Gospel truth wrapped in suffering

As a painter and educator, I am always on the lookout for examples of how art and theology, faith and imagination, combine in unique ways to fulfill our calling to serve Christ in the visual arts. The Isenheim Altarpiece by Matthias Grünewald (d. 1528) is a wonderful example. Grünewald painted the monumental altarpiece for a quarantine hospital at the Monastery of St. Anthony in Isenheim, and it now resides in the Unterlinden Museum in Colmar, France.

The monastery hospital was a place of sadness and loss that housed sufferers from “Saint Anthony’s Fire”—a disease leading to psychosis and hallucinations characterized by gangrene in the extremities, which often resulted in amputation. Those afflicted found themselves quarantined because the illness was mistakenly believed to be contagious. In fact, it was a form of ergotism caused by prolonged ingestion of stale rye bread infected with a poisonous fungus.

Grünewald, with great compassion and empathy, made the central figure of the outer (closed) altarpiece a ghastly suffering crucified Christ—with skin resembling the greenish infected flesh of the hospital’s occupants—giving them an image of one who could fully identify with their illness and distress. Surrounding the dying Jesus are familiar mourners: the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene, the Apostle John, and John the Baptizer. The outer panels depict historic saints: Anthony (the monastery and hospital’s namesake) who suffered tormenting visions of demonic torture and the martyr Sebastian who was himself afflicted with great pain in his flesh when his fellow Roman soldiers pierced him with arrows for bearing witness to Christ. Below, in the predella, is a scene of the entombment of the dead Christ.

Altarpiece with panels open Unterlinden Museum, Colmar

Opening the altarpiece reveals a beautiful set of scenes from the Incarnation: the Annunciation by the Archangel Gabriel to Mary in the left-hand panel; the Nativity in the central panel, complete with rejoicing angels and heavenly music; and a glorious Resurrection scene on the right—unique in European art history.

The thing to keep in mind when “reading” the altarpiece is that it is impossible to get to the inner treasure of glory and splendor in the Nativity and Resurrection without first encountering the crucified, dying, and buried Christ. Moreover, to open the altarpiece, you must cut off the right arm of the Crucified—because the figure is painted in such a position that the left door of the altarpiece runs through Christ’s arm—severing it as you open to the beauty within. Grünewald’s message to the amputees is that Jesus identifies with them in their loss and pain and that their suffering has its end in the transfiguration of heavenly glory.

Not only does this remarkable work reveal the glory of the gospel through surprising depictions of sacrifice contrasted with the jewel-like beauty of the inner altarpiece, but these powerful images also inspired countless artists in succeeding generations.

American novelist Flannery O’Connor once indicated there is a need for graphic, even startling depictions of Christ’s suffering in order to shake loose the tight denial of a thoroughgoing secularism.

O’Connor, like Grünewald, has inspired many believing artists in the past half-century who have attempted to show that the Biblical story can still inspire significant art. Many painters of my own acquaintance have directly ­benefited by studying the altarpiece and have followed Grünewald’s compassionate but stark portrayal of suffering. Edward Knippers, Theodore Prescott, Sandra Bowden, Melissa Weinman, Jerome Witkin, and many other contemporary Christian artists (including yours truly) have drawn heavily from this great work and its revelation of beauty in the midst of suffering.

As the Apostle Paul wrote memorably in his second letter to the church at Corinth: “And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Tradition is a living legacy—one that extends and develops itself through us in the present into an unknown future that is nevertheless overseen and guided by the divine love and radical human identification of the living Lord Jesus Christ. He knows our sadness and loss and calls us to a bright and glorious future in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.

—Bruce Herman is a painter, writer, and speaker who has exhibited nationally and internationally for over 50 years. He is professor of art (retired) and founder of the art department at Gordon College.