Easter, Day 4: Weeping Mary

LOOK: Mary Magdalene Stood Crying by Kateryna Kuziv

Kuziv, Kateryna_Mary Magdalene stood crying
Kateryna Kuziv (Ukrainian, 1993–), Mary Magdalene Stood Crying, 2021. Egg tempera and gilding on gessoed wood, 40 × 30 cm.

LISTEN: “Weeping Mary” | Traditional American, 19th century | Arranged by Dan Damon and performed by the Dan Damon Quartet, feat. Sheilani Alix, on Beautiful Darkness, 2022

Is there anybody here like Mary a-weeping?
Call to my Jesus and he’ll draw nigh.
Is there anybody here like Mary a-weeping?
Call to my Jesus and he’ll draw nigh.

Refrain:
Glory, glory
Glory, glory
Glory be to my God on high
Glory, glory
Glory, glory
Glory be to my God on high

Is there anybody here like Peter a-sinking? . . .

Is there anybody here like jailers a-trembling? . . .

This early American spiritual was transmitted orally before first being recorded in The Social Harp (Philadelphia, 1855), a shape-note hymnal compiled by John Gordon McCurry (1821–1886). McCurry was a farmer, tailor, and singing teacher who lived most of his life in Hart County in northeastern Georgia. The Social Harp credits the music for “Weeping Mary” to him and gives it the year 1852, but I think that indicates not composition but notation and harmonization; in other words, McCurry is the arranger.

In the description of their 1973 facsimile reprinting of The Social Harp, the University of Georgia Press writes, “In the time between the [American] Revolution and the Civil War, the singing of folk spirituals was as common among rural whites as among blacks. This was the music of the Methodist camp meeting and the Baptist revival, and white spirituals in fact are known chiefly because homebred composers sometimes wrote them down, gave them harmonic settings, and published them in songbooks.”

I regard “Weeping Mary” as an Easter song, since the primary verse refers to Mary Magdalene standing outside the empty tomb weeping because she doesn’t know what happened to the body of her Lord (John 20). Then a man she supposes to be the gardener engages her in conversation—and turns out to be the one she’s been seeking, only he’s alive!

The jailer in the third verse refers to the Philippian jailer from Acts 16, tasked with guarding the prisoners Paul and Silas, who were falsely charged with disturbing the peace. One night an earthquake strikes, releasing the chains from the walls and breaking open the cell doors. The jailer raises his sword to kill himself to avoid the shame of having let his wards escape. But Paul alerts him that they’re still there, after which the jailer “fell down trembling” and asked the two what he must do to be saved. “Believe in the Lord Jesus,” they reply. After which he and his whole household convert to the new faith.

“Call to my Jesus and he’ll draw nigh,” the song promises.

Another “Weeping Mary” verse not in The Social Harp but that I’ve heard added in some renditions is “Is there anybody here like Thomas a-doubting?”

More subdued than the typical Easter fare, “Weeping Mary” testifies to the nearness of God in our sorrows, fears, doubts, and weaknesses. It embraces those who are anxious, grieving, or struggling, offering a gentle word.

I first learned this song from a recording by the American folk musician Sam Amidon, which I also really like:

In Brattleboro, Vermont, where he grew up in the 1980s and ’90s, he told NPR, shape-note singing was a social tradition, something that happened once a month, with singers moving to different people’s houses, including his own. His parents are the well-known folk musicians Peter and Mary Alice Amidon.

In his rendition he uses the grammatically incorrect but historically faithful verb that appears in original songbook, “Are there anybody . . .”

For a more vigorous jazz arrangement, which includes scat singing and a trumpet solo, see June April’s 2007 album What Am I?. She uses just the first verse.

And here’s a traditional performance in four-part a cappella by the Dordt College Concert Choir, directed by Benjamin Kornelis:

Easter, Day 3: Today Salvation Has Come

LOOK: Easter Morning by Caspar David Friedrich

Friedrich,Caspar David_Easter Morning
Caspar David Friedrich (German, 1774–1840), Easter Morning, ca. 1828–35. Oil on canvas, 43.7 × 34.4 cm. Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid.

I got to see this painting in person when I was in Madrid in 2018, and boy, what a beauty! Caspar David Friedrich was the leading painter of German Romanticism, exploring the spiritual and emotional connections between humanity and nature.

His Easter Morning shows a winding, tree-lined path at early dawn as winter gives way to spring, the leaves just starting to appear on the branches. Three women wrapped in shawls step onto the path, joining others who are making their way to church to worship the risen Lord. Although this is a contemporary scene, the women evoke the three devoted Marys of scripture who got up early one momentous Sunday morning to visit Jesus’s tomb.

LISTEN: All-Night Vigil, op. 37, no. 13: “Dnes spaseniye” by Sergei Rachmaninoff, 1915 | Performed by the Choir of Clare College, Cambridge, dir. Graham Ross, on Haec dies: Music for Easter, 2016

Dnes spaseniye miru byst,
poyem voskresshemu iz groba
i nachalniku zhizni nasheya:
razrushiv bo smertiyu smert,
pobedu dade nam i veliyu milost.

English translation:

Today salvation has come to the world.
Let us sing to him who rose from the dead,
the Author of our life.
Having destroyed death by death,
he has given us the victory and great mercy.

Celebrated as one of the greatest musical achievements of the Russian Orthodox Church, Rachmaninoff’s All-Night Vigil (Всенощное бдение / Vsénoshchnoye bdéniye) is an a cappella choral composition that sets texts from the All-Night Vigil, a liturgical service sung the evening before a major feast, including Pascha, the Feast of the Resurrection of Our Lord. The work premiered in Moscow in March 1915 with the all-male Moscow Synodal Choir and was warmly received but soon after, in 1917, was suppressed, like all church music, by the new Soviet government. For this reason, it didn’t become known in the West until the 1960s.

A troparion inviting meditation on the exalted mystery of the Resurrection, “Today Salvation Has Come” (Днесь спасеніе / Dnes spaseniye) is the thirteenth of the piece’s fifteen movements. It draws on the znamenny style of chant.

Easter, Day 2: Death to Life

LOOK: Golden Dawn by Richard Pousette-Dart

Pousette-Dart, Richard_Golden Dawn
Richard Pousette-Dart (American, 1916–1992), Golden Dawn, 1952. Oil and graphite on linen, 93 1/2 × 51 1/2 in. (237.5 × 130.8 cm). North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]

This abstract expressionist painting by Richard Pousette-Dart shows an explosion of light, and human bones, as I read it, reassembling—death being translated into life. I’m reminded of Ezekiel’s vision in the valley, of scattered skeletal remains coming back together, growing flesh, standing up, and receiving breath—a foretaste (one, of the descent of God’s Spirit at Pentecost, but also) of the coming resurrection of all the dead, the firstfruits of which was Christ.

LISTEN: The Protecting Veil: “Christ Is Risen!” by John Tavener, 1988 | Performed by the Ulster Orchestra, feat. Maria Kliegel, on John Tavener: The Protecting Veil; In Alium, 1999; re-released on The Essential John Tavener, 2014

This is section 6 of 8 from John Tavener’s The Protecting Veil, a work for cello and strings commissioned by the BBC for its 1989 Promenade season. It’s a Marian work, its title referencing the name of an Eastern Orthodox feast that commemorates the Mother of God’s miraculous appearance over Constantinople in the early tenth century to protect the Christians living there from a foreign invasion.

The “Christ Is Risen!” section is shimmering and exultant, evoking Jesus’s bursting out of the tomb. But about halfway through, the tempo slows and the mood softens, perhaps suggesting, after his triumphant victory over death, a quieter, tearful moment of reuniting with his mom.

The Protecting Veil, Tavener said, “is an attempt to make a lyrical ikon in sound, rather than in wood, and using the music of the cellist to paint rather than a brush.”

The painting featured above is no religious icon, but I see the gospel in it.

Easter, Day 1: Rise Up

This is the first of eight daily art-and-song posts, one for each day of the Easter Octave.

LOOK: Folio 8r (detail) from the Harley Psalter

Resurrection (Harley Psalter)
Detail from the Harley Psalter, Canterbury, first half of 11th century. London, British Library, Harley MS 603, fol. 8r.

Produced at Christ Church in Canterbury, England, in the eleventh century, the Harley Psalter is celebrated for its lively and delicate multicolored line drawings executed in green, blue, pale sepia, and red inks, which illustrate individual lines from the Psalms, sometimes interpreting them in light of the New Testament. The manuscript is closely based on the ninth-century Utrecht Psalter from France, with a very similar arrangement and many near-identical images.

Folio 8r illustrates Psalm 16 (Psalm 15 in the Vulgate), even though the text of that psalm appears on the following page. I’ll focus on the three drawings at the bottom left (pictured above).

On the far left, the risen Christ pulls Adam and Eve up out of the pit of hell, trampling Hades (death personified as a crumpled man). To the right, three women go to visit Jesus’s tomb early on Easter morning, only to find it empty, save for the abandoned graveclothes—which we can see through an opening in the lower story.

These two vignettes illustrate Psalm 16:10: “For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption” (KJV). In the New Testament, both Peter (Acts 2:24–28) and Paul (Acts 13:35) apply this verse to Jesus’s resurrection.

The Hebrew word translated into English as “hell” is Sheol, the realm of the dead. In the Apostles’ Creed, the church proclaims that Jesus “was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into hell [or ‘to the dead,’ as some translations render it]. On the third day he rose again . . .” As have and will most all humans, Jesus went down into the grave—but God did not leave him there. Nor will he leave his holy ones in that shadowy netherworld of deceased souls. Paul writes that Jesus is the first fruits of the harvest of eternal life (1 Cor. 15:20), his resurrection a foretaste and guarantee of the resurrection of all believers. That’s why the church developed the image of the Harrowing of Hell, or Anastasis, showing Christ triumphantly retrieving our ancestors in the faith from the Pit.

Matthew records that at the moment of Jesus’s death, the earth quaked, opening tombs, “and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many” (Matt. 27:52–53). What a strange phenomenon! That’s the harrowing.

The figure who appears in the Harley Psalter between the Harrowing of Hell and the Holy Women at the Tomb is the psalmist himself. He stands on a hillside holding a cup in his right hand and touching his lips with his left, harking to Psalm 16:4–5: “Their [idolaters’] drink offerings of blood I will not pour out or take their names upon my lips. The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup . . .”

Resurrection (Harley Psalter)
BL, Harley MS 603, fol. 8r

To view all 112 drawings from the Harley Psalter in high resolution, visit https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Harley_Psalter_(11th_c.)_-_BL_Harley_603.

If you want to explore the manuscript’s predecessor, the Utrecht Psalter, the Universiteitsbibliotheek Utrecht (its owning institution) provides a full, annotated digital scan, in which every vignette is linked to the psalm verse it illustrates and accompanied by a description. It’s a wonderful resource! Here’s folio 8r, for example.

Resurrection (Utrecht Psalter)
Psalm 15(16) from the Utrecht Psalter, Reims, France (Hautvilliers Abbey), ca. 820-30. Utrecht, Universiteitsbibliotheek, MS 32, fol. 8r.

See also the Eadwine Psalter, another copy of the Utrecht Psalter, only slightly later than Harley. Folio 24r corresponds with folio 8r in Utrecht and Harley.

Resurrection (Eadwine Psalter)
Psalm 15(16) from the Eadwine Psalter, Canterbury, ca. 1150. Cambridge, Trinity College, R.17.1, fol. 24r.

LISTEN: “Rise Up (Lauds)” by Dylan McKeeman, on Good Morning, Happy Easter, vol. 3, by the Morning and Night Collective, 2014

Rise up this morning
Jesus is risen!
Rise up this morning and praise
Rise up this morning
Jesus is risen!
Rise up this morning and praise

He is risen indeed
He is risen for me
He is risen this blessed day
He is risen indeed
He has set us all free
He’s risen this blessed day

Dylan McKeeman wrote this song while serving as the director of music and arts at Reynolda EPC in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. He is currently the director of modern worship and production at First Presbyterian Church, also in Winston-Salem.

The subtitle “Lauds” (Latin for “praises”) refers to an early-morning canonical hour designated for prayer, corresponding with dawn.

The song opens with the low, bowed tones of an upright bass, and then a violin, banjo, and guitar enter, all improvising around an F2 chord. Vocalist Jess Silk provides an ethereal hum underneath, which, together with the instruments, evokes a mist lifting. After about the first minute, the song modulates up a whole step to G and a bright banjo tune kicks in along with the summons: “Rise up this morning, Jesus is risen!”

McKeeman is on lead vocals, banjo, and guitar.

Holy Week: Out of Sleep

LOOK: Anastasis by Brett Canét-Gibson

Canet-Gibson, Brett_Anastasis
Brett Canét-Gibson (Australian, 1965–), Anastasis, 2016. Photographic digital print, 90 × 60 cm.

Anastasis is the Greek word for “resurrection.” This image by the Australian photographer Brett Canét-Gibson shows the dead Christ covered in a translucent burial shroud, which appears pixelated, out of joint. Some kind of mysterious transformation is afoot. It’s as if Jesus is in the process of waking up, reconstituting, his form coming back into focus as death comes undone. The shimmying squares create a sense of motion and effervescence.

LISTEN: “The Communion Verse of Holy Saturday” | Traditional Orthodox liturgical hymn (in Tone 4), arr. Boris Ledkovsky, mid-20th century | Performed by the Holy Trinity Monastery and Seminary Choir of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia, Jordanville, New York, on Let Us Sing of John, the Hierarch of Christ, 2011

This verse is sung at the end of the Vespers with Divine Liturgy service of the Orthodox Church on the morning of Great and Holy Saturday. Here is the Slavonic text, followed by a phonetic rendering and the English translation:

Воста яко спя Господь: и воскресе спасаяй нас. Аллилуиа.

Vosta yako spya Gospod, i voskrese spasayai nas. Aleluija.

The Lord awoke as one out of sleep, and he is risen to save us. Alleluia.

Even though Holy Saturday commemorates Jesus’s repose in the tomb, this hymn for the occasion anticipates his resurrection. The first half is taken from Psalm 78:65a: “Then the LORD awaked as one out of sleep.”

As we wait in the darkness of what looks like defeat, victorious new life is stirring, about to emerge.

Holy Week: Love Divine

LOOK: Crozier head with the Crucifixion

Crucifixion (crozier head)
Crozier Head with the Crucifixion, Paris, ca. 1350. Elephant ivory, 5 13/16 × 3 1/8 × 1 1/2 in. (14.8 × 8 × 3.8 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. The reverse side depicts the Virgin and Child with Saint Denis.

This carved head of a bishop’s staff from medieval France depicts Christ crucified on the tree of the cross, flanked by his mother Mary and his friend John. From the base of the cross flows a healing stream of blood, which an angel kneels to catch in his hands.

LISTEN: “O Love Divine, What Hast Thou Done” | Words by Charles Wesley, 1742

I can’t decide which of the following two tunes I prefer, so I proffer them both. The first is a traditional four-part hymn tune, sung a cappella, whereas the second is a contemporary guitar-driven tune.

>> Music by Isaac Baker Woodbury, 1850 | Performed by the Choral Arts Society of Washington, dir. Scott Tucker, on Lift Up Your Voice: Hymns of Charles Wesley, 2015:

>> Music by Heaven’s Dave, on Beyond the Starry Skies, 2023:

O Love divine, what hast thou done?
Th’ immortal God hath died for me;
The Father’s co-eternal Son
Bore all my sins upon the tree.
Th’ immortal God for me hath died;
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.

Behold him, all ye that pass by,
The bleeding Prince of Life and Peace;
Come, sinners, see your Savior die,
And say, “Was ever grief like his?”
Come feel with me his blood applied;
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.

Is crucified for me and you,
To bring us rebels back to God.
Believe, believe the record true:
We all are bought with Jesus’ blood.
Pardon for all flows from his side;
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.

Then let us sit beneath his cross,
And gladly catch the healing stream;
All things for him account but loss,
And give up all our hearts to him—
Of nothing speak, or think beside,
But Jesus and him crucified.

Holy Week: “See how they done my Lord”

LOOK: Stations of the Cross #2 and #11 by Charles Ndege

Ndege, Charles_Jesus Takes Up His Cross
Charles S. Ndege (Tanzanian, 1966–), Station II: Jesus Takes Up His Cross. Wall painting from St. Joseph Mukasa Balikuddembe Church, Nyakato (Mwanza region), Tanzania. Source: Were You There? Stations of the Cross by Diana L. Hayes

Ndege, Charles_Jesus Is Nailed to the Cross
Charles S. Ndege, Station XI: Jesus Is Nailed to the Cross

The cement walls of St. Joseph Mukasa Balikuddembe Church in Nyakato, Tanzania, bear a series of murals by the Tanzanian artist Charles Ndege depicting the Stations of the Cross, set around the southern shores of Lake Victoria.

I couldn’t find what year the murals were painted, but the earliest would be 1995, as they are mentioned (and one is reproduced) in the book Towards an African Narrative Theology by the American Maryknoll missionary priests Joseph Healey and Donald Sybertz, which came out in 1996.

I found out about Ndege’s Stations from the book Were You There? Stations of the Cross (Orbis, 2000), a small paperback that reproduces all fourteen scenes in full color and features reflections by the African American Catholic theologian Diana L. Hayes. I recommend it.

You can also view the images in this document provided by Maryknoll, with descriptions and prayers by Fr. Joseph Veneroso, MM.

LISTEN: “See How They Done My Lord,” traditional African American gospel song | Performed by the Angola Quartet (there are actually six voices) from Camp A on Angola Prison Spirituals, 1959

See how they done my Lord
See how they done my Lord
(Can’t you) See how they done my Lord
Lord, have mercy on me

Well, they whipped him all night long
They whipped him all night long
(Tell me) Whipped him all night long
Lord, have mercy on me

Well, they whipped him up a hill
They whipped him up a hill
(Tell me) Whipped him up a hill
Lord, have mercy on me

Well, they nailed him to the cross
They nailed him to the cross
(Tell me) Nailed him to the cross
Lord, have mercy on me

Well, two thieves was hanging beside him
Two thieves was hanging beside him
(Tell me) Two thieves was hanging beside him
Lord, have mercy on me

This song is sung by six unidentified men incarcerated at the Louisiana State Penitentiary, known colloquially as Angola Prison, one of the largest maximum-security prisons in the United States. A lament reflecting on Christ’s passion, it’s one of a series of Black gospel songs and spirituals recorded at the prison by the folklorist and musicologist Harry Oster in the late 1950s.

“How they done him” is slang for “how they wronged him” or “how they treated him badly.”

I can’t help but wonder if the singers identified with the abuse Christ suffered and found comfort in knowing that God himself walked the road before them and is with them in their own ways of sorrow. Perhaps (instead or too) they saw themselves in the penitent thief mentioned in the last stanza, who acknowledged the justice of his own sentence and asked Jesus to remember him in God’s kingdom.

The song’s refrain, “Lord, have mercy,” is a common one in liturgical churches, one that invokes God’s mercy in light of personal and corporate sins. It’s a plea for God’s compassion and forgiveness, and for relief.

Holy Week: Silent Before His Accusers

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
    yet he did not open his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter
    and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
    so he did not open his mouth.

—Isaiah 53:7

As soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the whole council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” He answered him, “You say so.” Then the chief priests accused him of many things. Pilate asked him again, “Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you.” But Jesus made no further reply, so that Pilate was amazed.

—Mark 15:1–5

LOOK: Christ before the Judge by Cecil Collins

Collins, Cecil_Christ before the Judge
Cecil Collins (British, 1908–1989), Christ before the Judge, 1954–56. Oil on board, 47 1/2 × 35 1/2 in. (120 × 90 cm). Gardiner Chantry, Winchester Cathedral, England. Photo: Anne Baring.

I learned of this painting from the book The Image of Christ in Modern Art by Richard Harries. In the painting, Harries writes, Pilate is fierce, angular, aggressive, baring his teeth. “He represents the mechanism of law against Christ, now striated by the flagellation, and wearing a large crown of thorns. But Christ’s eyes are wide open, revealing a strong, serene and eternal order that remains untouched by the harshness.”

LISTEN: “Silencio,” movement 28 from La pasión según San Marcos (St. Mark’s Passion) by Osvaldo Golijov, 2000

The video below is the world premiere performance by the Orquesta La Pasión and the Schola Cantorum de Venezuela, conducted by María Guinand, on September 5, 2000, at the Beethovenhalle in Stuttgart, Germany. The “Silencio” movement is cued up for playback, but I recommend listening to the entire work!

Osvaldo Golijov (born 1960) is an Argentine composer born in La Plata to Ukrainian and Romanian Jewish parents. He left his native Argentina in 1983 to study for three years at the Rubin Academy of Music in Jerusalem, and then he settled in the United States. He lives in Massachusetts.

Golijov was one of four composers commissioned by the International Bach Academy of Stuttgart in 1996 to write a Passion oratorio to commemorate the 250th anniversary of J. S. Bach’s death in 2000. (I featured another, Tan Dun, in a recent roundup.) Golijov chose Mark’s Gospel as his basis, compiling the libretto from a Spanish translation of the Gospel and other Spanish-language sources, and for the music, drawing on a variety of Latin American styles and rhythms.

The “Silencio” movement of Golijov’s La pasión según San Marcos captures the moment at which Christ stands before Pontius Pilate, the governor of the Roman province of Judaea. He had already appeared before Caiaphas, the Jewish high priest; now he’s been handed over to another authority to stand trial yet again.

Much to everyone’s surprise, he does not defend himself against the charges of sedition, treason, and blasphemy—not because he was guilty, but because he knew it would do no good. He had already told the people who he was and what he was there to do—had demonstrated it with miracles—but most of those in power continued to disbelieve and resist him. And so he returns their accusations with a dignified silence. He has purposed to take his gospel all the way to the cross to further reveal the heart of God.

(Related post: “The ‘Nothing’ that won our salvation”)

“Silencio” (Silence), which comes between “Amanecer: Ante Pilato” (Dawn: Before Pilate) and “Sentencia” (Sentence), consists of clapping and stomping in the mode of flamenco, the texture thickening to convey ratcheting tension. “Spanish flamenco suggests the influence of the colonizing power, akin to ancient Rome in the Holy Land,” Thomas May writes, “and is thus suitable for Jesus’ betrayal and sentencing by the authorities – but also for the fatalistic aura of his impending death.”

There are no vocals in this movement, and the only instruments are the cajón and body percussion. The chorus creates rhythms with their hands and feet, representing the chief priests and scribes and the gathered crowds who wait anxiously for a word from the accused, but who are more anxious still for a verdict.

Holy Week: Cords of Death

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, “My soul is deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me, yet not what I want but what you want.”

—Matthew 26:36–39

LOOK: Gethsemane by Carola Faller-Barris

Faller-Barris, Carola_Gethsemane
Carola Faller-Barris (German, 1964–), Gethsemane, 2013. Collage and ink on handmade paper, 40 × 50 cm. © VG Bild-Kunst Bonn.

In this artwork, the contemporary German artist Carola Faller-Barris has collaged to paper a photo cutout of a traditionally sculpted corpus of Christ from a crucifix, orienting him sideways as if he’s lying on the ground, his arms outstretched to the heavens. But he’s tangled in twine, representing the sin, hate, misunderstanding, and betrayal that have felled him, or else the oppressiveness of death, cutting holes through his hands and feet and restricting his movement. The words of the psalmist could be his:

The cords of death encompassed me;
    the torrents of perdition assailed me;
the cords of Sheol entangled me;
    the snares of death confronted me. (Ps. 18:4–5)

Just prior to Gethsemane, Jesus had washed the feet of his disciples, signaled by the water bowl and draped cloth to his left. This action embodied his ethic of humble service and love. But one of the Twelve whom he washed betrayed him into the hands of his enemies. The blood-red color of the bowl is striking in this work that is otherwise just beige and gray, drawing our focus to the messianic model that God’s people, in demanding the crucifixion of the one God had sent (or abandoning him in his final hours), by and large rejected.

Christ is isolated in this work; no other figures are present, emphasizing the aloneness Christ felt in Gethsemane and on the cross. There’s not even a background—just a void that suggests the indeterminate space between life and death. By using Christ’s crucified form but titling the work Gethsemane, Faller-Barris collapses together Christ’s prayer on the Mount of Olives and his prayers at Calvary, both of which express an admixture of agony and surrender.

LISTEN: “In Passione positus Iesus” from De Passione D.N. Iesu Christi by Francisco Guerrero, 1555 | Performed by the Gesualdo Six, dir. Owain Park, 2021

In passione positus Jesus, cum pro nobis oblatus est,
tremens ait: tristis est anima mea usque ad mortem vigilate mecum.
Et factus est in agonia orabat dicens:
Pater mi, si possibile est, transeat a me calix iste
et clamans in cruce dicens:

Deus, Deus meus ut quid dereliquisti me in manus tuas Domine
commendo Spiritum meum consummatum est.

English translation:

In his Passion, Jesus, when sacrificed for us,
cried out, trembling: “My soul is sad unto death.
Watch with me.” And in his agony, pleading, he said:
“My Father, if it is possible, take this cup from me.”

“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?
Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit. It is finished.”

This sacred motet for five voices is by the Spanish Renaissance composer Francisco Guerrero. Written for Passiontide (the final two weeks of Lent), it quotes some of Jesus’s words from the garden of Gethsemane the night of his arrest, and then three of his seven sayings from the cross. Download the sheet music here.

Holy Week: “Unless a grain of wheat falls…”

The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.

—John 12:23–24

Jesus spoke these words after his entry into Jerusalem to the acclamation of throngs, and then proceeded to prophesy his own death.

LOOK: Wheat Field by Ben Shahn

Shahn, Ben_Wheat Field
Ben Shahn (American, 1898–1969), Wheat Field, 1958. Photolithograph, 16 × 25 1/2 in. (40.7 × 64.7 cm).

LISTEN: “Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls” by Joshua Stamper, on PRIMEMOVER (2021)

This piece for violin and piano was commissioned by City Church Philadelphia (now Resurrection Philadelphia), where it premiered in March 2019. The recording features David Danel on violin and Bethany Danel Brooks on piano.

(Related post: https://artandtheology.org/2020/04/06/holy-tuesday-artful-devotion/)