The Gospel accounts of Jesus’ resurrection are considered by exegetes to be among the last to have been written, perhaps because this event was lived out in the liturgy rather than in books. In fact, it is believed that these accounts were written, unlike the Passion, for the purpose of catechesis and not as a chronicle, which explains the differences, if not the discrepancies, between the four evangelists. In any case, these stories originate from “facts”, such as the empty tomb and the manifestations of the Risen One to his own (and not to others) which, analyzed in the framework of Semitic culture, are anything but hallucinations.
Beyond exegetical and historical studies, I wonder how Christians have conceived the resurrection of Christ in the course of history and, in particular, how art has depicted it. I leave out the popular images inspired by a century of films that tend to exploit the most cinematic Gospel story, that of Matthew, with sleeping Roman guards, bought lies, earthquakes and dazzling angels.
Remaining in the field of visual arts, we find that the first representations of the resurrection belong to the sixth century, due to the legacy of Jewish iconoclasm. These are not very elaborate images, inspired by Matthew’s story, in which the empty tomb merges with the appearance of the Risen One in the presence of terrified guards, frightened women and triumphant angels, combining several episodes in a single scene. Medieval art emphasizes the moment when Christ emerges from the tomb (a medieval tomb, of course) with one leg in and one out.
Already at the beginning of the fourteenth century, Giotto depicts the resurrection in a more succinct, but artistically better realized way: on the left (following Matthew) the angels, the sleeping guards and the empty tomb, and on the right the Johannine scene of Mary Magdalene at the feet of Jesus (Noli me tangere – Don’t hold me back). Jesus brandishes, instead of the cross, the Constantinian banner (labarum) of victory.
Moving on to the Renaissance, Fray Angelico (1455) introduces a theological interpretation into the scene, projecting the image of Christ on the wall of the cave, without the women, bewitched by the observation of the empty tomb, noticing his presence, despite the angel trying in vain to straighten their gaze. A few years later, Piero della Francesca reduced the scene to the victorious Christ who rested one foot on the tomb, in front of the guards absorbed in a deep sleep. In turn, a teenager Raphael Sanzio indulges in some licenses, such as showing the levitating Christ, the awake guards and the women who watch in amazement from afar.
In the seventeenth century Baroque, El Greco and Rubens interpreted, with their peculiar style, the event, without adding anything new. Later, Bartolomé Murillo, in contravention of a provision of the Council of Trent, again depicts the Risen One levitating on frightened soldiers.
After centuries of hiatus from sacred art, at the end of the nineteenth century, Eugene Burnand painted what is perhaps the most beautiful interpretation of the event, with “The Race of Peter and John to the Empty Tomb”.
In short, compared to the Passion, the representation of the Resurrection has always represented a challenge for great artists, the same as for simple believers, whose conception of the glorious body of the Risen One is based more on faith than on imagination.
Precisely, in order not to abuse the reader’s imagination, I have inserted the following link to accompany the reading with the commented images:
https://1drv.ms/p/c/0488b39ac69ad0c2/EeaosoSvDg9Cn_4Fc2IJAxEB13915Yv4X0tWCT1JmOppdA