EASTER 2017

Exeter Cathedral

Piero della Francesca and the Resurrection of Christ

In 1944 the 8th Army was at the vanguard of the ‘great push’ through central Italy. Having taken Rome, by October the Allies had reached Tuscany and a group of British soldiers advanced on the town of Sansepolchro where a division of the German army had established its headquarters.

The British troops were ordered to bomb the town and to flush out the enemy. In the event, however, the captain in charge of the attack refused to obey the order.

The name of this little Italian town rang a bell in his mind. He remembered as a schoolboy coming across Aldous Huxley’s claim that the town of Sansepolchro contained the greatest picture in all the world.

It is difficult to know how to respond to such grandiose statements, but what we do know is that the bombardment of the town was postponed for 24hrs in the hope that the remaining German troops would retreat under the cover of darkness – which indeed they did.

As a result the picture was saved for posterity.

The picture in question is of the resurrection of Christ and was painted in the mid-15th century by Piero della Francesca. The picture is not in an art gallery or in a church, but is actually a fresco painted on the back wall of the town hall.

Years ago on holiday in Italy, after days of tramping round various hilltop villages visiting countless Baroque churches complete with weeping Madonnas and baleful crucifixion scenes, it was a relief (but also a bit of a shock) to be confronted by this extraordinary painting.

A muscular Christ steps onto the edge of his tomb, resurrection banner in hand, as if it were the rampart of a conquered city. At his feet the soldiers lie fast asleep, posted by Pontius Pilate at the request of the High Priest to guard the tomb of this crucified messiah, the pretend King of the Jews.

In the painting the slumbering soldiers, lethargic and weak, symbolise poor, tired, bored humanity. Meanwhile Piero’s Christ cuts a strong masculine figure, immensely powerful as he rises from the grave and strides into life.

Even if you don’t know the painting, you may remember some years ago a modern artist depicted the French footballer Eric Cantona in identical pose. The pastiche made a bit of a splash at the time, with pious Christians and art historians alike being suitably offended by the portrayal.

As I gazed at the painting that day in Sansepolchro I thought it was fantastic, but my admiration was somewhat wrecked by two ladies from Edinburgh who were also looking at the fresco.

They were decidedly puzzled and one of them pointed to the banner in Christ’s hand, complete with its white flag bearing a transverse red cross.

That self-same flag flies from the tower of this cathedral this morning and indeed all over England. We call it St George’s flag, the flag of England. In origin, of course, it was the flag of the resurrection, flown by the crusaders in medieval Jerusalem. It was English soldiers who brought back the flag with them from the Holy Land, along with a devotion to St George the early Christian soldier-martyr with the result that he became the patron saint of England.

Looking at the fresco one of the Scottish ladies pointed to the flag and said, “Why do you think our Lord is brandishing the English flag?”

“It’s because Janet,” her friend replied, “he’s just come from harrowing hell, and there are a lot of the English down there.”

In our western tradition, it is predominantly the suffering of Christ which colours our religious imagination. Our churches and galleries are full of pictures either of the baby Jesus lying helplessly in a manger or of dead Christ hanging on the cross.

In both cases it is the vulnerability of Jesus which is portrayed. If Jesus is portrayed in his public ministry at all, it is usually the meek and mild version that gazes out at us. But the truth is Jesus didn’t go around the Judean countryside being limp.

A more balanced Christian faith reflects not just on the vulnerability of Jesus, on Christ the victim, but on Christ the victor – the transforming power of Jesus Christ in his resurrection.

And that’s why this painting by Piero in this obscure Tuscan town, with a Christ who looks directly at you and yet mysteriously beyond you with his all-knowing eyes, is so arresting.

Christ is both powerful and serene. He looks into our heart and knows us as we are. And most importantly, he sees us as we can become by his grace.

‘Lo, Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb .
Lovingly he greets us, scatters fear and gloom.’

The resurrection is God’s promise that his love is deeper and higher and wider than the worse evil that anyone can ever commit and the most terrible suffering that we might ever have to endure.

The resurrection is God’s promise that there is nothing in the whole of creation which is outside his redeeming love.

As St Paul put it in his Letter to the Romans:

‘For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’

(Romans 8.38,39)

Piero’s Christ summons us to life. He looks at us and says, ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Get up. You have a life to live and I am here to empower you to live it to the full. There is no time to waste. Come on. Get going.’

And this is no selfish summons. Contrary to the prejudices of the self-help books, Christianity is not all about me and my quest for personal fulfilment and blow the rest of you. We are called to be agents of God’s transformation in his world.

And Piero represents this in the way the landscape in his painting changes from left to right.

On one side of the resurrected Christ the trees are bare and leafless. It is winter and dead. But on the other side of the painting, the trees are in leaf and blossom. Spring has come.

A new era has dawned with Christ’s rising. God brings life out of death. God is making all things new.

Today God moves us with his Christ from death to life. He refuses to leave us wallowing in self-pity or weakness. God summons us to life. And with Christ we are more than conquerors.

So let us arise with Christ the victor and follow him to glory.

+ Robert Exon