“the crucifixion and the resurrection go together, they cannot be separated,”
From the Rheinau Psalter, circa A.D. 1260
Just a few days earlier it appeared that all was lost. Jesus, whom the twelve had followed for the last three years, is arrested, condemned, and put to death in the most humiliating way possibly. There was nothing brave or noble or admirable in the manner of His execution. His body is entombed and guards are placed outside for fear that His followers may attempt to steal the corpse.
But the weary guards fall asleep and are awakened by the opening of the tomb and the appearance of Christ. He rises from the dead, his hands, feet and side, still bear the marks of the nails and the soldier’s lance. He holds a cross shaped banner which reminds us that even though He has risen, he was indeed put to death on the cross. If there is any doubt as to His identity the halo confirms His sanctity and the three arms within the halo identify Him as Jesus, the Christ.
The elaborate border allows us a mental space to forget, for a moment, our daily cares for we are entering the realm of the sacred.
This is a composition we see repeated throughout the centuries. Rather than emerging from a tomb that resembles a cave, here, Jesus steps out of a sarcophagus, the lid cast to the side and falling on the guards. The “Resurrection Banner” became a common feature as depictions of the resurrection developed over the centuries. It may appear as a white banner with a red cross emblazoned on it or, as it is here, a cross shaped staff from which floats a red banner. Generally it represent victory over death but as we contemplate this example of sacred art it provides us with a deeper meaning.
The death and resurrection of Christ sets a pattern for Christian life. The suffering and sorrow in our lives leads to the glory of a resurrection. Stories of this type could fill a book. A man loses his job, his livelihood, his home and even his family. When he is at his lowest point, perhaps feeling he no longer has a reason to live, then he is offered an opportunity that turns his life around.
Another man has sent his child to an expensive university. But business is bad and he is faced with having to tell the child that the family cannot afford to send them back to school for the next semester. Before he can pick up the phone, it rings and a voice on the other end tells him that his business has finally turned a profit, enough to allow the child to continue their education.
This is the victory of the Resurrection. When all seems lost, when we are on the verge of losing hope, then we discover that the tomb is empty, the stone is overturned, and the shadow of the cross is a memory, outshined by the bright light of a new world.
The cross-banner reminds us that the crucifixion and the resurrection go together, they cannot be separated, one follows the other, failures become victories, Good Fridays become Easter Sundays.
As we struggle to follow Christ we enter into our own Calvary. We must die to ourselves, our selfishness, our ego, our drive for material goods over spiritual goods, all so that we may be reborn in Christ. And when we have been reborn, it is then our job to return and help others along the same path. This is the core of the so-called Hero’s Journey, this is the patten of Christian life.
Here is my revisit of the Rheinau image.
I departed from the original in a few instances. I turned the head of Christ so that He is looking more directly at the viewer, inviting us to contemplate the deeper Truth behind the Resurrection. The guards represented a unique challenge as in the original they were drawn to fit the space and proper proportions and anatomical correctness were sacrificed. There is graphic quality to this type of Gothic form. The symbolism and arrangement of the elements is meant to provide us a pathway to Heaven. The goal is an overall aesthetic quality that is pleasing and inviting, but is not necessarily aimed at correctness in bodily proportions. That is why so many gothic characters have twisted and broken necks as they are drawn to contemplate divine or holy things. It is clear from the other illustrations within the psalter that the artist has a good knowledge of anatomy and proportion, but here has chosen to subordinate that in order to arrive at a more pleasing overall composition.
Many, perhaps most, viewers would not even notice but to me it is a distraction, something that takes me out of that contemplative mode. Where others may see a beautiful image I can only focus on the impossibly long feet, and the squashed torso of the reclining soldier. Perhaps that is the curse as well of the blessing that comes with artistic gifts.
Nevertheless, my particular gifts rebel at the idea of depicting bodies with no necks and torsos so short that arms would hang down to the knees. There is a time and a place for such exaggeration but this is not that time or that place. And so I have redrawn the soldiers accordingly.
Et Omnibus Deo Gloria