One of the highlights -- for me anyway -- of the recent visit back home was our trip to the National Gallery. Reverend Madam just wanted to whizz through some of the Church-related stuff, but I absolutely loved the Gothic exhibition. Not out of a lack of piety, mind, but because there was so much more to see, and it was hot, and it was almost lunchtime, and The Bairn was cranky, but... I had to be dragged away from it in the end, because the ecclesiastical art collection is absolutely fantastic, well, if you are into that kind of thing anyway.
There were some really interesting juxtapositions either in the exhibition itself or within the artwork, which might be worth commenting on a bit. Thoughts of items, in no particular order:
=> 🖻 Rood beam - 20240922001821.png | 🖻 Rood beam closeup - 20240922001816.png
(To my great regret I have no data as to where this is from -- I failed to record it in person, and neither the guidebook I bought nor the website seems to list it).
High Gothic was known for its realism, and this is a very fine example.
Rood beams (rood = "cross") in church architecthure used to separate the Sanctuary from the Nave, the place of Sacrifice from the place where the Faithful gather. The place of Sacrifice -- representing the Mount of Golgotha (the Altar was classically built atop of some steps), where Christ Himself was Altar, Victim, and High Priest. Altar, as he made the perfect offering of Himself in his own body; Victim as He was the one offered; High Priest, as He was the one making the offering, out of his free will. The Nave -- the faithful gather at the feet of Mount Golgotha, like St John and the Virgin Mary did.
The Rood Beam would be usually situated above the Communion Rails. So imagine the feeling -- as you approach the Altar to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, as you "do this" in His memory, you kneel down, and then look up, and this is what you see. The Crucified One, looking at YOU. However the Rood now separates not the Faithful and Golgotha. The scene at Calvary is the door to the Resurrection: in the Sacrament, under the guise of Bread and Wine, what is received is the body of the Risen Christ. The Sanctuary becomes Heaven, and not just a symbolic representation of Calvary; where the Risen Jesus, through the person of the priest here, "gives to all the faithful His own flesh as heavenly food", as the Liturgy of St James put it. The Cross does not separate, but it links heaven and earth. The sacrifice of Calvary facilitates communion. So it is not just what you see, but where you see it. Context here matters a tremendous amount!
I purposefully stood at the feet of the rood beam for a moment, just gazing on Him, following the example of the Penitent Thief next to the Lord, who expectantly gazes on the Crucified One.
What is also interesting is not just the physical realism of the mangled bodies of the thieves, but that it is the thieves being represented next to Christ, rather than Our Lady and St John, as is customary in a Deesis. It's possibly a nod to St Thomas Aquinas' Sequence "Adoro Te Devote" where we sing:
Latin:
In Cruce latebat sola Deitas,
At hic latet simul et Humanitas,
Ambo tamen credens atque confitens,
Peto quod petivit latro pœnitens.
English (Fr Caswall's translation):
God only on the Cross lay hid from view ;
But here lies hid at once the Manhood too :
And I, in both professing my belief,
Make the same prayer as the repentant thief.
But suppose the context was slightly different -- suppose this was hanging above the Altar? What does it achieve in the Priest, where does it take him spiritually, to have to lift up his eyes to such a vivid Crucifix, as the rubrics indicate at certain points?
It brought a smile to see just how cheerful some of the early statues / artwork were! Especially the Virgin Mary statues. Here are a few. Aren't they delightful?
=> 🖻 A slightly placid St Anne, with St Mary Magdalene cheerfully telling off Death - 20240922001814.png | (more info)
=> 🖻 A smily St Paul - 20240922001819.png | (more info)
=> 🖻 A cheerful St Margaret (on the picutre's left) - 20240922001809.png | (more info)
=> 🖻 A very content Virgin Mary - 20240922001812.png
=> 🖻 Sm0l Virgin with sm0l smile - 20240922001817.png
=> From The former high altarpiece from the Church of the Virgin Mary in Liptószentmária | (more info)
This is one of the main pieces in the Early Hungarian collection. It is TALL -- measuring about 9 feet in height (275cm), a very impressive altarpiece.
The main eight panels depict scenes of the Nativity in the top row, and scenes of the Passion in the bottom row. From the pictures' right to left, they are: the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Nativity, and the Presentation in the Temple; and the arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane / the Betrayal of Jesus, Jesus brought to Pilate, Jesus carrying His Cross, and His Death.
These topics are not arbitrary. Of course these two "cycles" are the great cycles of the Christian Year -- the Nativity (Christmas) and the Passion (Easter / Holy Week) are very fitting to commemorate in what was the High Altar, the main point of focus in the church. But it was not only to present some familiar scenes to the "Christmas and Easter Only" crowd (I don't actually think that was a thing in the middle ages). There are juxtapositions and parallels in juxtapositions in parallels. The opposites form a unity, and the small rhymes with the great.
So first, take the themes: the Nativity and the Cross. The idea that the Incarnation was necessary for redemption through the death of Christ has a very long standing tradition in the Church -- you can find traces of the idea in St Irenaeus, but most would go to St Anselm's "Cur Deus Homo" , to Book II, Chapter 6, discussing how "No being except the God—man can make the atonement by which man is saved." So the top row has scenes of the Incarnation, while the bottom row has scenes of the Passion: the ark of God's work of Redemption.
What is missing from the altarpiece, of course, is the Crucifix that would have occoupied the middle; alongside a Tabernacle (possibly). The Cross (the place where redemption was wrought) and the Sacrament (the means through which that work of redemption is accomplished in us today) would give meaning to all the panels: again, context matters.
But then you have interesting theological parallels between the individual panels themselves. First, of course, the first panel, the Annunciation, rhymes with the last one, the Crucifixion: that "They shall call him Jesus for he will save the people from their sins" is made very evident in the last panel; as well as the prophecy to Mary that "a sword will pierce your own heart too". That they call Him Jesus was made very obvious in the Latin, Hebrew and Greek inscription on the Lord's cross (INRI: Iesus Nazarenus, Rex Iudaeorum -- Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews).
The panels also create interesting parallels with the ones below them. Starting again with the Annunciation, it offers an interesting counterpoint to the Arrest of Christ. In the first, the Angel reveals the person of Christ to Mary in private; in the latter the kiss of Judas reveals the person of Christ to the Chief Priests in public. The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth, at which St John the Baptist leaps for joy in the womb of Elizabeth at the presence of the Eternal Truth coming to him, is again put in contrast with the "visitation" of Christ to Pilate, who cynically, or perhaps in mere despair, asks, "Veritas? Quod est veritas?" -- "Truth? What is truth?" St John rejoices at it. Pilate is consumed by existential nihilism.
The Nativity and the Way of the Cross are perhaps less obvious, but I am fairly certain that I can recall some ancient Patristic homilies where the wood of the manger is brought into parallel with the wood of the Cross. The lowing cattle surrounding the Lord is the opposite of the baying crowd: while Creation rejoices at the coming of the Creator in obedience; the mob rebels against the Author of Life with hatred. Another mediaeval hymn comes to mind, Venantius Fortunatus' "Pange Lingua", specifically the fifth verse. It is sung in Passiontide.
Latin:
Vagit infans inter arcta
conditus praesepia:
membra pannis involuta
Virgo Mater alligat:
et manus pedesque et crura
stricta cingit fascia.
English (John Mason Neale):
Weeps the Infant in the manger
That in Bethlehem's stable stands;
And His Limbs the Virgin Mother
Doth compose in swaddling bands,
Meetly thus in linen folding
Of her God the feet and hands.
The final two lines of the Latin original are more poignant; a more literal translation would be "and hands and feet and legs are tightly girded by cords / bands". Notice the bound Jesus ("El Cautivo" for those in Malaga) in the bottom row. But I am also reminded of the prickly straw, and the crown of thorns that the Saviour bore.
And finally, in the Presentation in the Temple there is a foreshadowing of Christ's death; where He presents Himself as the Offering in the Holy of Holies; when He is the high priest, and not Zachariah. The Collect for Candlemas (the Feast of the Presentation) is apt:
Latin:
OmnÃpotens sempitérne Deus, maiestátem tuam súpplices exorámus: ut, sicut unigénitus FÃlius tuus hodiérna die cum nostræ carnis substántia in templo est præsentátus; ita nos fácias purificátis tibi méntibus præsentári. Per...
English:
Almighty and everliving God, we humbly beseech thy Majesty, that as thy Only-begotten Son was this day presented in the temple in substance of our flesh, so we may be presented unto thee with pure and clean hearts. Through...
... of dwelling way too long on the mediaeval exhibit. There was also a fascinating exhibition of pictorial memories of the Holocaust -- the artworks of survivors; some drawn in the camps and ghettos, some only years later. It was harrowing.
It was also good to see some of the artwork in person that used to be in all our history books -- e.g. the Baptism of St Stephen, or some of Szinyey-Merse's paintings.
=> But I will just leave this clever 20th century artwork here to wrap it up. This content has been proxied by September (3851b).Proxy Information
text/gemini; charset=utf-8; lang=en-GB