From Protest to Faith

In this drawing with a pencil on paper, South African–Israeli artist Dion Futerman presents a figure in prayer who stands before a wall with his head bending low. The image does not show his face, but the hunched shoulders compel viewers to recognize the posture of a person in prayer.

The wall is undoubtedly ha-kotel ha-ma‘aravi, the Western Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem. The location powerfully summons the memory of the fall of Jerusalem commemorated on the day of Tisha b’Av, when the Jewish people reflect upon the repeated disaster in history and other colossal catastrophes that took place elsewhere.

The figure’s two feet are not planted squarely and so suggest tentativeness, perhaps even precariousness. The tallit (his prayer shawl) covers a body that may be mourning. Above him, we can observe a few plants that have managed to find their path to life through the cracks of the stone.

The Hebrew title of the artwork, Ani Ma’amin (‘I Believe’), is derived from the teaching of the famous twelfth-century rabbi Moses Maimonides, who taught the Thirteen Principles of Faith. He began each line of the faith statements with ’ani ma‘amin be-emunah shelemah (‘I believe with full faith’). Principle 12 mandates persistent waiting for the coming of the Messiah, recalling the counsel of God, who said to the prophet, ‘If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay / but the righteous will live by their faith’ (Habakkuk 2:3–4).

During the Holocaust, Ani Ma’amin was sung by ‘pious and obstinate Jews in the ghettos and camps’ (Wiesel 1973: 11). Set to several tunes, the lyric continues to be performed in the commemoration of victims of those horrors. Many also recite it at the end of their morning prayer.

Perhaps, the supplicant in Futerman’s drawing is also at his morning prayer. The shadow cast over him insinuates that the sun rises behind him as he prays. The hour recalls the prophet’s counsel in verse 3b (‘If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay’).

References

Wiesel, Elie. 1973. Ani maamin: A Song Lost and Found Again; Music for the Cantata Composed by Darius Milhaud, trans. by Marion Wiesel (New York: Random House)

Quatrefoil 19 is situated under the buttress statue of Habakkuk in the west façade between the north and central porches of the High Gothic church of Amiens Cathedral. It depicts the prophet (seated) ready to receive a revelation from God, as recorded in Habakkuk 2:2. The prophet is about to write it down to make it available to those who must receive it and gain faith. They will be sustained by the prophet’s delivery of this message (2:4b).

God—depicted anthropomorphically—stands before the prophet in the quatrefoil and has a nimbus that signifies radiant divine glory. His hand is extended toward the prophet, conjuring the context of numinous communication. Seated like an ancient scribe, Habakkuk has the writing tablet on his lap, recalling a time before writing desks or tables were invented. His feet are resting on a footstool.

Christians and others of medieval and later times would have readily associated the standing divine figure with Christ. Christ is delivering his prophetic message to Habakkuk as though dictating his good news to a gospel writer. John Ruskin, the famous Victorian art critic, wrote forthrightly, ‘The prophet is writing on his tablet to Christ’s dictation’ (2008: 231).

Whereas the scene undoubtedly reproduces Habakkuk 2:2, which underscores the writing down of the vision of what God will ultimately do (2.3a), the scene captures the moment just before writing begins. We see the prophet giving full attention to the divine figure, seeking to grasp and comprehend the message before he writes it down for others. The prophet’s head is tilted, suggesting attentiveness. The relief recalls the declaration of the prophet who has just said, ‘I will keep watch to see what [the Lord] will say to me’ (2:1). At the ‘appointed time’ (2:3), God will grant the vision to the prophet who strains to hear God’s words.

References

Ruskin, John. 2008 [1881]. Our Fathers Have Told Us, Part I: The Bible of Amiens (Oxford: Benediction Classics)

Donatello produced both this sculpture and one of Jeremiah for niches on Giotto’s fourteenth-century bell tower (campanile) adjacent to Florence Cathedral. Once installed, his work became part of a larger programme of sculptural reliefs and statues on the tower, depicting sibyls, prophets, patriarchs, and other Old Testament figures. The statue is heavily weathered, and some have suspected that it was a representation of another prophet like Elisha known to be baldheaded (Rose 1981; see 2 Kings 2:23), but the majority agree is that it is Habakkuk.

The sculpture brings the prophet vividly to life, with bald head, intensely-focused eyes, wide mouth, and parted lips (Coggins & Han 2011: 44). Writing a century after its creation, Giorgio Vasari, the painter and famous artistic biographer, praised the work’s naturalism with superlatives, declaring it ‘more beautiful than anything Donatello had ever done’ (Conaway & Bondanella 1991: 151).

Donatello liked to call it lo Zuccone (meaning ‘the pumpkin-head’ or ‘gourd-head’), probably as a term of endearment. The sculptor apparently regarded it more as a companion than as a lifeless piece of marble. He used to swear by it, saying, ‘By the faith I place in my Zuccone’ (ibid: 151–52). Vasari’s biography also states that while Donatello was working on the statue, the Florentine artist would address it with a stare, ‘Speak, speak, or be damned!’ (ibid), leaving later generations to wonder whether Donatello thought he was speaking to the prophet or to the sculpture he was creating.

Given the prophet’s denunciation of idols that could not speak (Habakkuk 2:19; recalled by Vasari), it seems all the more significant that Donatello gave his statue an open mouth. This is a prophet who spoke the words of the Lord.

It is now housed in the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, while a replica stands as one of the sixteen prophet figures on the Campanile of the Cathedral, looking down on the worshippers who throng the piazza below or who pass in their thousands into the cathedral. Undoubtedly, Donatello gave a thought to the angle and the perspective from which it would have been viewed, and the proportions of the figure are adjusted for the fact that it was to be seen from below and at a distance. Even from afar, the posture of the prophet communicates his passion, as he delivers his urgent prophetic message to the people of God.

I will stand at my watch-post,
and station myself on the rampart. (2:1)

References

Coggins, Richard, and Jin H. Han. 2011. Six Minor Prophets Through the Centuries (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell)

Conaway Bondanella, Julia, and Peter Bondanella (trans.). 1991. Giorgio Vasari: The Lives of the Artists (Oxford: Oxford University Press)

Rose, Patricia. 1981. ‘Bald, Baldness, and the Double Spirit: The Identity of Donatello’s Zuccone’, The Art Bulletin 63.1: 31–41