Complexity and Contradiction in the Cross
Gillian Rose points out that two key strategies for the "interpretation of the rhetorical organization of discourse" are "paying attention to their complexity and contradictions" and "looking for the invisible as well as the visible" (220). In analyzing crucifixion imagery across Protestant and Catholic traditions these are the most crucial elements to tune into. Protestants and Catholics have a long and heated history that has left "extensive baggage" surrounding conflicting views about the reliance on religious imagery as a form of conveying devotion and performing faithfulness (Smith 707). Even within the Catholic tradition, where corporal portrayals of the crucifixion are most visible as visual objects, there is contradiction within how the Christ is displayed on the cross. These differences then result in mixed meaning making of the visual by the viewer.
The Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century was the beginning of the employment of anti-catholic sentiment where "the cross was 'not a symbol of redemption through the blessed Saviour, but a perverted, abused symbol of a great system of superstition and imposture.' The use of this symbol on Protestant churches not only tempted 'idolatry,' but it also confused religious loyalties." This harsh reaction expressed by Smith is not an overstatement or exaggeration, and it was not until the mid 1800s that the cross was deemed an acceptable expression of faith in the Protestant church when churches began to recognize the "appeal based on [Catholicism's] recognizable heritage and their promise of sensual access to sacred mysteries" (Smith 711). But even in this renewed acceptance of the cross, "the crucified Christ, especially in life size, [...] was generally perceived as unnecessarily morbid and graphic by Americans; the preference was always for the un-embodied symbol of the cross over the crucifix" (Promey 111-2).
In the Protestant church, the rhetoric of the crucifixion was established through hymns, prayers, sermons and the independent study of scripture. As a part of the Reformation, "the English produced a significant literature and molded theology totally by language, at the same time narrowing the horizons of visual perception. Seeing was not a mode of learning to be trusted in its own right" (Dillenberger 15). This theme was overwhelmingly communicated in my discourse analysis of imagery. The only Protestant imagery found of the crucifixion was in books or within the context of a visual narrative of Jesus' life, death and resurrection. Visuals of books were much more common in sanctuary stained-glass windows. For example, the Lois Perkins Chapel at Southwestern University displays eleven aisle stained-glass windows displaying fathers of the Protestantism and Methodism. Their commonality is not a cross, crucifix or a triune symbol, but rather a book, communicating that it is through education and learning that knowledge, understanding and clarity of suffering, pain and doubt are dealt with and resolved.
This is the antithesis of the approach to direct visual representation of the body of Christ in the Catholic Church. Upon entering every Catholic sanctuary I visited, the first and most striking image was a larger than life, usually freestanding, representation of Jesus hanging on the cross. The physical semiotics of these representations are meant to demand an overwhelming reaction from the viewer, though these readings differ from person to person based on "the appearance of the object, the words they [have] heard, the texts they [have] read, the lives they [have] led" (Lipton 1173). In a preliminary reading of the crucifix, after morphing the signifiers into signifieds, the viewer could conclude that a man, Jesus, is nailed to a cross with a crown of thorns placed on his head, clothed in a modified loincloth. The denotative understanding of his position, "one analogous to literal exegesis of Scripture, would say that the head leans because Jesus is dead or dying, that the arms are extended because they are nailed to the cross" (Lipton 1173). This meaning can hardly be disputed, but a 'second-order semiological' meaning, as classified by Barthes, of what Jesus' physical placement on the cross is what becomes complex (Rose 131). Sacred imagery, more than commercial/popular imagery, requires the viewer to "enter into a relation with the image in which they are expected to participate imaginatively, contributing what the image itself may not provide but must presuppose if it is to touch the viewer" (Morgan 75). Rose echoes this in her emphasis on the expectation that viewers will "depend on codes held by the particular group of consumers their markets want to sell their product to" (128). And although religion is not a commercial industry, the Catholic Church does follow a specific theology and doctrine that serves as a presupposed base, which is common to all viewers. It is through deeper meditation on and enacting given/expected understandings of the context of the image that one may "see in Christ's posture a nod and an embrace" and a "suffering but paradoxically powerful body" (Lipton 1175, Verdi 104). Individual readings allow "the very ugliness of the Passion" to be read conversely as a "spiritual force" that reveals "the glorious Christ that Christians seek" (Lipton 1186, 1185).
With this duality comes the twofold iconography of "Christus triumphans (triumphant Christ) and Christus patiens (suffering Christ)" (Verdi 105). Even in the Catholic tradition a more triumphant Christ is more likely to be found than a suffering Christ. Since the Renaissance era and the prevalence of classic Greek bodily ideals, "beauty of body, even on the Cross, was being used symbolically to demonstrate the powerlessness of evil against the forces of good" thus uniting the "comprehensive arch of Christ's life in one moment" where the crucifixion and the resurrection meet (Worley 41). Within the perspective of this discourse analysis, a crucifix found in a small chapel at St. John Vianney Catholic Church in Round Rock was the only image that depicted Jesus with even one gash in his side, and in all images his face was depicted as a model of grace and sensitivity, rather than suffering.

The strongest representation of Christus triumphans was in Lois Perkins Chapel. There are no realistic depictions of the crucifix in the chapel, but the center panel of the three stained-glass windows behind the chancel area of the sanctuary depicts Jesus, looking up and out with strength and power with his hands out, much like an embrace. This physical position, paired with the extended horizontal rays of his halo, create an illusion of Jesus on the cross. Without any element of suffering depicted, "with his head held high and his eyes open, alive and triumphant over death," a veiled representation of Jesus on the cross is deemed an acceptable form of visual devotion in the Protestant church.

Catholics and Protestants have very complex and sometimes contradictory views on visual imagery as an avenue for devotion. Within the Protestant traditions, it is important to note that the severe absence of any imagery of suffering communicates the emphasis of the doctrine on the grace of God, rather than ever-present existence of sin and doubt. The Catholic belief is that the crucifix can either communicate deep suffering, or the crucifix "can bring love and at least the beginnings of illumination to a person with steady and clear sight" (Lipton 1181). In the Catholic Church, the agency of the viewer to read an isolated image, such as Jesus on the cross, based on prior experience allows for this variation of interpretation. Whereas, the Protestant church makes sure to couch any image of perceived suffering within a narrative with a happy ending, so there is no doubt that the presence of Jesus is about life and not death. There will always be complexities and inconsistencies within imagery that relies on the experience, prior knowledge and maturity of the viewer to come to the conclusion of the preferred reading.
Home Page
Finding Identity in Icons