiarity in Renaissance Images of Christ (Turnhout: Brepols), pp.156–158

In Romans 8:28, Paul speaks of a collaboration between God and those ‘who are called according to his purpose’, and of how they will be ‘conformed to the image’ of Christ. A calling, or vocation, to serve God and be conformed to Christ was central to the Dominican brothers for whom Fra Angelico painted this Annunciation. It is one of many frescoes which punctuate the architecture of the convent of San Marco, in Florence, where the artist himself was a friar.

These paintings intersected with the friars’ daily lives at every point. They were intended to facilitate the conformity of the individual to the community and, ultimately, to Christ. Most include a Dominican ‘exemplar’ whom the friars were encouraged to imitate: often St Dominic, who modelled himself on Christ, or the Virgin, nominal abbess of the order. Here it is St Peter Martyr, his head bleeding from the wound inflicted by the heretics who killed him, one of the ‘slaughtered sheep’ to whom Paul refers (v.36, c.f. Psalm 44:22).

The friars learned from these exemplars the proper response to the images before them, often through their physical attitudes and gestures, which were associated with particular states of prayer. Peter Martyr appears in a meditative mode of prayer suited to preparations for preaching. He is not anachronistically present at the Annunciation so much as contemplating it (just as the friar who saw it would do) and seeking to understand it in such a way that he can respond to it through his preaching and his behaviour.

The greatest example of vocation was supplied by the Virgin herself, whom we see here accepting the call to be the mother of God’s son. Her own room directly reflects the architecture of the friar’s cell and her presence serves as a constant reminder to him of her humble yet glorious vocation.

References:

Hood, W. 1986. ‘Saint Dominic's Manners of Praying: Gestures in Fra Angelico's Cell Frescoes at S. Marco’, The Art Bulletin 68.2: 195–206

Hood, W. 1993. Fra Angelico at San Marco (New Haven and London: Yale University Press)

Reddaway, Chloë. R. 2016. Transformations in Persons and Paint: Visual Theology, Historical Images, and the Modern Viewer (Turnhout: Brepols), ch.5

Jacopo Bassano’s painting of Christ on the way to Calvary shows the moment at which the legendary St Veronica offers him her veil to wipe his face, leaving his portrait imprinted on the cloth. This came to be known as ‘the Veronica’ and was considered an authentic image of Christ. Here we see, not the portrait, but Christ himself and, perhaps even more arrestingly, Veronica taking on his likeness.

On her knees in the road, her posture reflects Christ’s, and her bare head (the other women are discreetly veiled, with downcast eyes) shows her crown of plaits, echoing Christ’s crown of thorns. Her mirroring of Christ is further revealed by her clothing. The sections of her white petticoat are loosely stitched, leaving almond-shaped openings which prefigure the shape of Christ’s side wound, while the vertical stitch marks bring to mind the flagellation marks hidden beneath Christ’s robe. As Christ is led by a rope, like a ‘sheep to be slaughtered’ (Romans 8:36) Veronica is alongside him in ‘tribulation’, ‘distress’, ‘persecution’, and ‘peril’ (v.35), and her hair and garments manifest this.

In part, this is a picture about picture-making, and the legendary origins of a foundational image of the adult Christ. It is also about a particular incidence of what one might now call ‘Christian witness’ or, perhaps, since she is in a sense an image-maker, ‘artist witness’. Veronica’s offering of her veil here is as much an offering of herself in conformity to Christ. And if she is not yet bodily redeemed (v.23), she is about to be blessed with the imprint on the veil, which cannot yet be seen but will become a source of hope and consolation to many (vv.24–25).

References

Kessler, H. L., and G. Wolf (eds). 1998. The Holy Face and the Paradox of Representation, Villa Spelman Colloquia, Volume 6 (Bologna: Nuova Alfa Editoriale)

Kuryluk, E. 1991. Veronica and Her Cloth: History, Symbolism, and Structure of a "True" Image (Oxford: Basil Blackwell)

Reddaway, Chloë. R. 2019. Strangeness and Recognition: Mystery and Familiarity in Renaissance Images of Christ (Turnhout: Brepols), pp.164–173