Beholding Salvation

"What Beholdest Thou?"

When the Book of Mormon prophet Nephi saw his vision of the life of the Savior, the angel asked him not only to look, but to "Behold the Lamb of God, yea, even the Son of the Eternal Father!" (1 Nephi 11:21). Beholding requires more than merely looking; it involves considering and pondering, understanding and interpreting, receiving knowledge and holding in remembrance.

Likewise, viewing religious works of art calls for more than simply recognizing familiar figures, places, and narratives; it entails beholding true principles, profound doctrines, and veiled meanings. We invite you to look, to read, to ponder, and above all—to behold Salvation.

Transcending Doctrines, Finding Meaning

Many of the works in this exhibition were produced by European artists working in former times under the auspices of the Catholic Church, a powerful patron of the arts for many centuries. Others were created to advance the teachings of Protestant Reformers. Still others are the result of modern-day revelation.

Regardless of the specific tenets that these artworks were originally intended to express, personal meaning can be ascribed to these images, thus transcending doctrinal differences. While viewing these works, we invite you to engage in a search for that which is uplifting, truthful, and meaningful. By doing so, we hope that you will be edified and inspired to greater devotion in much the same way that previous generations of faithful observers gained a heightened reverence for the Savior and His ministry.

Reminders of Faith

Religious images have a long tradition in the history of Christianity. Whether as stained glass or mosaics, frescoes or painted statues, representations of Christ and the saints have adorned the interiors of Christian churches for centuries. Martin Luther observed that as the faithful gathered before an altar for services or knelt alone to pray, these images were "constantly in view and thus encourage[d] fear and faith toward God."

For many years, scholars thought these depictions of prophets and martyrs functioned as books for the illiterate, visually narrating the stories. However, recent scholarship suggests that these images also served as reminders and guides for the literate, prompting meditation as they viewed the history of salvation laid out in gold leaf, paint, or glass. The Venerable Bede, an 8th-century monk from the monastery of Wearmouth-Jarrow, asserted that these images could "recall to the memory of the faithful" the sacred events and teachings of the scriptures. Theologians eventually embraced both of these functions—to educate and to remind—as justification for the use of religious images in facilitating spiritual enlightenment.

Involving the Viewer

In depicting sacred subjects, artists past and present have incorporated various methods and conventions to engage the viewer. The use of symbolism, for instance, lends additional meaning to the artwork and to the mind of the prepared viewer. Objects such as lilies, an enclosed garden, or spindles may denote the purity and piety of Mary, whereas a vine, a lamb, or a white cloth may reference the Savior.

At other times the nature or function of the artwork encouraged the viewer's active participation. Prayer books containing selections of psalms, prayers, and illustrations fostered daily devotion and personal study of the scriptures. Small panel paintings known as icons were considered holy objects that encouraged the veneration of Christ and other religious figures. Altarpieces facilitated public worship by providing a focus for congregational meditation during church services.

Artists also used compositional elements to capture the attention of the audience and draw them into the sacred scene. Often an unoccupied space in the painting allows the viewer to figuratively enter into the hallowed event. Diagonal lines leading to a focal point or figure may direct the gaze of the observer to the subject matter or theme of the artwork. At times the illusionistic space in a painting appears to extend beyond the canvas, encompassing the viewer. These compelling conventions, along with many others, served to heighten the beholder's involvement and emotive experience.

The Word Made Flesh

Nativity scenes abound in Christian art because they testify of the condescension of God in taking upon Himself a mortal body. His humanity and physical body were essential because they were the instruments through which His atoning sacrifice was fulfilled. To emphasize Christ's mortality in nativity scenes, artists often depicted the Baby Jesus as unclothed to proclaim that this Infant was "the Word ... made flesh" (John 1:14).

To further underscore Christ's mortality, artists sometimes included subtle yet profound allusions to His death in nativity scenes. Frequently the Christ Child lies on an altar-like manger, suggesting His future sacrifice. White sheets surrounding the newborn Babe anticipate the burial shroud in which the Savior would be wrapped after His death. In Eustache Le Sueur's Adoration of the Shepherds, Mary's gaze captures the viewer's attention as she displays the Christ Child against the backdrop of the cloth, foreshadowing Lamentation scenes in which the dead Christ is presented for solemn devotion.

The Nativity

Ruined buildings and animals are among the commonplace objects that assume symbolic significance in nativity scenes. Dilapidated shelters or broken columns suggest the demise of the Mosaic Law, whereas the Holy Infant depicted in humble surroundings signals the advent of the New Law.

The presence of the ox and the ass in these scenes was first introduced by the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew. Their inclusion refers to the scripture, "The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel doth not know [its Lord]" (Isaiah 1:3). The shepherds, who also appear in these scenes, kneel in reverence before the small Babe. They often bring a lamb, not only as a symbol of their livelihood, but also as an emblematic gift for the Lamb of God.

Why are there so many images of Mary?

Second only to the image of Christ, Mary's likeness dominates pre-Reformation Christian art. Yet references to her in the New Testament are limited to only a few events such as the Annunciation, Visitation, Nativity, and Crucifixion. So why, when she receives relatively little scriptural mention, is Mary's image so prolific in art?

For one reason, Mary's image testifies of the doctrine of the Incarnation, which declares that the divine Christ took upon Himself the physical nature and form of a mortal man. Mary's prominence in Christian art establishes her as the chosen vessel through which "the Word was made flesh" (John 1:14).

Mary's prevalence in art also stems from her vital role in Catholic and Eastern Orthodox theology. These two faiths consider her to be the most powerful of all intercessors with Christ. Amplified by tradition and apocryphal texts, she also became known as the Queen of Heaven, symbolized by a crown and a blue mantle over a red gown. In addition, Mary acted as a metaphor for the Christian Church. In Mater Amabilis ("Mother of Maternal Love") images, the tender affection between the Infant Jesus and His mother alludes to the loving relationship between Christ and the Church. Another type of Marian image, the Virgo Lactans, depicts Mary suckling the Baby Jesus, emphasizing His mortal nature through the dependence on His mother for sustenance.

Joseph the Guardian

Because of Mary's prominence in art, her image often overshadowed the figure of Joseph, who was unfavorably rendered as an elderly, bearded man. Joseph was often pushed to the background of compositions or portrayed smaller in scale than Mary. At other times, he was positioned outside the walls that enclose Mary and Jesus, excluding him from the familial scene and further diminishing his importance.

These artistic conventions underscored the doctrine that Joseph was not the mortal father of Jesus. It was not until the early 15th century that Joseph's status as the guardian of Jesus was appreciated, resulting in images that portrayed him as a more vigorous and involved step-father.

"Born of Water and of the Spirit"

The history of changing baptismal practices is well documented in art. Some early depictions of Christ's baptism, as in the 10th-century Codex Etschmiadzin, show Him unclothed and standing in the chest-high water of the Jordan River, indicating His baptism by immersion. Immersion continued as a common form of baptism until ca. 12th century when it was superseded by other forms such as affusion or aspersion (pouring on or sprinkling of water). Thus, by the Renaissance, Christ was most often portrayed wearing a loincloth and standing ankle-deep in the river while John the Baptist, in his traditional camel-hair raiment, was situated on the bank, pouring water over Jesus' head with a cup or shell.

Baptismal scenes also include references to the other members of the Godhead. Some early images depicted a hand emerging from an opening in the heavens symbolizing the presence of God the Father. By the end of the 12th century, the hand was replaced by the figure of God. The dove descending upon Christ from heaven represented the Holy Spirit. In several works, the dove holds an olive branch or a vial of consecrated oil with which He anoints the head of Christ to symbolize the bestowal of the Holy Ghost.

Distinguishing Disciples

How do we distinguish Peter from Paul in a work that depicts multiple apostles? In order to identify each disciple, artists developed specific motifs or attributes to differentiate between these religious figures. For instance, Peter is usually depicted as an elderly, bearded man with a tonsure of white hair, clothed in a blue or green robe with a gold mantle. He holds two keys symbolizing the priesthood power to bind on earth and in heaven. The Apostle Paul is portrayed as a brown-bearded man holding a sword, the instrument of his martyrdom. John the Beloved is easily recognized by his clean-shaven face and long hair. In images of the Last Supper he is usually seated next to Christ with his head resting on Jesus' breast as described in John 13:23.

Characterized by his dark hair and beard, Judas often holds a purse, referring to his stewardship over the Apostles' communal monies or alluding to his betrayal of Christ for thirty pieces of silver. Mary Magdalene, unfavorably regarded as a penitent prostitute and traditionally believed to be the woman who washed Jesus' feet, is shown with long, flowing tresses and an alabaster jar of ointment.

Attributes were also assigned to each of the four Evangelists. Matthew is often shown writing his Gospel at a desk, inspired by a winged man or angel. Mark is accompanied by a winged lion because his Gospel emphasizes the royal nature of Christ—"the lion to the house of Judah" (Hosea 5:14). The ox, an animal sacrificed as a peace offering, is associated with Luke because his Gospel begins with a sacrificial ordinance in the temple. John is represented by an eagle, a symbol for the divine inspiration by which he wrote the Book of Revelation.

Icons: Aids to Worship or Idols?

Icons, small tempera paintings on wooden panels depicting Christ or the saints, have been a major presence in the Eastern Orthodox Church since the 2nd century. Regarded as a sacred object, an icon acted as a mystical window through which the worshipper communicated with God. Iconophiles (those who used icons) denied that they worshipped the painted panel itself but claimed rather that it created a portal through which their devotions could be transferred to Christ and the saints. They also ascribed miraculous powers to these icons such as forgiving sins, healing infirmities, or bringing victory in battle.

Because of the great veneration given to icons, the fear of idolatry arose among iconoclasts (those who opposed the use of icons). This led to Emperor Leo III's iconoclastic decree in 726, ordering the destruction of all images depicting holy beings in human form. It took more than a century before Iconoclasm officially ended, and sacred images were reinstated. Icons once again became sanctioned instruments for uniting men with God.

Daily Devotion

Daily prayer and pondering the words of the scriptures were encouraged and popularized during the Middle Ages. Illustrated liturgical texts such as Psalters, Gospels, and Books of Hours facilitated meditation and introspection among the clergy and laity. A Book of Hours, for example, was a personal prayer book containing scriptural passages, images, and specific prayers to be said during different hours of the day. By faithfully reciting these prescribed prayers, believers thought their time spent in purgatory could be shortened. In some instances, worshippers meditated on an image of Christ while repeating a prayer over and over to obtain absolution from their sins. Considered physical manifestations of an individual's piety, these devotional books helped worshippers focus their thoughts on the Savior.

With the advent of the printing press around 1445, Books of Hours could be produced in large quantities, making inexpensive copies available to the middle classes. The more exquisitely ornamented books, however, continued to be reserved exclusively for royalty and the aristocracy. Often painted with brilliant colors and embellished with precious gold or silver leaf, these richly decorated folios emphasize the treasured and sacred nature of prayer books.

The Passion

The sufferings of the Savior between the night of the Last Supper and His entombment are commonly referred to as the Passion of Christ (Acts 1:3). This term comes from the Latin word passio, meaning suffering or submission—two befitting definitions for the atoning sacrifice of the Savior.

The Book of Mormon prophet-historian Mormon counseled that the Passion, or Christ's "sufferings and death," is among those things which should "rest in [our] mind[s] forever" (Moroni 9:25). President Gordon B. Hinckley of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints echoed this sentiment:

[No one] must ever forget the terrible price paid by our Redeemer, who gave His life that all men might live—the agony of Gethsemane, the bitter mockery of His trial, the vicious crown of thorns tearing at His flesh, the blood cry of the mob before Pilate, the lonely burden of His heavy walk along the way to Calvary, the terrifying pain as great nails pierced His hands and feet, the fevered torture of His body as He hung that tragic day....

We cannot forget that. We must never forget it, for here our Savior, our Redeemer, the Son of God, gave Himself a vicarious sacrifice for each of us. (Ensign, April 2005, 4)

The Triumphant Christ

Christ's resurrection became a prominent focus in artistic representation by the late Middle Ages. In the majority of these images, Christ stands upright in the tomb or on the lid of a sarcophagus, clothed in a billowing white burial garment. He often gives a gesture of blessing and holds a banner of a red cross on a white cloth, symbolic of His triumph over death. The guards at the tomb are seen in varying degrees of attentiveness; some sleep, unaware of the miraculous resurrection, while others cower in fear at the appearance of the angels.

Master of Apollo and Daphne (active 16th century)

The Annunciation, early 16th century
Oil on panel
Gift of Mr. Val A. Browning, from the Permanent Collection of the Utah Museum of Fine Arts

Heralding the genesis of the Christian drama, the angel Gabriel's announcement to Mary proclaims that she has been chosen as the mother of the Messiah. This Annunciation scene, portrayed in a domestic interior, figuratively separates the sacred event from the secular world. Mary has removed the shoes from her feet, further signifying that this quiet bedchamber has become hallowed ground as a result of the angelic visitation. It is in this sacred space of the home that Mary humbly accepts the will of God: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word" (Luke 1:38).

According to the tradition popularized by St. Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux (1090–1153), Mary is posed at her lectern reading Isaiah's Messianic prophecy declaring that Christ would be born of a virgin. Interrupting her study, Gabriel kneels in deference and presents her with white lilies, a symbol of her purity. Accompanying the angelic visitor, a dove descends on rays of light that emanate from God the Father. This suggests the moment when Gabriel announced to Mary: "The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee" (Luke 1:35). The ray of light, as St. Bernard taught, depicts the early Christian dogma that Mary could conceive the Christ Child and still remain a virgin: just as a shaft of light passes through a window without breaking it, so could Mary be with child without losing her virginity.

John Rogers Herbert, R.A. (1810–1890)

Our Savior Subject to His Parents at Nazareth, 1860
Oil on canvas
Brigham Young University Museum of Art, purchased with funds provided by Jack R. and Mary Lois Wheatley

Other than a few brief asides recorded in the Gospel of Luke, not many scriptural references exist that describe Jesus' infancy and childhood. To visualize the youthful Savior's life, artists often concentrated on singular scriptural details for inspiration. References to Jesus as the "carpenter's son" (Matthew 13:55) inspired this painting by John Rogers Herbert.

The artist also includes symbolic references to other events in Christ's life. The two birds near the doorway likely refer to the "pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons" offered as a sacrifice when the forty-day-old Jesus was presented at the temple (Luke 2:24). Jesus holds a flat winnowing basket suggesting the sifting of wheat from the chaff. The red jug in the lower left anticipates the miracle of turning water into wine. Mary holds a spindle, a Byzantine motif inspired by the apocryphal story of the young Virgin spinning thread for the veil of the temple in Jerusalem, the same veil that would rend at the moment of Christ's death on Calvary. Mary interrupts her task to gaze pensively at her Son as He looks at the cross formed by the wood scraps that foreshadows His crucifixion.

Herbert, like many late 19th-century artists, traveled to the Holy Land to record authentic surroundings in which to portray non-idealized depictions of Christ. Such topographical authenticity, combined with precise details of clothing and architecture, made sacred events more plausible, thus leading the viewer to believe in the reality of Jesus' life.

Sir Edward John Poynter, P.R.A. (1836–1919)

The Prodigal's Return, 1869
Oil on canvas
Brigham Young University Museum of Art, purchased with funds provided by Ira A. and Mary Lou Fulton

Symbolizing the Protestant emphasis on God's grace and mercy for the repentant sinner, this painting captures the tender relationship between a father and his son. The richly embroidered hem of the son's tattered garment speaks of the status he once enjoyed in his father's household. Humbled by his impoverished condition, the penitent son looks away, overcome with shame and remorse, as his father draws him near in a redeeming embrace. The contrite spirit of the son and the compassionate affection of the father combine in a moment of sweet reconciliation where the two figures merge into one, focusing on the singular message of repentance and forgiveness.

Circle of Rembrandt (ca. 1650)

Head of Christ, 17th century
Oil on panel
Brigham Young University Museum of Art, gift of Vivian Vicondo

Rembrandt's renowned ability to illuminate the soul of his subject is echoed in this painting by an unknown artist who was directly associated with Rembrandt and his studio. The soft, luminous glow of light in the background enhances the powerful concentrations of warm light on Christ's face. Characteristic of Rembrandt's own paintings, this light infuses life into the figure, creating a personal, intimate, portrait-like depiction of the Savior. The light works as a metaphor for holiness, loving-kindness and salvation, inviting viewers to contemplate the divine nature and mission of the Son of God.

Carl Heinrich Bloch (1834–1890)

Christ Healing the Sick at Bethesda, 1883
Oil on canvas
Brigham Young University Museum of Art, purchased with funds provided by Jack R. and Mary Lois Wheatley

In addition to depicting one of Christ's miracles, this altarpiece uses artistic conventions that seek to involve the viewer. For instance, the curved steps surrounding the pool appear to extend beyond the canvas, including the viewer in the miraculous proceeding.

Light and darkness also engage spectators by emphasizing a particular event or figure in the scene. Although the infirm man who receives Christ's healing command is the object of the scriptural account, he lies hidden in shadow beneath the coarse canopy. Instead the light rests upon two other figures—Christ and the red-turbaned man. It is understandable that Christ, the divine Healer, would be illuminated, but the equal prominence given to the turbaned man raises questions. Why does he stare? What does he symbolize? What is his relationship to the viewer?

Perhaps the man's piercing gaze is meant to thwart others who would enter the pool before him, or perhaps he is pleading for assistance. Either unaware or skeptical of Jesus' power to heal, he continues to wait for the waters to move, suggesting man's inclination to trust in superstitions rather than in Christ. Whatever his motives, his confrontational expression solicits an emotional response and acknowledges the onlooker as a participant in the story.

Minerva K. Teichert (1888–1976)

Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes, 1944
Oil on canvas
Collection of Salt Lake City School District

Typical compositions depicting this wondrous event often view it from afar, attempting to encompass the entire multitude in order to convey the magnitude of the miracle of feeding the five thousand (John 6:5–14). Teichert, however, concentrates on the single lad who offers to Christ his five barley loaves and two small fishes. By narrowing the scene to just two figures, Teichert portrays the intimacy of the miracle—Christ's interaction with the one.

Last Supper, from the Gospel Harmony of Eusebius (f. 32), ca. 1050

Illuminated manuscript facsimile (1991–92)
Rare Books Division, Special Collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah

The Last Supper institutes the observance of the sacrament (Eucharist), or the partaking of the bread and wine as prescribed by Jesus in Matthew 26:26–28. This event would traditionally portray a paschal lamb on the table since it took place at the Passover meal. In this scene, however, the lamb has been substituted with fish, the early Christian symbol of Christ. The Greek word for fish, ichthys, was an acronym for Iesus Christos Theou Yios Soter (Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior).

Last Supper, from Das Turin-Maïlander Stundenbuch (f. 90), ca. 1389

Illuminated manuscript facsimile (1994)
Rare Books Division, Special Collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah

The Last Supper instituted the observance of the sacrament (Eucharist), or the partaking of the bread and wine as prescribed by Jesus in Matthew 26:26–28. Interpreting this scripture in 1215, the Catholic Church initiated the doctrine of transubstantiation, which taught that the bread and wine of the Eucharist were literally transformed into Christ's flesh and blood. Symbolically illustrating this doctrine, a crucifix is imprinted on each wafer in this scene from Das Turin-Maïlander manuscript. Here the paschal lamb displayed on a serving dish in the center of the table not only marks this as the Passover meal, but also prefigures Christ's atoning sacrifice as the Lamb of God.

Below the main image, a procession of worshippers receives the Eucharist from a priest. This lower scene solidified the connection in viewers' minds between the Christ-instituted ordinance and their own participation in the Mass.

Mount Olive, Flagellation, and Way of the Cross, from Das Turin-Maïlander Stundenbuch (f. 30v), ca. 1389

Illuminated manuscript facsimile (1994)
Rare Books Division, Special Collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah

By the time of the Renaissance, traditional conventions had been established for depicting Christ's prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. Christ is often shown on or beside a rock formation, perhaps referencing Him as "the rock of our salvation" (Psalm 95:1). Adhering to scriptural accounts, He either lies prostrate on the ground or kneels in earnest prayer while sweating great drops of blood (Matthew 26:39; Luke 22:41). At times, a chalice is placed on the ground in front of Him, alluding to His entreaty to the Father, "If thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done" (Luke 22:42). At other times, an angel brings the chalice or the cross to Jesus, offering Him "the dregs of a bitter cup" (Alma 40:26). Peter, James, and John sleep in the foreground. In the distance, a band of soldiers and men commissioned by the chief priests approaches, carrying torches, weapons, and staves.

Mount Olive, from Le Livre d'Heures aux Fleurs (f. 16v), 1516

Illuminated manuscript facsimile (1991)
Rare Books Division, Special Collections, J. Willard Marriott Library, University of Utah

By the time of the Renaissance, traditional conventions had been established for depicting Christ's prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. Christ is often shown on or beside a rock formation, perhaps referencing Him as "the rock of our salvation" (Psalm 95:1). Adhering to scriptural accounts He either lies prostrate on the ground or kneels in earnest prayer while sweating great drops of blood (Matthew 26:39; Luke 22:41). At times, a chalice is placed on the ground in front of Him, alluding to His entreaty to the Father, "If thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done" (Luke 22:42). At other times, an angel brings the chalice or the cross to Jesus, offering Him "the dregs of a bitter cup" (Alma 40:26). Peter, James, and John sleep in the foreground. In the distance, a band of soldiers and men commissioned by the chief priests approaches, carrying torches, weapons, and staves.

Bernard Sleigh (1872–1954)

The Crucifixion—A Triptych, 1906
Oil on canvas

Brigham Young University Museum of Art, purchased with funds provided by the Campbell Family Foundation and Verla Birrell

The inscription at the head of the cross, "THE LORD HATH LAID ON HIM THE INIQUITY OF US ALL," made this altarpiece particularly poignant for its viewers—inmates of London's Holloway Prison. Cognizant of this audience, Sleigh includes a man in chains at the foot of the cross who pleads for forgiveness and mercy. Standing immediately to the right of the prisoner, the artist appears as a shepherd, most likely referring to the role of the shepherds at Christ's birth and also to the artist's own Welsh ancestors, who were shepherds for many generations. The artist's wife, Stella, and their two young children are also pictured in contemporary clothing on the far right panel as participants in the worship of the crucified Christ. By including himself and his family in the painting, the artist invites viewers to do likewise and place themselves within the context of the scene.

Sleigh also incorporates four symbolic figures, representing four pillars of society: a knight (military), a judge (law), a king (government), and a bishop (religion). Each bows his head or knee to the Savior, offering up an emblem of his earthly power and authority. The knight holds out a broken sword, symbolic of the end of all war (Isaiah 2:4). The torn scroll placed before the judge and the removed crown of the king signify Christ as the new Judge, Lawgiver, and King (Isaiah 33:22). The bishop too removes his miter and lowers his crosier, submitting to the supreme "Bishop of [our] souls" (1 Peter 2:25). By transforming the Crucifixion into a contemporary event and representing a cross-section of humankind, this triptych engages the viewer in an intimate manner.

Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528)

Man of Sorrows, from the Engraved Passion, 1509
Engraving

Private collection of Shawn and Andrea Merriman

This engraving exemplifies an image type called the Suffering Christ or Man of Sorrows in which the Savior, surrounded by the instruments of the Passion, displays the wounds of the Crucifixion. These pictorial representations were developed from the Catholic doctrine of "Perpetual Passion," an idea popularized in the 14th and 15th centuries which affirmed man's culpability in the eternal suffering of Christ. These brutal images were intended to elicit strong feelings of remorse on the part of the sinner, to stir up guilt, and to be a deterrent to further transgressions.

In this work, Christ confronts the viewer as He displays the gaping wounds in His hands and feet. He stands next to the column to which He was supposedly bound at His scourging. Mary and the beloved apostle John stand below as examples of humble worshippers, pained at the suffering of the Savior. The visual message is a plea to the viewer to cease from the sins that cause Christ to suffer anew.

Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528)

Title Page: The Mocking of Christ, from the Large Passion, 1511
Woodcut

Brigham Young University Museum of Art, purchase/gift from Mahonri M. Young Estate

This woodcut exemplifies an image type called the Suffering Christ or Man of Sorrows in which the Savior, surrounded by the instruments of the Passion, displays the wounds of the Crucifixion. These pictorial representations were developed from the Catholic doctrine of "Perpetual Passion," an idea popularized in the 14th and 15th centuries which affirmed man's culpability in the eternal suffering of Christ. These brutal images were intended to elicit strong feelings of remorse on the part of the sinner, to stir up guilt, and to be a deterrent to further transgressions.

In this work, Christ confronts the viewer as He displays the wounds in His hands and feet while seated on the lid of a sepulcher. This visual message was originally supplemented with the following devotional poem in which He appeals to the viewer to cease from the sins that cause Him to suffer anew:

These cruel wounds I bear for thee, O man,
And cure thy mortal sickness with my blood.
I take away thy sores with mine, thy death
With mine – a God Who changed to man for thee.
But thou, ingrate, still stabb'st my wounds with sins;
I still take floggings for thy guilty acts.
It should have been enough to suffer once
From hostile Jews; now, friend, let there be peace!

Workshop of Simon Vouet (16th century)

Lamentation, ca. 1630–1635
Oil on canvas

Although not mentioned in the Gospels, the subject of the Lamentation became a popular devotional image during the Middle Ages. These scenes focused on the mourning of Mary, the disciples, and angels after Christ's deposition from the cross. Artists particularly emphasized the anguish and sorrow of the Virgin to represent the fulfillment of Simeon's prophecy to Mary that "a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also" (Luke 2:35).

Anonymous

Dead Christ (from an Entombment group), ca. 15th century
Wood

Brigham Young University Museum of Art, gift of Gloria Teichert

This nearly life-size sculpture of the dead Christ originally formed the center of an entombment group, which would have included statues of Jesus' mother, John the Beloved, and other grief-stricken followers who witnessed Christ's interment in the sepulcher.

Like many other 15th-century German wood sculptures, this work was originally painted in naturalistic colors. These entombment groups were often placed in a dark side chapel where flickering candle light evoked the dim interior of a tomb. In this sacred space, a worshipper could join the carved saints and apostles in weeping over the broken body of the Lord, experiencing vicariously the bleak hours between the death and resurrection of the Savior.

Anonymous

The Descent into Limbo (after Andrea Mantegna), ca. 1497
Oil on panel

The Sarah Campbell Blaffer Foundation

Based on the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, images of the Anastasis describe the time between Christ's death and resurrection, when He descended into hell to release the prophets and the patriarchs of the Old Testament. Also known as the "Harrowing of Hell" or the "Descent into Limbo," the Anastasis narrative emphasized Christ's victory over death and the devil.

In this painting, Christ holds the staff of the Resurrection as He reaches out to liberate the righteous from their long abode in the transitory realm of Limbo. Adam and Eve, on the left, are generally the first to be rescued. These images testified that in "declaring liberty to the captives who had been faithful," Christ became the "Redeemer and Deliverer from death and the chains of hell" (Doctrine and Covenants 138:18, 23).

Minerva K. Teichert (1888–1976)

The First Vision, 1934
Oil on canvas

Brigham Young University Museum of Art

The restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ in "the dispensation of the fulness of times" (Ephesians 1:10) offers Latter-day Saint artists unique opportunities to testify of Christ. One such artist was Minerva Teichert. When given the mandate to tell "the Mormon story" by her teacher, American realist painter Robert Henri, she embarked on a fifty-year career, painting scriptural stories and scenes of the heroic Mormon pioneers.

Her large mural depicting the First Vision captures the moment when the Prophet Joseph Smith saw "two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above [him] in the air" (Joseph Smith—History 1:17). God the Father places His hand upon Jesus' shoulder in a tender, paternal gesture and introduces His Beloved Son to the young Joseph. Christ's outstretched hands reveal the wounds of His crucifixion.

Later, the Prophet would be visited by the angel Moroni, who would reveal to him the gold plates containing "a record of God's dealings with the ancient inhabitants of the Americas." Joseph translated these sacred writings and published them in 1830 as the Book of Mormon. Images of the gold plates and the Book of Mormon are found in the decorative border of the painting, emphasizing the importance of this book as another witness of Christ.

Ron Richmond (n. 1963)

Exchange No. 8, 2003–04
Oil on canvas

Brigham Young University Museum of Art, purchased with funds provided by Lew and Gail Burnham

In the 20th and 21st centuries, conceptual works have supplemented more traditional renderings of the Savior by focusing on His attributes, rather than on the narrative of His life. This type of art lends itself to abstract ideas, encouraging viewers to ponder the multiple levels of meaning vested in a work. Often signs and symbols replace the human form of Christ, as in this painting by Ron Richmond.

As you observe the chairs and cloths, reflect on the manifold roles of Christ as Advocate, Judge, Mediator, and Resurrected Savior. Consider the placement of the chairs and their relationship to each other. Contemplate the intense color of the draped fabric, which calls to mind the Messianic words: "though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow..." (Isaiah 1:18).

Circle of Artus Wolffort (ca. 17th century)

The Trinity, early 17th century
Oil on canvas

Brigham Young University Museum of Art, purchase/gift from Gloria Teichert

The traditional Christian doctrine of the Trinity, a canon that grew out of the discussions at the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD, teaches that the uncreated, infinite God manifests Himself in three persons. This painting elaborates on this concept by depicting three distinct beings, each revealing the various roles of God in the salvation of the world. Representing the Eternal Creator of the universe, God the Father wears the majestic vestments of a pope with a three-tiered tiara crowning His head. He holds the orb of the world surmounted by a cross, indicating His power over heaven and earth. As the Word made flesh, the Son gestures to the wounds of His crucifixion, testifying of the condescension of God in redeeming humanity. The Holy Ghost hovers above the Father and the Son in the form of a dove, emanating the renewing, revelatory light of the Spirit.

The composition and symbolism of the artwork suggests the belief in the mysterious unity that fuses the three beings into one substance. The Father rests his hand on the shoulder of his Son while the rays of light from the Holy Ghost set all three figures in a harmonious, golden glow. The rich brocade along the border of God the Father's cloak reinforces this metaphor by depicting three figures standing back-to-back, as if they were one personage.