Michael Kelly“Christ’s body was real, his suffering was real. We might say that humanity left its mark on him, and the human condition took its toll”, writes Editor Michael Kelly
The Italian port city of Naples is a mix of chaos and beauty. I can certainly say, without fear of contradiction, that Naples is unlikely to win the Italian equivalent of a TidyTowns award (if such an award exists!).
The Romans had a saying: Vedi Napoli e poi muori! — See Naples and die! – so enchanting was the city. Nowadays, Italians say when you visit Naples, you cry twice: once when you arrive and once when you leave. With crumbling buildings and a reputation for petty theft, Naples is not for the faint-hearted.
But, in my book, it is a must-see city. Last week, when I was in Naples, I made a visit to a place that has become a familiar rest-stop for me over the years, the ‘Cristo Velato’ or ‘Veiled Christ’ sculpture. Preserved in the Cappella Sansevero, the sculpture was completed in 1753 by Giuseppe Sanmartino, one of the great masters of the late baroque period.
Sanmartino was charged with making the sculpture depicting the Lord in death as realistic as possible.
The brief set by Raimondo di Sangro, a local nobleman and patron of the arts, was for “a life-sized marble statue, representing Our Lord Jesus Christ dead, and covered in a transparent shroud carved from the same block as the statue”.
The result is a hauntingly beautiful image that helps one understand the full implications of the Incarnation – the fact that, in Jesus, God took on human flesh as the prayer says so God might know and love in us, what He knows and loves in his own son”.
Christ’s body is completely lifeless and drained, so much so that the figure appears completely devoid of flesh even, just bruised and broken bones exposed demonstrating complete vulnerability and the defeat of the body.
Beautiful
The soft covers of the veil, are so stunningly beautiful one art critic has observed that it is almost as if the compassionate covering made the poor limbs still more naked and exposed, and the lines of the tortured body even more inexorable and precise.
What is striking about the sculpture is that on the Lord’s forehead, one observed the swollen vein as if still pulsating, a vivid reminder of the agony. Also, the wounds of the nails on the feet and on the thin hands, and the sunken side finally relaxed in the freedom of death.
The sculpture also speaks of hope beyond the flesh – but not in a dualistic way. Christ’s body was real, his suffering was real. We might say that humanity left its mark on him, and the human condition took its toll. This is why artists have traditionally taken care while depicting the Resurrection to show that Christ’s redeemed body still contains the marks of his passion. Think of della Francesca’s La Resurrezione where Christ is carrying the flag of victory, but there is still a pained (almost scarred) look in his eyes.
Theologically, all of this reveals a deep truth. The truth that God knows the struggles of the human condition, God knows that it’s not easy and that we endure wounds on the way. But Christ’s resurrected body reveals that Heaven is a place where these wounds are healed, but not hidden.
St Gennaro The patron of Naples is St Gennaro, and many local boys are still named after the famous protector of the city. Gennaro is probably best known for the curious ritual of the liquefaction (becoming liquid) of his dried blood.
Thousands of people assemble to witness this event in Naples Cathedral three times a year: on September 19 (the traditional date of his martyrdom), on December 16 (celebrating his patronage of Naples and its archdiocese), and on the Saturday before the first Sunday of May (commemorating the reunification of his relics).
While the Church has always supported the celebrations, it has never formulated an official statement on the phenomenon and maintains a neutral stance about scientific investigations.
When the liquefaction fails to happen, Neopolitans believe great misfortune descends upon the city.
In 1980, St Gennaro’s blood failed to turn to liquid; not long afterwards 3,000 people died in an earthquake at nearby Irpinia.
Walking in his footsteps
There are few more moving ways to contemplate the life of Christ than walking in his footsteps in the Holy Land. To see the same scenery and terrain that Jesus saw and to walk along the areas where he walked is a moving experience.
I will travel to the Holy Land in September for a Christian solidarity pilgrimage led by Archbishop Eamon Martin. There are a few remaining placed for anyone interested in joining us.
More information from www.maptravel.ie or call +353 (01) 878 3111.