I've been trying to think of an image that speaks to me of the radical and ultimate self-emptying of Jesus that sits at the heart of this week's spiritual focus. It is too easy for us to slide into 'interesting' narrative, 'logical' atonement theories or simple sentimentality when we are faced with the enormity of the events of Holy Week. The challenge is to enter into the awful silence of it all, the complete self-giving and utter poverty of Jesus without dressing it up.
Most traditional paintings or images of the events of Holy Week fall into one of the traps I've suggested. And even if there are very compelling examples of depictions of the extremity of Jesus' suffering, like Grunewald's Isenheim altarpiece, they still don't quite enter into the void. It may not be possible for art to do that very successfully since it relies precisely on the presentation of form, not nothingness, but I think there are some ways to get closer to that inexpressible emptying. One way is to go in the opposite direction from the intensity of Grunewald and look to an image that is more stylised. The very well-known San Damiano crucifix, before which St Francis heard his call, is a good example of earlier iconography that emphasises still simplicity over intense agony:
Other examples of this more stylised image might come from Easter iconography or from modern art. I am always particularly moved by the many depictions of the crucifixion by Craigie Aitchison. Here are a couple of examples.
It is the sense of emptiness and space in these paintings that comes closest to hinting at the kind of void I was looking for and the image of Jesus is shown with little overt emotion and little narrative context. In truth, of course, we probably need as many kinds of depiction of this indescribable moment as possible so that we can see just how partial every view is, and I would never want to lose the density of a painting like van der Weyden's deposition which places the crucified Jesus right at the heart of suffering humanity. But what Craigie Aitchison offers us is a hint at that loving Void that fills all things, that complete self-offering and radical nothingness that stands not exactly as judgement, not as assumed punishment, not as 'statement' but as simple, naked love; a space so generous that we find ourselves lost in it, that we see clearly for the first time, that our wounds are healed in the peace and stillness that transcend all attempts to eradicate them.
There are no words to describe this wonder. There are no images. But we must use all the words we can and all the images we can until they run out. And then...
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