Homily by Fr James Heard on Tuesday 22nd March 2016 at St Georges Church, The Passion through Art
Homily by Fr James Heard on Tuesday 22nd March 2016 at St Georges Church, The Passion through Art
This holy week we are reflecting on the passion through a
variety of means - most beautifully last night, through music. Tomorrow we will
be exploring the passion through the poetry of RS Thomas. But tonight I would
like to reflect upon just one painting: Christ Crowned with Thorns,
Hieronymus Bosch.
Bosch was a prolific Dutch painter of the 15th and 16th
centuries. Many of his works depict sin and human moral failings. Bosch like to
used images of demons, half-human animals and machines to evoke fear and
confusion and to portray the evil of man.
Christ Crowned with Thorns was
painted toward the end of his life. It saw a shift in style which included paintings
with a small number of large figures who appear to almost leave the painting
and stand close to the observer. This painting is an example of this and you
can find it at our National Gallery.
The episode this
painting depicts is between the trial of Christ and his crucifixion. In what he
probably sees as political expediency, Pilate has Jesus handed over to be
crucified. The cruel and hardened Roman soldiers take him, clothe him with
purple, put a crown of thorns on his head and then begin to mock him, hitting
him and spitting at him, mockingly shouting, ‘Hail, King of the Jews’.
Just as John’s gospel
has the stark, binary theme of theme of light and darkness, Bosch’s painting is
also intensely stark. The ugliness, anger and violence of the four
characters surrounding Christ contrasts with Christ himself. Research done on
this painting, which shows preparation under the painting, has revealed that
Bosch has actually toned down the violence going on for a slightly more subtle
interpretation of the event.
In the gospel narrative we have Christ clothed in purple,
but the theological point Bosch is making in this painting is Christ as the
gentle victim wearing the white garment of innocence. The thorny crown is just
about to be forced down upon his pale and delicate skin… and it sort of
resembles a halo. Christ’s humble and serene expression, almost lost in his own
thoughts, contrasts with the ugliness and violence of the tormentors. This is
clearly the contrast between good and evil that Bosch is attempting to portray.
What do we know about
the mockers? They are wearing contemporary c.16 costume. Bosch is obviously
making a comment about the corruption of the society of his time. Only two of
the characters are soldiers. The one on the right wears a spiked dog collar,
which recalls Psalm 22 (v.16) about dogs surrounding God’s chosen one. On his
hat he has a cluster of oak leaves and an acorn, perhaps an allusion to the
secular authorities of his day.
The soldier on the
left looks more menacing. His turban has a crossbow bold through it, and his armoured hands and arm hold the crown of thorns. Perhaps this
soldier also reflects the secular power of his day. He’s about to place the
crown upon Christ’s head, a right to determine the next ruler in a mock
coronation. It depicts the government of his day being as good as complicit in
Christ’s torture, and he refuses to allow us to look away.
The other two
characters seem to be paying false mocking homage as they kneel before Christ.
The one on the left has a red headgear on which is a crescent and star,
identifying him as an unbeliever. The other man is dressed like a merchant.
The painting was, and
is, a challenge to its viewers. We are challenged to answer the question posed
by Christ to his disciples: ‘Who do you say that I am?’. As we think about the
cosmic significance of Christ’s death, what are its implications for what it is
for us today to be human? We ponder the injustice of Christ’s fate and the
cruelty which humanity is capable.
We are challenged to
see violence and ugliness not just ‘out there’, where we see it on the news
every day, but to see it within ourselves.
Whilst much violence
continues in our world today, it’s unlikely that we here today in this part of
London participate in this sort of physical violence… but I wonder whether
there are other, more subtle faces of violence, of which we might be guilty:
emotional violence at work or at home, often with those whom we are closest to;
the violence of ignoring someone; an abusive use of power; verbal aggression,
and so on. We must not allow ourselves to see violence as being ‘out there’ so
as to avoid confronting our violence within.
In contrast to the
world, and ourselves, who so often respond to violence with violence, the power
of Jesus’s passion is that he absorbs it. And by so doing, he transforms it and
transcends it. That’s the powerful, redeeming message of the Gospel. And
whenever it happens things change.
There is an account
in The Catholic Worker newspaper during the time of the civil rights
protest in United States. It was a time when blacks and whites would sit at
segregated lunch counters, refusing to move until they were served while angry
whites poured ketchup on their heads, smeared mustard through their hair,
pelted them with slurs, and mocked them. It quotes a black man: ‘I will let
them kick me and kick me until they have kicked all the hatred out of
themselves and into my body, where I will transform it into love.’
That's how Jesus
loves us. He accepts all the violence, the anger and hatred of sin, he absorbs
it into himself, and then he pours out his love, even on us who are the
sinners. May we be ready to give up violence, hatred, vengeance, retaliation,
and all of those things that seem so natural. We’ll absorb hatred and
violence and respond with love. It will be a miracle, but it’s a miracle
that God can make happen.