His Death Freed Us from Death

Giovanni Battista Tinti (1558–1617) was an Italian mannerist painter who settled in Parma. He was one of the artists who best understood and translated into their works the essential message of the Council of Trent (concluded in 1563).

The work that adorns the cover of this issue of Magnificat was not painted on canvas, nor on a wood panel, nor as a fresco, but rather on a panel of leather. It is in fact a banner produced by Tinti for the processions of the Confraternity of the Five Wounds. This confraternity undertook as its charitable task to help the poor facing death by assuring them of a decent burial, but also by coming to the aid of the survivors, who often, at the death of a father or a mother, or a husband, were in danger of sinking from poverty into destitution. This confraternity continued to flourish into the 20th century but was dissolved by military force in 1911 by an anticlerical Italian government.

The work is treated as a trompe-l’œil to show that Christ bursts forth from the dark hole of death that swallowed him up, so as to return to the light of life. The gilded frame whose threshold the Risen One is crossing concretizes the door that opens from death onto life. And this is true not only for Jesus himself, but for all mankind. This mystery of the deliverance of the human race is indicated on the uprights of the frame by the depiction of the Archangel Michael: on (the viewer’s) left, guarding the entrance to the earthly paradise; on the right, embracing (in the initial sense: enfolding in his arms) the Tree of Life so as to bar access to it. And the title of the work is precisely this: The Risen Christ Embracing the Cross. The cross is indeed the Tree of Life, which the Son of God embraced to restore free access to it.

Alleluia, Jesus is truly risen!

Alleluia, Jesus is truly risen! Once again all of his human brothers and sisters are allowed to stretch out their hand, to take the fruit of the tree of life, to eat of it and to live forever (see Gn 3:22-24). The juxtaposition of these biblical images enables the artist to show us something inexpressible: the cross/tree of life embraced by Jesus brings about a total reversal of human destiny: what was once a terrifying sign of suffering, torture, and death becomes a sign of the triumph over suffering and death which opens onto eternal happiness in the next life. This is the meaning of the maxim that is featured at the top of the frame: Vulneris de vulnere salus, roughly, “the wound freed us from the wound.” Meditation on this will sustain our contemplation of the work.

This mortal wound that saves us from our original wound, which is also mortal, is presented here for us to contemplate, not only insofar as it is accomplished once for all in its historical coming, but also in its sacramental actualization in our lives: from the wound, from the Savior’s side, the Eucharistic Blood flows unceasingly until the end of time—here it is collected in a chalice by an angel. This divine wine enables us to communicate truly, really, in the offering that Jesus made of his life for our salvation, to the point of making us able, as active members of his body which embraces the cross, to love one another truly, really, as Jesus loved us.

Vulneris de vulnere salus: this maxim therefore confers a programmatic dimension on the banner, a dimension explained by the inscription that figures at the bottom of the frame: Hunc socii sentite in vobis, “Brethren, experience this within yourselves,” in other words: “Brethren, be not content to meditate on this great mystery, but by your devoted life grant that it may be fulfilled in you.”

Pierre-Marie Dumont

Risen Christ embracing the cross (1594), Giovanni Battista Tinti (1558–1617), National Gallery, Parma, Italy. © Scala, Florence – Courtesy of the Ministero Beni e Att. Culturali e del Turismo, Dist. GP-RMN / image Scala..