The inconvenient truth in the stations of the cross
It is time to confront anti-Semitism in church art.
I have always been fascinated by the drama of the stations of the cross and humiliated by their remembrance of my shared responsibility in the crucifixion of Jesus. However, this realization is more suitable to come while praying at the stations rather than seeing works of art: while the artistic interpretations of the stations of the cross can be impressive in ambition and detail, it is in those details that we sometimes find the devil.
After many years of sitting nearby and praying for the stations, I have only recently noticed hooked noses. Since then I have recognized other Jewish stereotypes in the stations of numerous churches, including thick lips and even horns. On the contrary, in a discoloration of his Jewishness, Jesus sometimes has lighter colored hair than the Jews around him.
In addition to these physical characteristics, it is common to see a rigid religious legalism represented in the portraits of ancient Jews. Many stations contain religious figures with arms tightly crossed, distant, who look indignantly at the scene and gesticulate accusing Jesus or pushing him towards Calvary.
Although it seems incongruous, many, many stations include a Jewish religious figure holding a scroll. While the disbelief about the historicity of the artistic choices made on the small scenes represented in each station must always be suspended, it seems rather unlikely that someone would bring a religious scroll to a crucifixion. (What other type of parchment could it be?) In the eleventh station of my church, for example, the porter nods to the unrolled parchment, discussing it with a colleague, presumably to justify that Jesus was nailed to the cross in front of them. In another set, the man holds the parchment to his chest and points to a fallen Jesus.
This goes far beyond theoretically portraying real individuals, such as Caiaphas. So why is there the parchment there? Some would see it as part of Jesus' religious rejection, which is not an integral part of the history of salvation and seems irrelevant. More than just a repudiation by the existing religious establishment, the parchment must mean the Law (which is much more permanent than the current high priest) and, by extension, those who live it. Metaphorically, his presence points beyond Jesus' contemporary Jewish leaders to accuse all Jews.
Various scholars, including Sara Lipton, Ruth Mellinkoff and Heinz Schreckenberg, have found that such stereotypes are common in medieval Christian art, as well as in theological studies and commentaries, and intended to separate, defame and condemn Jews. While stations in American churches are much more recent, it is not difficult to imagine that these stereotypical styles survived because it was the way artists - even if they lacked malicious intent - learned how to represent Jews. The same could be said for some theologians and priests.
When I asked the experts for my comments, some were not surprised while others resisted, rejecting my view of political correctness. One asked if there were Jews in my family who apparently explained - and invalidated - my perceptions. Some have told me that the presence of Jewish religious figures shows the religious renunciation of Jesus and is not a generalized condemnation of the Jews. Some have claimed that the compassionate expressions of Veronica, the women of Jerusalem and Joseph of Arimathea have shown that the stations are not anti-Semitic.
There may be something about this, but remember a review of The Passion of Christ that remarked: "The only good Jews were Christians." I was also suggested to see the stations as anti-Roman because of their hostile depictions. Maybe, but the point would be stronger if the Romans had been victims of violent prejudice for millennia.
As the church has maintained for centuries, however, the responsibility for the death of Jesus falls on all sinners at all times, not exclusively, or even disproportionately, on the Jews. Drawing on the Roman catechism of the XNUMXth century, the catechism of the Catholic Church observes: "The Church does not hesitate to blame Christians for the most serious responsibility for the torments inflicted on Jesus, a responsibility with which too often they have weighed only on the Jews".
While most Christians profess this teaching of universal responsibility (in The Passion of Christ, the hands that strike the nails in Jesus belong to the director Mel Gibson to recognize his shared responsibility), over the centuries, many have nevertheless been able to attribute extra— or, as the Catechism recognizes, exclusive: the blame on the Jews, leading to pogroms, genocide, and now to chilling marches and choruses in 21st century America. Some scholars claim that Christian art has a role in fueling this hatred.
I don't think that makes anti-Semitic stations like a devotion: I think most devotees think about their responsibilities and not about Jews. But I think it is important to take note of the fact that some stations of the cross, often before Vatican II, abandon themselves to anti-Semitic stereotypes. Setting aside any judgment on those previous artists, what should we do to offend the stations in our churches today?
As ambiguous as it may sound, I don't argue about mass removals or station replacements (though, interestingly, Washington National Cathedral recently removed stained glass windows with images of Confederate generals). Not all station sets are "guilty". Many have cultural significance and some are beautiful. But it seems important to take advantage of a teachable moment. After all, if the stations are meant to help us reflect on Jesus' sacrifice, shouldn't we be aware of the elements in them that - intentionally, knowingly or not - divert our responsibility?
A church where I found stereotyped stations was a newer building with, no doubt, stations transferred from an older one. The most modern windows of the new structure presented images that celebrated the Jewish heritage of the Old Testament of Christianity. The stained glass tablets of the Ten Commandments were near the station with the Jewish scroll bearer, a juxtaposition that stimulates interesting discussions.
At the very least, this discussion seems noteworthy and the church itself can provide theological guidance. Nostra Aetate (Declaration on the Church's relationship with non-Christian religions) maintains that "what happened in the passion of [Jesus] cannot be accused of all Jews, without distinctions, therefore alive, nor against today's Jews. . . . Jews should not be presented as rejected or cursed by God, as if this were followed by the Holy Scriptures. "
Other documents from the Vatican and US bishops offer more specific principles. The bishops' "Criteria for evaluating the dramatizations of the Passion" state that "Jesus must not be depicted in contrast with the Law (Torah)". Although they refer to works of the Passion, the admonition certainly also includes visual art: "The use of religious symbols requires careful evaluation. Exhibits of the menorah, tables of the law and other Jewish symbols should appear throughout the game and be connected with Jesus and his friends no less than with the Temple or with those who oppose Jesus. "It could be assumed that this also applies to scrolls held by Jewish religious figures in the stations.
Just as some think they see too much in some stations, I'm sure others see more. Not all station series I saw contained offensive elements. The stations deserve further analysis, both by scholars and congregations, an assessment that should also include Jewish perspectives.
My argument could be summarized in what the Vatican notes on the "correct way of presenting Jews and Judaism in the preaching and catechesis of the Roman Catholic Church" said more than 30 years ago: "The urgency and the importance of a precise, objective and rigorously accurate teaching on Judaism for our faithful also follows the danger of anti-Semitism, which is always ready to reappear in various forms. The question is not simply to eradicate the remains of anti-Semitism among the faithful still to be found here and there, but rather to arouse in them, through educational work, an exact knowledge of the completely unique "bond" (Nostra Aetate, 4 ) which joins us as Church for Jews and Judaism ".
Rather than condemn the stations of the cross or church, such educational work should identify and treat long-term cancer. Both from the altar and in small groups, such an analysis can be uncomfortable - reactions to the removal of Confederate statues are considered - but it should happen. When anti-Semitism resurfaced from the shadows, the US bishops quickly condemned the racism and "neo-Nazism" that tragically appeared in Charlottesville, Virginia. We should also be prepared to shed light on our history, especially what is hidden before our eyes.