It may be said that a medieval stained glass window, such as the Passion of Christ lancet at Chartres Cathedral (photo #1, click to enlarge), is like a vast page on which the artists (and the clerics who hired them) “wrote” stories from the Bible and lives of the saints. Instead of words, the artists used dozens of panels with colorful miniaturized images, similar to cartoons, to convey meaning and the essence of a story. For those who try to read a medieval stained glass “page” for the first time, one small challenge they face is trying to figure out where to start. Is the window like a page in a novel that we read from left to right, or do we read it from right to left like a Hebrew text?
The answer for most of the thirteenth century stained glass at Chartres and other Gothic Cathedrals is “bottom’s up.” We start at the bottom and work our way to the top, reading from left to right. It seems to be a convention that most medieval artists followed with some exceptions. I noticed one fascinating exception in a series of scenes from the life of Christ on an altarpiece at the Toledo Cathedral in Spain. Several panels appeared to be out of sequence until I noticed that they followed a figure eight pattern. I couldn’t help but smile. The artist had made a clever allusion to the symbol for infinity in the arrangement! But the main thing to keep in mind is that there’s a pattern to follow. Once you know that, it’s easier to “read” a medieval stained glass window.
Today’s photos deal with scenes from Christ’s Passion with an emphasis on the events of Maundy Thursday, including the Last Supper and Jesus’ agony in the Garden. I confess that I’ve had a hard time deciding what to omit from today’s post. Images of Christ’s Passion were common in the Middle Ages just as they are now. I’ve decided to start with Chartres Cathedral because its glass provided an important model that influenced other medieval artists, and artists in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries too. From Chartres, we’ll jump across the pond (and seven centuries) to visit a handful of American churches that are slightly off the beaten path in Albany, NY, Durham, NC and Grand Rapids, MI.
The “Passion of Christ Lancet” at Chartres comprises fourteen panels that lead off with scenes of Christ’s Transfiguration in the bottom row. The second row up (photo #2) portrays two Maundy Thursday events, the Last Supper and Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. We’ll dwell on this second row for a few moments, and return to some of the scenes above it in later posts.
The story of Jesus’ Last Supper with the disciples appears in all four canonical gospels, but the image at Chartres seems to derive from Luke’s gospel account. Look closely at the left panel in photo #2. You’ll see a man in the foreground with his arm on the table about to snatch a red fish from a plate. The fish is a symbol for Christ that has its origins in the acrostic the early Christians made by using ICHTHYS, the Greek word for fish. Loosely translated it means “Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior.” Luke’s gospel says nothing about fish being the main course for dinner at the Last Supper, but it does say this in chapter 22: “But behold the hand of him who betrays me is with me on the table.” The fish thief, of course, is Judas whose plot with local authorities will snare Jesus before the night is through.
John’s gospel is the source for the foot-washing scene on the right. The account reports that, “he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which he was girded.” Peter protested, asking why the Lord should wash his feet. Jesus replied enigmatically, “What I am doing you do not understand, but afterward you will understand.” The foot-washing tradition continues. In some Christian churches, bishops and other clergy will wash parishioners’ feet today.
The stained glass image of the Last Supper (photo #3, above) at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan dates from the mid-twentieth century and communicates the Last Supper’s sacramental aspect by showing Jesus holding a white host, standing behind a chalice on the table, surrounded by his prayerful disciples. The Last Supper window (photo #4, below) at Duke University Chapel takes a different approach by combining the last supper and foot washing scenes. Duke’s windows of Christ’s passion were designed with a unique monochrome style that, for some reason, reminds me of Spain.
After supper, Jesus went with his disciples to a garden called Gethsemane. There, according to Luke’s gospel, while his friends drifted off to sleep, he knelt down and prayed, “Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me; nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.” Shortly, a crowd led by Judas takes Jesus by force to the high priest for questioning. The gospels all to imply that Jesus is resolved to his fate by the time he is taken into custody. A roundel window at Chartres (photo #5) captures the chaotic arrest scene (on the left) in which Peter offered armed resistance, earning a rebuke from Jesus.
The Gethsemane window (photos #6 and 7) at Albany’s Immaculate Conception Cathedral offers a marked contrast in its grand pictorial style to the condensed panels at Chartres. But it is typical of nineteenth and early twentieth century windows that portray Christ’s agony in the garden. The disciples are conked out in the foreground. Peter’s right hand holds the sword he will use shortly to cut off Malchus’ ear. As the disciples sleep, an angel delivers a goblet with a bitter draft that answers Jesus’ agonized prayer.
The Gethsemane window at Duke’s Chapel (photo #8) shows Jesus in prayer as the mob arrives in the background at the door to the garden. The modern Gethsemane window (photo #9) at St. Mark’s in Grand Rapids captures the garden scene in a tight composition that’s reminiscent of the medieval style. Observe that a thinly drawn almond shape outlines the scene. This symbol, called a mandorla, is the space made by two intersecting circles. It has various meanings. One is that the mandorla is the intersection of two circles representing Christ’s human and divine natures.
Mike Klug, firstname.lastname@example.org, 4/17/14