1°. The condemnation.— A reason was necessary which would come within the scope of Roman law. In Jerusalem Pilate alone possessed the “jus gladii ” the power of life and death, which was bitterly grudged him by the Jews. The members of the Sanhedrin obviously could not produce the reasons for their hatred before a Roman official. And that is why they started by accusing Jesus of encouraging the people to revolt. But a brief inquiry and Herod’s indifference soon brought this major accusation to nothing in Pilate’s mind. He repeated three times: “I find no cause in this man” (Lk. XXIII). The Jews then alleged that He had made Himself the Son of God, and that this, according to their law, entailed the supreme penalty. But this failed to move the Procurator, and on the contrary had a vaguely disturbing effect on his superstitious soul; in the eyes of a pagan, the son of a god is a hero. It is clear that Pilate was doing all he could to release this man whose innocence was obvious and who called forth his respect. It was only after all these windings and gropings that the Jews were at last able to discover a reason which would compel Pilate to condemn Him: “He has made Himself a King….If you release this man you are not Cӕsar’s friend” (Jn . XIX, 12). There was a satanic astuteness in this, for it contained a count of indictment, that of “rebellion against Caesar,” and it stirred up all the selfish anxiety of this poor colonial official, lest he should displease the central government, and even become involved in some subversive attempt against the emperor. From then onwards all the desire he had to be benevolent, all his concern for justice, which were surprising enough in a Roman brute (and which have won for him a certain indulgence, well expressed by St. Augustine), all this vanished before a serious count of indictment, which could gravely compromise any judge who refused to admit it. And from then onwards the condemnation was a foregone conclusion, and the application of the law meant death by crucifixion: rebellion against Cæsar.
He would have his revenge on the Jews by writing on the titulus: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, and by maintaining it in spite of their objections (O gegrapha, gegrapha —What I have written, I have written). This was the only expression of his resentment and ill humour.
2°. The scourging.— The question is whether this scourging was that which legally preceded an execution, or whether it was a punishment on its own. Matthew and Mark offer no solution to this problem, for they merely write: “Having scourged Jesus (he) delivered Him unto them to be crucified.” This is a simple account of the succession of events, and this was what took place following every condemnation to death.
In St. Luke’s Gospel Pilate already twice repeats to the Jews: “I will chastise Him therefore, and release Him.” This reveals to us his intention to inflict the scourging as a special punishment, but does not yet tell us that he has done so. But St. John, who is often more explicit, when he considers he should complete, without contradicting, the Synoptics, in his quality of an eyewitness describes in detail what took place. Pilate had declared to the Jews that Jesus, whom he had questioned, was innocent; he offered to deliver Him because of the pasch, but the Jews called for Barabbas. “Then therefore Pilate took Jesus, and scourged Him.” (Jn . XIX, 1). We have the scourging, the crowning with thorns, the Ecce Homo, the accusation that He had made Himself the Son of God. Pilate, in his anxiety, returned to question Jesus on this subject. When he went out once for a final attempt, the supreme accusation burst forth: He has made Himself a king; you are not the friend of Cæsar. And then came the condemnation.
We then see that the scourging had preceded the sentence of death and even the most important part of the “actio ” of the trial; an unworthy trial, more like a riot than a judicial proceeding. Alas! The result was no different.
3°. The crowning with thorns.— We have said that it was the custom to submit the condemned to every kind of mockery and ill-treatment which depended merely on the imagination of the executioners. In the case of Jesus, the excuse was ready to hand: He was accused of having made Himself the King of the Jews, and this count of indictment would entail His condemnation to death. We may be sure that this royal Jewish title would have seemed to these legionaries of the empire to be a great piece of buffoonery, which they would at once have the idea of turning into a cruel masquerade. Hence the crowning with thorns, using an old chlamys as the purple mantle and a reed serving as a sceptre.
Philo gives us another example of this deep contempt of the Romans for Jewish royalty (In Flaccum ): A few years after the death of Jesus, when the Jewish king Agrippa was passing through Alexandria, the populace got hold of a poor idiot, crowned him with the bottom of a basket as a diadem, wrapped him up in a mat, placed a reed in his hand, and supplied him with a mock bodyguard, surrounding him with derisive honours. The whole of this improvised masquerade was intended as an insult to Agrippa’s Jewish royalty.
We shall return to the details of the crowning of Jesus when we come to study the wounds which resulted from it.
4°. The carrying of the cross .—We must first of all admit, in company with Father Lagrange and Father Huby, that Jesus, having been condemned by a Roman to the death of the cross, “more romano, ” according to the Roman custom would only have carried the patibulum and not the whole cross as depicted by most artists. We have seen that the expression “to carry one’s cross,” which one only finds in Greek texts, or those which have been translated from Greek into Latin, is the exact synonym of the Roman “to carry one’s patibulum .”
Was this patibulum fixed with cords on the two outstretched arms, as was the custom in Rome? Or did He carry it balanced on one shoulder? As the Gospels do not tell us explicitly, it is at first sight difficult to give a definite answer to this.
St. John’s expression, however: “bastazôn autô ton stauron—bajulans sibi crucem —carrying His own cross” (Mgr. Knox’s translation), would seem to suggest the active gesture of taking up His cross personally.
The episode with Simon of Cyrene would also point to the cross being carried balanced on the shoulder, without cords. According to the four Evangelists, Jesus, anyway when leaving the prӕtorium, was carrying His own cross (John does not mention Simon). Then the soldiers, seeing that in this way He would not reach Calvary, according to the Synoptics compelled the Cyrenean to carry the beam. This would seem to indicate, though without certainty, that it was resting on His shoulder, unbound by cords; as for Simon, there was no valid reason for binding a free man who had merely been called in. Luke alone adds that he was carrying it behind (opisthen ) Jesus. This would mean that Jesus was walking in front, led by the soldiers; Simon followed Him, carrying the patibulum. We have thus travelled far from the most usual iconography, with Jesus carrying an immense cross, and Simon holding up the post behind Him. This is purely artistic imagination; it is not without beauty and mystical content.
We shall see that the marks of the wounds to be seen on the shroud and the stains on the coat of Argenteuil can only be explained by the scraping of the beam against the back which it was galling (unless we admit the carrying of the whole cross, which would certainly be inexact), at the time of the falls, when Jesus sank beneath it.
Finally, the Gospels bear witness that Jesus was not subjected to the Roman custom, according to which the condemned walked to execution completely naked. “They took off the cloak from Him, and put on Him His own garments, and led Him away to crucify Him” (Mt. XXVII, 31). This could be easily explained by the habit preserved by the Romans of respecting native customs. We find in Josephus (C. Appionem ): “Romani subjectos non cogunt patria jura transcendere —The Romans do not force their subjects to break the laws of their country.”
We would add that the binding of the arms to the patibulum was done specially with the aim of preventing any violent reaction by the condemned man. The soldiers must have become aware that Jesus was perfectly inoffensive. Their only problem was to make sure He reached Calvary alive.
5°. The cross. (1 ) The height of the crow.—Father Holzmeister thinks that a high cross (sublimis ) was used. I would here venture to disagree with him. His one argument does not seem to be entirely convincing. He thinks, in fact, it would have had to be very high for it to have been necessary to fix the “sponge filled with vinegar” (the vinegary posca , which was the normal drink of the Roman soldier) at the end of a reed, in order to reach the lips of the Crucified.
Let us start by eliminating the word hyssop, which, even in Palestine, is a frail little tree, and let us, along with Father Lagrange, read not “hussopô ” but “hussô ,” which means a short javelin (Matthew and Mark speak of a reed, “kalamos, ” but the short javelin had much that appearance). This “hussos, ” the Roman “pilum” was three feet long, about 90 centimetres, including the metal part which was about a foot long. When held at arm’s length this would hold the sponge to a height of about 2.50 metres.
I think then that the crux humilis was used. There was no reason for setting up a special stipes of a higher kind, merely so as to mock the “King of the Jews.” They had not the time for this, and the usual stakes were always ready at Golgotha, where most of the executions were carried out. Besides Jesus, who had been condemned unexpectedly, they had to receive on that day two brigands who had been condemned in the regular course of justice. These executions were thus quite normal and according to the regulations.
I should imagine that the stakes were about 6 feet 8 inches high, which would allow the patibulum to be fixed quite easily. The feet could without difficulty be nailed on to the stipes (with the flexion of the thighs and the legs, which we shall calculate exactly), at about 1 foot 8 inches from the ground. The mouth would thus be scarcely any lower than the patibulum, after the sinking of the body, and would thus be at a height of about 6½ feet. It would thus be more convenient to hold up the sponge on a pilum , to get it to that height, rather than to make the effort of holding it up in the hand.
Another fact should be taken into consideration, which is not mentioned by Father Holzmeister, the blow with the lance. It is certain, anatomically speaking, that the blow was given obliquely, but not far from the horizontal. According to my hypothesis of 6 feet 8 inches, the wound was about 5 feet from the ground. A foot-soldier would thus find it easy to give this blow, simply by lifting his arm. This would be impossible, if the cross were higher. Now, it is certain that the soldiers were legionaries, and therefore foot-soldiers. They were commanded by a centurion, who would have been an infantry officer, and would also not have been mounted. Only a horseman would have been able to give the blow with the lance had the crucifixion been at a higher level. It is clear that this will dismount many of the fine cavalcades which some of our painters have portrayed so impressively, but it seems to me to be far more in conformity with historical truth.
I venture to recall the text from Eusebius, which was quoted by Father Holzmeister himself, at the beginning of his work—St. Blandina “was exposed (on the cross) to be the food of wild beasts.” The ordinary low cross must then have been used, that of the arenas: “And being hung on the cross, she bore a likeness to Him who for their sakes (the martyrs) had Himself been crucified.” Did this likeness extend to the dimensions of the cross? I do not wish to read too much into the text, but it would seem to suggest it.
Finally, attempts have been made in favour of a high cross, to make capital of the verb “hupsousthei—elevari —to be lifted up,” which we find Jesus applying to Himself three times in St. John’s Gospel, alluding to the crucifixion. The third time, for instance, He says: “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all things to myself” {8} (Jn. XII, 32). It is quite obvious that a cross of the dimensions we have in view would fully comply with the meaning of this verb.
(2) The form of the cross.— Was the cross of Jesus in the form of a T or a †? Father Holzmeister could seem to hold that the Fathers of the Church opted for a †, but he only deduces this opinion from certain comparisons which they make with the cross; for instance Jacob blessing Ephraim and Manasses with outstretched arms. One text only is a little more precise, that of St. Irenaeus, who counts five extremities (cornua ) on the cross, including the sedile. All things considered, we find no definite affirmation of this in patrology. On the other side, Dom Leclerc quotes three texts from Pseudo-Barnabas, Origen and Tertullian, which undoubtedly have the T form in mind. Tertullian recalls the passage in Ezechiel, in which the Lord orders the latter to mark the foreheads of the men of Jerusalem with a Tau (the name of the Greek T), adding that it was a forecast of the sign of the cross, which Christians trace on their foreheads.
“The Gospels,” writes Father Holzmeister, “give no indication as to the form of the cross. The titulus which was, as St. Matthew says, ‘epanô tès kephalès autou —above His head,’ does not prove that the stipes was higher than the patibulum
In fact, this raises no difficulty. The titulus was fixed to the patibulum of the T by a piece of wood and by four nails, as I have been able to demonstrate on a number of crucifixes; it could even have encroached a little on to the front of the patibulum and have been nailed directly to it. Both these methods are to be found in the work of several painters, especially Roger van der Weyden.
It may well be that the projection of the titulus above the patibulum was the source from which the form of the Greek and Latin crosses was derived. (These two adjectives have no geographical significance in this context.) The true classical Greek cross has, above the patibulum and crossing the middle of the stipes, a second oblique bar, which represents the titulus. The upper horn of St. Irenaeus would then be the titulus.
It must also be remembered that when the first crucifixes appeared (and they were still very rare), at the end of the Vth century (one of ivory in the British Museum), VIth century (the door of St. Sabina, the Gospel Book of Rabula), almost two centuries had passed by since crucifixion was abolished by Constantine (315 A.D., or at the latest 330), and none of the artists had ever seen a crucified being. St. Augustine, at the dawn of the Vth century, declares that nobody had been crucified at Rome for a long time. The form, then, was chosen by artists for æsthetic reasons, unconnected with reality; it was easier to place the titulus where it would be clearly seen, above the head of Jesus. The two forms will always be portrayed in every age, according to the choice of the artist.
From the VIth to XIIth century the productions of the East were the most important. These include many small objects, such as ampullæ (Bobbio, Monza), and censors, and are often marked with a †. This is also to be found in frescoes, as in Santa Maria Antiqua, or in the Forum (VIIIth century). However, the great compositions which are found on a wide scale from the XIth century onwards, often have in them a T. We find this in the church of St. Luke in Phocis, at Daphni, at Aquilea, and at Santa Maria in Vescovio. I place the Byzantine crucifixes in a separate group, occupying as they do a small space in the middle of a large cruciform frame, of which the extremities and the sides broaden out into a number of small subordinate pictures; such is the crucifix in the church of San Damiano at Assisi.
When the art of painting was revived in Italy in the XIIth and XIIIth centuries, the primitives usually have a †, as for instance, in the work of Duccio and Cimabue. But in the XIVth and XVth centuries, the T begins to appear again in the work of Pietro Lorenzetti, in the lower church at Assisi; Giotto, in the Arena at Padua; Fra Angelico, in San Marco in Florence. All three fix the titulus on a narrow stem of wood on the patibulum.
In France, the Gothic sculptors are more inclined to use the †. But the T is definitely dominant in the XVth century in all schools of painting, whether they belong to Provence, Burgundy, Paris or the North; Bréa, Bellechose, and Fouquet generally employ it. In the Walloon country the great Roger van der Weyden never paints anything else. Albrecht Dürer also prefers the T. The same is true of Hieronymus Bosch in Holland and Memling in Flanders. In the XVIth century a few artists remain faithful to the T, such as Quentin Metsys. But, in the XVIIth , the Latin cross holds the field in every country; it is usually very high, amid stately and high-flown productions, which become further and further removed from piety and from the truth. One still finds an occasional T, however, in the work of Lebrun (at the Louvre) and in Rembrandt. Our modern artists are readily returning to it. But we must once more study the origins.
It would be most interesting to know how the Christians of the first centuries depicted the cross. This was unfortunately such an object of horror and infamy in the whole Roman world, that nobody dared to shew it, even for the eyes of the faithful. The apostolic catechesis was above all things a triumphant preaching of the Resurrection. The first crucifixes (Vth and VIth centuries) will be triumphal images of the living Christ, placed in front of the cross. It was not till the Middle Ages that the imagery and the cultus of the Passion developed, the mystical idea of the Divine Compassion.
One does, however, find very rare representations of the crucifix engraved on gems of the first centuries. In one of these Jesus is holding His arms in the form of a cross, but the latter is invisible. On two others the cross seems to be a T. On a cornelian in the British Museum, the Christ is standing, with His arms outstretched; there is a transverse bar behind Him, above His shoulders and His hands. He has the appearance of a condemned man carrying his patibulum in the Roman style, rather than one who has already been crucified. Finally, there is the famous graffito of the Palatine, a coarse satirical design, which represents a Christian adoring a crucified being with the head of an ass (this was a common calumny among the pagans), and shews a cross in the form of a T, drawn with clear lines.
The cross is extremely rare in the catacombs. About twenty have been mentioned and recent excavations have scarcely added to that number. They are plain crosses, skilfully expressed with lines similar to those in the letters of the neighbouring inscriptions. Almost always, and constantly in the first two centuries, the cross is symbolised by images which would be less easy for those who were not initiated to understand.
Chief among these, perhaps, is the anchor, the symbol of hope; for Jesus is our greatest hope. This anchor is frequently fastened to or covered by a fish. As everyone knows, the Greek word for the latter is “ichthus, ” the letters of which are the initials of the Greek words meaning “Jesus Christ the Son of God the Saviour.” The fish stretched out on the anchor, and sometimes on a trident, is thus the perfect image of the crucifix. The anchor is in shape like a cross in the form of a T. However, but later and rarely, the rectilinear branch of the anchor has a cross-bar running through it, which stresses its crucial aspect, and is perhaps a figure of the patibulum.
The cross is to be found under the two forms T and †. The † is always alongside the name of some dead person. The T is also sometimes to be found in the same position; but more often it is in a very special place, in the middle of a name, usually of the same breadth as the other letters, but reaching beyond them at each end. For example in the catacomb of St. Peter and Marcellinus, ad duos lauros , we find ∆IONTYCIOY (Dionusiou). Curiously one finds the same arrangement with a bar above it, M, which all archaeologists believe to be an abbreviation for Martyr: thus VERICMVNDVS (Vericundus). These inscriptions with the T are ancient, belonging to the IInd or IIIrd century. I have not found any explanation of these among the archaeologists. Would they also be the mark of martyrdom, like the little crosses which they hold in their hands in the fresco in Santa Maria Antiqua? Could it even be the mark of a crucified martyr?
As we have seen, information about the cross of Jesus is scarce and indefinite. But I can see no reason for believing that a special cross was made for Him. The cross which was waiting for Him was just one of those on Golgotha. It would then have been not only a cross of medium height, but also a cross in the form of a T, which, according to the opinion of archæologists, was the normal form of Roman crosses.
6°. The nails.— The two hands and the two feet of Jesus were nailed to the cross. It was not merely the fulfilment of David’s prophecy:—“Foderunt manus meas et pedes meos— They have pierced my hands and my feet” (Ps. XXI), but it was also affirmed by the Saviour Himself, who said to ten of the apostles when they had assembled in the Cenacle, at the time of His apparition:—“Videte manus meas et pedes meos , quia ego sum—See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself” (Lk. XXIV, 39). Two or three patristic texts, which only speak of nails in the hands, do not tell against this affirmation in the Gospels.
The only problem to be solved is as to the number of these nails: were there three or four? In other words, were the two feet nailed separately or one above the other? Roman archaeology seems to be absolutely silent on this point. Ecclesiastical writers share the two opinions, but unfortunately they are unable, on either side, to produce any reasons in support of them.
St. Cyprian, St. Ambrose, and Gregory of Tours speak of four nails. On the other hand Nonius, in the IVth century, speaks of the feet crossed one before the other: “Pedibus positis mutuo percomplicatis. ” St. Gregory of Nazianzus writes: “Triclavi repositum ligno— Placed on the wood with three nails,” and St. Bonaventure: “Illi tres clavi sustinent totius corporis pondus— These three support the whole weight of the body.” We may note that St. Bonaventure would seem to imply there was no sedile. St. Brigit, in her revelations, and Mgr. Paleotto, who was Archbishop of Bologna in the XVIth century, make things more complicated by saying the feet were crossed, but that a nail went through each foot. This is the method depicted by Giotto in the Arena; but it is very complicated. We shall find that the anatomical solution is much simpler and rests on a firmer foundation.
Aesthetic questions may be involved, since oral tradition is not, as might be expected, unanimous on this point. It is thus of interest to study the evolution of the crucifix on this particular point. A long study could be written about this, but we propose to give a brief outline grosso modo as follows:—
The first crucifixes do not represent one who is being put to death. Our Lord is standing, in a majestic attitude, in front of the cross, against which He extends His arms horizontally. The hands display the head of a nail, but the feet are not nailed (the door of St. Sabina). In the ivory crucifix in the British Museum, Jesus is lifted up on to the cross, with His arms extended and hands nailed, but the feet are hanging vertically and are not nailed. The arrangement is the same in the Gospel Book of Rabula, but the legs are nailed to the stipes, a little above the ankles, and separately, the feet are hanging freely, obliquely.
This posture later on led artists to imagine the suppedaneum, which they first placed in a horizontal position beneath the feet, the latter being nailed on to it, side by side; we find it thus in the Church of St. Luke in Phocis. But these horizontal feet were not aesthetic, and the suppedaneum rapidly assumed the form of an oblique bracket, which it preserved almost down to our own day; the feet thus resumed an oblique and far more natural position. We first find this in the Byzantines, at Daphni, Aquilea and elsewhere, and then among the painters and sculptors of the Middle Ages. This does not prevent our frequently finding the feet nailed flat against the stipes , especially in France during the XIVth and XVth centuries.
The oblique suppedaneum also brings about another transformation, the crossing of the feet. At first the lower members are portrayed as vertical, but then we find a slight bending at the level of the knees, in order to raise the feet in a vertical direction and to nail them side by side on the bracket. But soon the knees became more bent owing to the sagging of the body, and the feet were crossed one before the other on the support. This was already done as early as 1270, and can be seen in Santa Maria in Vescovio. This tendency does not seem to have been at all widespread in Italy before the XVth century, but was already to be found in France in sculptures of the XIIth century. After this, we still from time to time find two feet nailed side by side with two nails, but it becomes increasingly the rule to cross the feet. Nearly always, as we shall see (ch. VI), the left foot is behind the right, which is contrary to what one sees on the shroud.
From all this it is clear that the choice among artists of three or four nails rests on purely aesthetic preoccupations, and that their concern for form led them steadily back to historical truth. They will only have to do away with their imaginary suppedaneum, and they will conform to it completely, like their predecessors of the XVIth century.
7°. Was Our Lord naked on the cross?— At first it seems clear that before crucifying Him they removed His clothes, since the soldiers shared them and drew lots for His coat (Jn. XIX, 23). The question remains whether He was allowed a linen cloth round the loins. According to Father Holzmeister, the Fathers are unanimous in asserting this nudity. But it would seem that they usually base this opinion on reasons of symbolism drawn from the Old Testament (as for example, that Adam was naked when he sinned, and that Jesus was naked in order to redeem us), and they are content to refer to the “Roman custom,” without there being any special historical tradition in regard to Jesus. Opposed to this opinion is an apocryphal passage in the Acts of Pilate , according to which, after removing Our Lord’s clothes, they placed on Him a “lention ” a Greek word meaning a linen cloth.
It has specially been objected that it would be surprising if the Romans, who had placed Our Lord’s clothes on Him once more for the carrying of the cross, contrary to their own customs, but no doubt as a concession to Jewish ideas of decency and to their national customs, would not have left Him, when on the cross, this last piece of clothing.
The Jewish custom, writes Father Lagrange, was as follows: “When they were within a distance of a few arm’s lengths, the condemned person was undressed; if it was a man, he was covered in front; if a woman, she was covered both in front and behind” (In Marc and Sanh ., VI, 14).
The whole question, however, remains affected by “Roman custom.” Did the Romans crucify the condemned naked? According to Dom Leclerc, Artemidorus (Onirocriticon ) says: “Gumnoi gar staurauntoi .” But what is meant by this word “gumnos, ” naked? All the men of old wore under their clothes, whatever they were, what was known as the subligaculum. It was like a pair of drawers, consisting of a band of linen, which was wound round the loins and the thighs, and was worn the whole time.
St. Mark tells us (XIV, 51) that after the arrest of Jesus a young man (probably himself) followed the procession, having only his sindon on his naked body. The sindon, as we shall see, was a long piece of linen, which was wound round the body under the tunic, and which would be retained as a garment when asleep. Mark had just been sleeping in the Garden of Olives; he had then removed his tunic, but would clearly have kept on his subligaculum under his sindon. Now, the guard seized hold of him, but he, leaving his sindon , “fled naked—gumnos ephugen ” But would he not, in this state of nakedness, have been wearing the subligaculum the whole time?
I will, if I may, compare with this text a similar story in the Fioretti; the custom was the same in the XIIIth century. St. Francis, so as to punish Friar Ruffino who had refused, on account of his unfitness, to preach in the town, ordered him to go to Assisi and to preach naked. Now, the title of Chapter XXIX contains the words “ignudo nato —naked as at his birth.” It is explained in the text, through the mouth of St. Francis, that this means “ignudo , solo co’panni di gamba— naked, wearing only his drawers.” I shall be told that this was another age. By all means; but the custom was the same and the word “naked” was probably understood in the same sense.
The question remains an open one. Let us see what iconography has to say about it. One may say that no artist has dared to represent Christ naked on the cross; to do so would be hateful. (See Fig. I; and yet the artist had the shroud before his eyes, in which Jesus was manifestly naked.) Dom Leclerc points out that on the carved gems, of which we have spoken, and which probably belong to the first centuries, the body of the Crucified is naked. I should say that it is difficult to judge according to the drawings which have been made of them. In any case, in the first important sculptures which we have (at St. Sabina and in the British Museum), Jesus (and the two thieves as well) is wearing the subligaculum.
This tradition has been carried on from that date in the countries of the East. Most of the Byzantine crucifixes (St. Luke, Daphni, etc.) are of this type. In the West on the other hand, and throughout all the early Middle Ages, the crucified is to a large extent clothed, as in the fresco of Santa Maria Antiqua (VIIIth century). One of the most characteristic types is the Santo Volto at Lucca, a cedar-wood crucifix which is said to have been carved by Nicodemus, but which must date from the VIIIth century at the earliest. The body is completely dressed (the whole garment is carved in wood) in a long robe with sleeves, which only leaves the hands and feet uncovered. In other places one finds a similar sculpture wearing rich clothing made of stuffs. The legs are straight and the whole gives an impression of majesty and triumph rather than of torture.
The Santo Volto has given rise to quite a school, and imitations of it are to be found over almost all the West; there is for instance the celebrated Saint Saulve (Saviour) of Amiens cathedral.
It is not till the first Italian renaissance (XIIIth century) and the period of French gothic sculpture that we once again meet with naked crucifixes, wearing only the subligaculum; this usually consists of a fairly long linen cloth, skilfully draped.
For my part I should not have too much difficulty in admitting that the imprints of the pelvis were made through the subligaculum. Volckringers vegetable images were made through the sheet which was supporting the plants on to the sheet which was enveloping them. Nor do the pieces of paper struck on to the plants for fixing them prevent the formation of images through them. But the subligaculum of Jesus would surely have been copiously stained with blood, and these clots would have left their counter-drawings.
In all this we must own that there is a combination of one’s concern for the aesthetic, for decency and for reverence, with the desire to express in a real way the true nature of the sufferings of the Passion. Having to a certain extent pleaded the cause of the subligaculum , I feel bound to return to the general opinion of the Fathers, who are so near to unanimity as to produce an impressive effect.
I have verified the texts quoted by Father Holzmeister. They all speak of “nudus, nuditas, gumnos, gumnesthai— naked, nakedness, naked, to be stripped naked.” St. John Chrysostom, for example, writes: “He was led naked to death—Epi to pathos ègeto gumnos ” “Eistèkei gumnos en mesô tôn ochlôn ekeinôn— He remained naked in the middle of that crowd.” I have also discovered a text of St. Ephrem the Syrian (Sermon VI on Holy Week, Latin translation by Father Joseph Leclerc) in which, like Alexander of Alexandria, he says that the sun hid itself before the nakedness of Jesus. (He exaggerates when he refers to the moon as well, for when it is full it does not appear in broad daylight.) Meanwhile he writes:—“Quia vero nudatus erat ille qui omnia vestit, astrorum lux obscurata est— The light of the stars was darkened, because He who clothes all things was truly stripped naked.” {9} Finally, we meet with even greater precision in St. John Chrysostom (Homily on the Epistle to the Colossians ). He speaks of Jesus who, before mounting on to the cross shed the old man as easily as His clothes, and he adds:—“He is anointed like the athletes who are about to enter the stadium.” Now, the whole of Greek sculpture portrays these athletes as entirely naked.
Did, then, all these patristic affirmations rest on an oral tradition which has been lost? It is difficult to come to a conclusion.
In any case, I repeat, never has any artist wished to make an entirely naked crucifix. Now, this is just what we shall find on the shroud. Could a forger possibly have conceived such an abnormal idea, and one which is so shocking to all our artistic traditions of decency and reverence?
8°. The placing on the cross.— It seems that there were only three methods by which this could be performed:
(1) The cross, completely put together, would be laid on the ground. Jesus would be crucified by the hands and the feet. The cross would then be raised up, and the stipes placed in a hole already prepared in the ground. Such a method would be complicated, difficult and dangerous. Artists like Rembrandt have been attracted by it, but I very much doubt whether it would have satisfied the executioners, especially if there was a number of crucifixions to be performed. From the technical standpoint I would have great difficulty in accepting it. Furthermore, it is ruled out by all that we know, as a certitude , about the Roman cross. It is said that the idea probably had its origin in the apocryphal Gospel of Peter. It was restored to a position of honour in the Middle Ages by St. Anselm.
(2) The whole cross is already in position and the condemned man is crucified standing up. This thesis has had its partisans and may come from the Acts of Pilate , another apocryphal work. There are the same archaeological objections to this. I can discover only one merit; it inspired my old friend Fra Angelico to make a very touching composition, which I think nobody else has succeeded in doing. In that fresco of cell 36 of the convent of San Marco, in Florence, Jesus is standing with His back against the cross, at the top of a short ladder; He Himself is holding out His hands, which two executioners, whose ladders are leaning against the back of the patibulum , are about to nail.
(3) Jesus is nailed to the patibulum on the ground; He is then placed with His back to the stipes , and He is then lifted up so that the patibulum can be fixed on to the top of the stake. In order to make the lifting up easier, one may imagine Him going backwards up a ladder which is leaning against the stipes , like that in Fra Angelico’s picture.
This is the simplest solution, and the one which would have made things easiest for the executioners, and this, as I have said, is an argument of the first importance. It is also in agreement with the texts of St. Athanasius, St. John Chrysostom, St. Ambrose and St. Augustine: “Crucem ascendisse— To have gone up on to the cross; se permisit in crucem levari —He allowed Himself to be lifted onto the cross.” Finally it is the only solution which agrees with all that archæology has taught us about crucifixion according to Roman usage.
9°. The blow with the lance.— I have always wondered what was the reason for that strange gesture, which seems to be abnormal for a soldier who had just been present at the death of Jesus. The point of view of these guards had greatly changed during the three hours’ agony, in the way of pity and of respect. The centurion, making himself the spokesman of the men (St. Matthew attributes the phrase to the whole group of men), had just solemnly proclaimed: “Indeed this was a just man,” (Lk.) or following the Hebrew form of St. Mark and St. Matthew: “Indeed this was the Son of God.”
Now, they were quite sure that Jesus was truly dead; they had spared Him the crucifragium, which was to bring the lives of the thieves to a rapid end by bringing on tetany and asphyxia, as we shall see. So it was the heart of a corpse which one of these soldiers was about to strike with a lance!
The fact is that, if we have interpreted the legal texts correctly, this wounding of the heart was the regulation act which had to be carried out, in order to be able to deliver up the body for burial.
According to St. John, it was after the blow with the lance that Joseph of Arimathea went to Antonia, to ask Pilate for the body of Jesus. But, since they reached Calvary, the whole platoon were able to see this important group (“and makrothen other women,” adds St. Mark after naming some of them) who were surrounding Mary and John and who evidently made up the family. If these had all stood apart at first (apo makrothen ), outside the circle of the sentries, they must have drawn in closer, after the departure of the insolent Jews. This is proved by the words of Jesus to His Mother and to His beloved disciple. Had the soldiers heard them speaking of their intention of asking for His body? In any case, it was clear that they intended to do so. The blow with the lance, once the death had been verified, was a natural and kindly gesture, a preparation for delivering up the body, in accordance with the regulations.
I must frankly own that I find relief in this idea and that I understand better.