Sunday, April 12, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Sermon Good Friday - It is finished!
It is finished!
Our preparation for Christ’s passion has been a time for solemn stillness. We have had much time for silence in recent weeks. Now we have arrived. Christ has been crucified. The time of preparation is over. We’re there.
How have we prepared for this moment? How is our emotional state now? Time is over. Nothing can bring back the man Jesus who walked upon the earth. It is done. It is finished. Over the past weeks we have prepared - we have walked with Christ through his last days. Only yesterday we celebrated the pinnacle of the memory of Jesus’ earthly ministry. We were consoled as his disciples were consoled by Jesus before his last night. And now in this hour, the sixth hour of the day we recall the revelation of Jesus complete vulnerability. In three hours we will take part in the memorial of his death.
We have heard the gospel again, a gospel that doesn’t sound like gospel. This isn’t good news, euangellion the Greek term for the announcement of military victory. It is complete and utter defeat. Christ is dead. The end of all hope! A dreadful nightmare-end to the disciples’ dream of a dramatic change of fortune for God’s people!
But we still call it Gospel; so what hope can we take from complete and utter defeat? Luke’s gospel tells us that light failed when Jesus was crucified. The light that was created at the beginning of time on the first day is undone. The light that needed no sun or moon the light that God created is extinguished. This is the time when the first world is uncreated. It is wrenched apart. Complete brokenness. Christ’s disciples have left, the sheep have been scattered just as Jesus had foretold; the world is broken, Christ is hanging there, his body broken on a cross.
This world is despicable. A few weeks ago we heard of the foolishness of the cross. We don’t want to hear about defeat because we lay much importance on our own achievements. Much importance is given to our free will. If we only want something badly enough we will achieve it. We take it with force if we have to. Be confident. Be SELF-assured. Be strong. The time to reflect on these things is over. Are we ready now to hear the Passion of Christ? We have to be for our own good. Because with Christ’s death on the cross he gave us the power to escape the vicious cycle of aggression and retaliation which makes the world so despicable! He did not fight back – he relented. And paid the ultimate price! And so Christ becomes an example of Agape – LOVE. He is the one who sacrificed himself to show us the route out of sin.
And there we have it the big three letter word. SIN: The word most Christians will associate with this day. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us. This will be the only part left of the Eucharistic liturgy today. And it is the centre of the news of Good Friday. The Agnus Dei which started our Lenten journey, in Zuberan’s powerful depiction of the Bound Lamb, is now real. What does it take away though? It is one of the most difficult images of our faith. Sin is a word we don’t like using anymore. It has connotations of immoral behaviour of breaking an ethical code, of displeasing a judgemental God and bringing judgement on ourselves on account of the sins we have committed. The last centuries have put much of our ideas of ethics into question. There is no absolute ethical code. We have surrendered our idea of the way to live together peacefully to what suits us, to a consensus at best and to the law of the powerful at worst! But when we reflect on ourselves and the world we inhabit we realise that sin is a far more fundamental part of our existence than any ethical code. It is that within us which prevents us from becoming fully human. It is that within us which prevents us from meeting God.
The cross that now hangs here is full of news of the worlds suffering. It shows us that we decided not to take on God’s invitation to come into fellowship with him. Our sins are only the symptoms of our turning away from God. When we ask for the Lamb to take away our sin we ask for Christ to cure us from our inability to turn to God. We ask for the Lamb to make us fully human.
That which gives us the confidence to ask for Christ to take away our sin lies in the revelation of this day!
So the question of hope is the question of what the Gospel is today, in the darkness of Good Friday. Is there Gospel in complete brokenness?
Can it be source of immense hope if we share in Christ’s bleakest hour? We have been on a path of breaking down our own self. During Lent we have tried to give up things, things we usually take for granted. We have attempted to repent and turn to the Gospel. Some of us have probably been quite successful - some of us might have lapsed. The whole point of the Lenten season is to follow Christ in the breaking of his self.
In Mark’s Passion, which we heard on Palm Sunday, we are faced with very earthy scenes. The scenes of Jesus maltreatment are many and very graphic. John’s Passion seems more sanitised. Jesus is the Word made flesh and the scenes are described in this light. Jesus is always in control. In the discourse with Pilate he makes clear that Pilate has only so much power as is bestowed on him.
Either way Jesus’ ministry on earth is rendering of power. He gave! He did not come to have power bestowed on him but he rendered power. And that showed: He took time for people, he gave himself. He surrendered his will in Gethsemane and stuck to it to the very end. In his death he showed that he was truly human. He was one of us. He is one of us. He could be vulnerable and in that vulnerability he completly emptied himself of all power. Through his rendering of power he has broken not only himself but the power of sin. He is the one who by his death makes God’s creation good.
The Friday which we call “Good” is full of symbolism to help us understand. It is the sixth day of the week. On the sixth day of the week God created humankind. On the sixth day Christ dies. In the sixth hour tradition tells us Adam and Eve tasted the fruit of the forbidden tree. In the sixth hour the gospel tells us that Christ was nailed to a tree. Today is the day that creation was completed. And in that we can understand the triumphal word’s John recorded of Jesus on the cross. It is finished. And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. Through the breaking of Christ it has been revealed to us. It is finished indeed. Amen
Our preparation for Christ’s passion has been a time for solemn stillness. We have had much time for silence in recent weeks. Now we have arrived. Christ has been crucified. The time of preparation is over. We’re there.
How have we prepared for this moment? How is our emotional state now? Time is over. Nothing can bring back the man Jesus who walked upon the earth. It is done. It is finished. Over the past weeks we have prepared - we have walked with Christ through his last days. Only yesterday we celebrated the pinnacle of the memory of Jesus’ earthly ministry. We were consoled as his disciples were consoled by Jesus before his last night. And now in this hour, the sixth hour of the day we recall the revelation of Jesus complete vulnerability. In three hours we will take part in the memorial of his death.
We have heard the gospel again, a gospel that doesn’t sound like gospel. This isn’t good news, euangellion the Greek term for the announcement of military victory. It is complete and utter defeat. Christ is dead. The end of all hope! A dreadful nightmare-end to the disciples’ dream of a dramatic change of fortune for God’s people!
But we still call it Gospel; so what hope can we take from complete and utter defeat? Luke’s gospel tells us that light failed when Jesus was crucified. The light that was created at the beginning of time on the first day is undone. The light that needed no sun or moon the light that God created is extinguished. This is the time when the first world is uncreated. It is wrenched apart. Complete brokenness. Christ’s disciples have left, the sheep have been scattered just as Jesus had foretold; the world is broken, Christ is hanging there, his body broken on a cross.
This world is despicable. A few weeks ago we heard of the foolishness of the cross. We don’t want to hear about defeat because we lay much importance on our own achievements. Much importance is given to our free will. If we only want something badly enough we will achieve it. We take it with force if we have to. Be confident. Be SELF-assured. Be strong. The time to reflect on these things is over. Are we ready now to hear the Passion of Christ? We have to be for our own good. Because with Christ’s death on the cross he gave us the power to escape the vicious cycle of aggression and retaliation which makes the world so despicable! He did not fight back – he relented. And paid the ultimate price! And so Christ becomes an example of Agape – LOVE. He is the one who sacrificed himself to show us the route out of sin.
And there we have it the big three letter word. SIN: The word most Christians will associate with this day. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us. This will be the only part left of the Eucharistic liturgy today. And it is the centre of the news of Good Friday. The Agnus Dei which started our Lenten journey, in Zuberan’s powerful depiction of the Bound Lamb, is now real. What does it take away though? It is one of the most difficult images of our faith. Sin is a word we don’t like using anymore. It has connotations of immoral behaviour of breaking an ethical code, of displeasing a judgemental God and bringing judgement on ourselves on account of the sins we have committed. The last centuries have put much of our ideas of ethics into question. There is no absolute ethical code. We have surrendered our idea of the way to live together peacefully to what suits us, to a consensus at best and to the law of the powerful at worst! But when we reflect on ourselves and the world we inhabit we realise that sin is a far more fundamental part of our existence than any ethical code. It is that within us which prevents us from becoming fully human. It is that within us which prevents us from meeting God.
The cross that now hangs here is full of news of the worlds suffering. It shows us that we decided not to take on God’s invitation to come into fellowship with him. Our sins are only the symptoms of our turning away from God. When we ask for the Lamb to take away our sin we ask for Christ to cure us from our inability to turn to God. We ask for the Lamb to make us fully human.
That which gives us the confidence to ask for Christ to take away our sin lies in the revelation of this day!
So the question of hope is the question of what the Gospel is today, in the darkness of Good Friday. Is there Gospel in complete brokenness?
Can it be source of immense hope if we share in Christ’s bleakest hour? We have been on a path of breaking down our own self. During Lent we have tried to give up things, things we usually take for granted. We have attempted to repent and turn to the Gospel. Some of us have probably been quite successful - some of us might have lapsed. The whole point of the Lenten season is to follow Christ in the breaking of his self.
In Mark’s Passion, which we heard on Palm Sunday, we are faced with very earthy scenes. The scenes of Jesus maltreatment are many and very graphic. John’s Passion seems more sanitised. Jesus is the Word made flesh and the scenes are described in this light. Jesus is always in control. In the discourse with Pilate he makes clear that Pilate has only so much power as is bestowed on him.
Either way Jesus’ ministry on earth is rendering of power. He gave! He did not come to have power bestowed on him but he rendered power. And that showed: He took time for people, he gave himself. He surrendered his will in Gethsemane and stuck to it to the very end. In his death he showed that he was truly human. He was one of us. He is one of us. He could be vulnerable and in that vulnerability he completly emptied himself of all power. Through his rendering of power he has broken not only himself but the power of sin. He is the one who by his death makes God’s creation good.
The Friday which we call “Good” is full of symbolism to help us understand. It is the sixth day of the week. On the sixth day of the week God created humankind. On the sixth day Christ dies. In the sixth hour tradition tells us Adam and Eve tasted the fruit of the forbidden tree. In the sixth hour the gospel tells us that Christ was nailed to a tree. Today is the day that creation was completed. And in that we can understand the triumphal word’s John recorded of Jesus on the cross. It is finished. And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. Through the breaking of Christ it has been revealed to us. It is finished indeed. Amen
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Maundy Thursday – 9 April 2009
John 13.1-17, 31b-35
‘ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another’.
I don’t know if you are anything like me, but when I was a teenager, I used to hate my feet. I didn’t like to show them, I felt they were ugly, not in conformity with the feet of the rest of the world, and certainly not in tune with my personality.
With age and self confidence, I have moved on from those shy days, but nevertheless still do not feel that my feet are my best feature. Looking at peoples’ feet in magazine ads, one feels strangely inadequate, until you realize that there are model agencies which specialise in body parts, and whose models only work to show their feet, hands, or whatever happens to be their best feature. Unsurprisingly, therefore, our magazine images feature feet that are blemish free and as close to perfection as the current aesthetics would dictate. Enough to keep one feel inadequate!
Tonight is the night when we remember Jesus’s last supper with his disciple, a joyous gathering of friends coming together to celebrate the Jewish festival of Passover, a festival commemorating the liberation of Israel from their time of slavery in Egypt.
This festival, like most Jewish festivals, was celebrated round a table of shared food and wine, and ritual prayers were prescribed for various points of the meal. But even before the meal, there was an expectation of ritual purity which required the partakers of the meal to have washed their hands and feet before sitting for dinner. We may remember the very large jars of water of the wedding at Cana, which would have normally been used for that purpose.
Like any liturgical action, there is an expectation drawn from repetition of how things will happen. Jesus and all his disciples and followers, initially all good Jewish boys and girls, would have known the Passover ritual by heart, known all the required prayers in the right order, and what was expected at a particular point of the proceedings.
They may, on this occasion, have been slightly on edge, but they could not quite have expected what was going to happen next.
- ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another’.
A constant theme in the teachings of Jesus, yet made more explicit once more at a time when he tells his friends that he is in effect about to leave them. As he disappears from sight, the implication is that he will be present in the love that is shared between them, made more manifest in the broken bread and in the outpoured wine.
Tonight, as we remember Jesus’ last supper, we will have an opportunity to take part in the ‘washing of the feet’.
An opportunity to identify with the disciples as they were made to uncover their feet to bare them to their leader and to the world, just as they were – not the airbrushed and blemish free version that they and we would like to think we have, but the very reality of those limbs which connect us to the earth, warts and all.
An opportunity to experience a very different kind of ministry from the clergy of the parish and to feel a reversal of expected roles, just as Jesus reverses the story of the woman who came to see him and spent time bathing and massaging his feet with her tears.
An opportunity to feel both naked and powerful, yet clothed and powerless.
An opportunity to reflect on the feet that we have washed in the past and the feet that we may have to wash in the future, the feet we might wash if called upon to do so, and the barriers that may prevent us from doing so.
An opportunity to celebrate the reality of our physical bodies even in the midst of our spiritual lives.
Unlike the Victorians who couldn’t bear the mention or the sight of feet, feet and the care we take of them become for Jesus a whole metaphor for the burgeoning Christian community to grapple with as it prepares for the absence of its leader.
And tonight we also prepare for the departure of our Messiah. Even in the joy of the Passover meal, we prepare for darkness and for despair, we prepare for anxiety and depression, for emptiness and hopelessness, and so we are also invited to take this small gesture with us and reflect. What does Jesus say to us in this small act, where God incarnate is willing to do something so personal, so intimate, as to touch a part of our body which we probably don’t like very much.
And how does it connect with his second statement to ‘love one another as I have loved you’?
In the context of this City of London and of the changes of global significance that are happening all around us, what does this love that we should share look like? How would it be evidenced in our lives, recognised in the life of this Christian community here on Tower Hill? At what point is the love of God self-centred and self-serving, and at what point does it become other-centred and at the true service of others.
This church community, like many others, is constantly thinking about its mission, and the way in which it serves the community in which it is embedded. The question tonight is: whose feet on Tower Hill would we wash for the love of God, both literally and figuratively, and is that reflected in what we do here and individually in our lives.
‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.’
Tonight, as we remember Jesus the Christ washing the feet of his motley crew, let us open our souls and hearts, that as we watch the unfolding of the death of the one who inspires us, we may be truly renewed in our service of others. Am
John 13.1-17, 31b-35
‘ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another’.
I don’t know if you are anything like me, but when I was a teenager, I used to hate my feet. I didn’t like to show them, I felt they were ugly, not in conformity with the feet of the rest of the world, and certainly not in tune with my personality.
With age and self confidence, I have moved on from those shy days, but nevertheless still do not feel that my feet are my best feature. Looking at peoples’ feet in magazine ads, one feels strangely inadequate, until you realize that there are model agencies which specialise in body parts, and whose models only work to show their feet, hands, or whatever happens to be their best feature. Unsurprisingly, therefore, our magazine images feature feet that are blemish free and as close to perfection as the current aesthetics would dictate. Enough to keep one feel inadequate!
Tonight is the night when we remember Jesus’s last supper with his disciple, a joyous gathering of friends coming together to celebrate the Jewish festival of Passover, a festival commemorating the liberation of Israel from their time of slavery in Egypt.
This festival, like most Jewish festivals, was celebrated round a table of shared food and wine, and ritual prayers were prescribed for various points of the meal. But even before the meal, there was an expectation of ritual purity which required the partakers of the meal to have washed their hands and feet before sitting for dinner. We may remember the very large jars of water of the wedding at Cana, which would have normally been used for that purpose.
Like any liturgical action, there is an expectation drawn from repetition of how things will happen. Jesus and all his disciples and followers, initially all good Jewish boys and girls, would have known the Passover ritual by heart, known all the required prayers in the right order, and what was expected at a particular point of the proceedings.
They may, on this occasion, have been slightly on edge, but they could not quite have expected what was going to happen next.
Jesus knew that something was up, and that this was probably going to be the last stage before his next step, and he has still to deliver two messages to his followers:
- ‘servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them’
In order to make that point, and in a complete departure from tradition, he puts on an apron and goes about washing his friends’ feet.. You might be able to imagine their embarrassment – for them to have their feet washed by their leader: they may have squirmed at the idea, but Jesus is intent on completing his task, even with Peter, who resists most strongly.
- ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another’.
A constant theme in the teachings of Jesus, yet made more explicit once more at a time when he tells his friends that he is in effect about to leave them. As he disappears from sight, the implication is that he will be present in the love that is shared between them, made more manifest in the broken bread and in the outpoured wine.
Tonight, as we remember Jesus’ last supper, we will have an opportunity to take part in the ‘washing of the feet’.
An opportunity to identify with the disciples as they were made to uncover their feet to bare them to their leader and to the world, just as they were – not the airbrushed and blemish free version that they and we would like to think we have, but the very reality of those limbs which connect us to the earth, warts and all.
An opportunity to experience a very different kind of ministry from the clergy of the parish and to feel a reversal of expected roles, just as Jesus reverses the story of the woman who came to see him and spent time bathing and massaging his feet with her tears.
An opportunity to feel both naked and powerful, yet clothed and powerless.
An opportunity to reflect on the feet that we have washed in the past and the feet that we may have to wash in the future, the feet we might wash if called upon to do so, and the barriers that may prevent us from doing so.
An opportunity to celebrate the reality of our physical bodies even in the midst of our spiritual lives.
Unlike the Victorians who couldn’t bear the mention or the sight of feet, feet and the care we take of them become for Jesus a whole metaphor for the burgeoning Christian community to grapple with as it prepares for the absence of its leader.
And tonight we also prepare for the departure of our Messiah. Even in the joy of the Passover meal, we prepare for darkness and for despair, we prepare for anxiety and depression, for emptiness and hopelessness, and so we are also invited to take this small gesture with us and reflect. What does Jesus say to us in this small act, where God incarnate is willing to do something so personal, so intimate, as to touch a part of our body which we probably don’t like very much.
And how does it connect with his second statement to ‘love one another as I have loved you’?
In the context of this City of London and of the changes of global significance that are happening all around us, what does this love that we should share look like? How would it be evidenced in our lives, recognised in the life of this Christian community here on Tower Hill? At what point is the love of God self-centred and self-serving, and at what point does it become other-centred and at the true service of others.
This church community, like many others, is constantly thinking about its mission, and the way in which it serves the community in which it is embedded. The question tonight is: whose feet on Tower Hill would we wash for the love of God, both literally and figuratively, and is that reflected in what we do here and individually in our lives.
‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.’
Tonight, as we remember Jesus the Christ washing the feet of his motley crew, let us open our souls and hearts, that as we watch the unfolding of the death of the one who inspires us, we may be truly renewed in our service of others. Am
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Palm Sunday: acting the part
Contrary to popular opinion the church is full of drama and emotional highs and lows. Today, the first day of Holy Week, marks the beginning of the dramatic re-telling of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, his arrest and torture, his crucifixion and his death.
The church puts a heavy emphasis on remembering. Without memory there is nothing, there is an empty shell. Our memories are bad, we are easily distracted. So we re-present the events, we dramatise them so that they might have a better effect. In church we act out important event in the life of Jesus—trying, sometimes desperately, to get closer and closer to this man who was alive nearly 2000 years go.
“Do this in remembrance of me”, Jesus told his friends, his disciples. Act this out, copy me and I will, I know, be more present to you.
“Do this is remembrance of Me, he said. Don’t forget about me.
You mustn’t forget what I have done and what I have said. Time is short, I will be dead soon. Jesus used action as much as he used words.
But the drama is not confined to the Eucharist with the priest standing behind the altar, representing Jesus at the last supper. Today we play an active role in the drama that unfolds as Jesus enters Jerusalem. We started at the gardens of St Dunstan’s raising palms high and as we processed and became the crowd who, when Jesus entered Jerusalem, waved palm branches, laid down their coats, desperate to glorify the man they thought would change, their lives, improve their lives and bring peace forever. Yes, he was the one Zechariah prophecied about: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Said the prophet 500 yrs before Jesus’ time,
Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your King is coming to you;
He is just and having salvation,
Lowly and riding on a donkey,
A colt, the foal of a donkey.
We arrived in the church: the tone shifts here—there has been a scene change: we are now with the roman authorities, we are now deciding on the man’s future. The waving palms are redundant now, instead we point our fingers in accusation. Yes, he is dangerous, crucify him, crucify him. Jesus doesn’t fit our expectations. Better that his life is put to an end there, safer that way.
The drama intensifies, the mood darkens further. All our expectations are blown aside. So easy how we can be swayed by the crowd.
But here we are today, trying in our own way here at All Hallows to make an effort to remember Jesus, to represent Jesus’ story—we need to see Jesus, and this, we think, is the appropriate method for us. We act out the story- we try and become the drama.
Some of you have acted out parts- you have become a voice, an actor in the unfolding events we are trying to represent. But we have all played the mob baying for blood.
But we aren’t playing, this is not entertainment.
We will sing a chilling hymn later. Were you there when they crucified my Lord? You are invited this week to be there, to participate in the drama as we try again to do this in remembrance of him as we will this week from today until Easter Sunday.
If you find that this doesn’t come easily then come along to our stations of the cross service this afternoon. James has written an account of Jesus’ walk to Golgotha from the perspective of the man who betrayed him, Judas.
We don’t need to be a passive far off audience. If we use the tools of drama and the gifts of our imagination we can see Jesus—and piece the events back together, that is remember him, as Jesus intended.
The church puts a heavy emphasis on remembering. Without memory there is nothing, there is an empty shell. Our memories are bad, we are easily distracted. So we re-present the events, we dramatise them so that they might have a better effect. In church we act out important event in the life of Jesus—trying, sometimes desperately, to get closer and closer to this man who was alive nearly 2000 years go.
“Do this in remembrance of me”, Jesus told his friends, his disciples. Act this out, copy me and I will, I know, be more present to you.
“Do this is remembrance of Me, he said. Don’t forget about me.
You mustn’t forget what I have done and what I have said. Time is short, I will be dead soon. Jesus used action as much as he used words.
But the drama is not confined to the Eucharist with the priest standing behind the altar, representing Jesus at the last supper. Today we play an active role in the drama that unfolds as Jesus enters Jerusalem. We started at the gardens of St Dunstan’s raising palms high and as we processed and became the crowd who, when Jesus entered Jerusalem, waved palm branches, laid down their coats, desperate to glorify the man they thought would change, their lives, improve their lives and bring peace forever. Yes, he was the one Zechariah prophecied about: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Said the prophet 500 yrs before Jesus’ time,
Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your King is coming to you;
He is just and having salvation,
Lowly and riding on a donkey,
A colt, the foal of a donkey.
We arrived in the church: the tone shifts here—there has been a scene change: we are now with the roman authorities, we are now deciding on the man’s future. The waving palms are redundant now, instead we point our fingers in accusation. Yes, he is dangerous, crucify him, crucify him. Jesus doesn’t fit our expectations. Better that his life is put to an end there, safer that way.
The drama intensifies, the mood darkens further. All our expectations are blown aside. So easy how we can be swayed by the crowd.
But here we are today, trying in our own way here at All Hallows to make an effort to remember Jesus, to represent Jesus’ story—we need to see Jesus, and this, we think, is the appropriate method for us. We act out the story- we try and become the drama.
Some of you have acted out parts- you have become a voice, an actor in the unfolding events we are trying to represent. But we have all played the mob baying for blood.
But we aren’t playing, this is not entertainment.
We will sing a chilling hymn later. Were you there when they crucified my Lord? You are invited this week to be there, to participate in the drama as we try again to do this in remembrance of him as we will this week from today until Easter Sunday.
If you find that this doesn’t come easily then come along to our stations of the cross service this afternoon. James has written an account of Jesus’ walk to Golgotha from the perspective of the man who betrayed him, Judas.
We don’t need to be a passive far off audience. If we use the tools of drama and the gifts of our imagination we can see Jesus—and piece the events back together, that is remember him, as Jesus intended.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Reflection on Salvador Dali's Christ of St John of the Cross
This is probably one of the most famous paintings of the 20th Century. When it was bought by Glasgow Art Gallery in 1952 there was widespread condemnation. People cried out that it was insulting and frivolous. One critic described it as "sensationalist trickery". However, when the painting was put on display 50,000 people went to see it in the first two months.
Journalists responding to this phenomenon reported that a wide cross section of people went to see it, including "shop girls and students" ! One observer wrote "Men entering the room where the picture is hung instinctively take off their hats. Crowds of chattering, high spirited school children are hushed into awed silence when they see it."
Yes, yes, it is another representation of Jesus on the cross. So far, so predictible and familiar. But look again. The picture is shocking, and it is strange. `the viewer is not looking up as usual at the pained face of the crucified Christ. We are looking down-from above-at the body which hovers above the world. Christ is very present and yet he is distant, above the clouds. This is a cosmic image of Christ crucified. It is not a representation of a small event that affect only one city.
Although we can't see the face of Christ contorted in pain, we can see the body and it is a beautiful, well lit and strong image. Dali did this on purpose. He said "My principal preoccupation was that my Christ would be beautiful as the God that he is." There is a transcendent aspect to this picture- we are constantly reassured that God the creator is present. Maybe this contributes to the calm that pervades this image. God never abandons difficult situations.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Cross of Suffering
AHBTT/RosenthalALL HALLOWS BY THE TOWER - news clips dress the chancel cross during Passiontide to aid in the prayers of the people for the suffering in the world.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
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