Works depicting the mysteries of the rosary include historical first-century figures who have a prominent place in the thoughts and deeply held beliefs of many. There are many questions about how to portray them and what portraying them in a certain way might communicate. They are figures to be treated with respect and adoration, which is certainly my aim, but when the paint meets the canvas, they must look like someone.
There are endless debates on the physical characteristics of Jesus Christ. In addition to the countless motivations applied to artists who have depicted him over the centuries, artists are often maligned by current sensibilities that are applied carelessly to the past. It is no surprise that Christ tends to take on the physical characteristics of those artists who portray him. Over the centuries, the makeup of patrons also influenced the artist’s decision-making when creating an image of Christ. A fair amount of poetic license is taken in sacred art in portraying the Holy family, disciples, and saints. Artists go to great lengths to create a symbolic language to open the door just a little so that our hearts and minds might be better oriented toward the divine.
Years ago, when I was in San Pedro, Belize, I visited a small Catholic Church, and the Holy Family looked like the locals who lived there. There was an innocence about that, a charm I’ll never forget. It was touching to see this work created by an artist whose experiences must have been so different from my own, yet there we met, both of us trying to uncover the mysteries that help give order and meaning to our lives.
Over the years, I’ve seen Madonnas who were Asian and Eastern Indian. I’ve seen Christ portrayed as Caucasian, Black, Hispanic, and American Indian. I think they are all wonderful and what’s more, I think they are all accurate.
Christ had to look like someone in the temporal world, and I assume his physical characteristics were those of a first-century man living along the Southeastern Mediterranean Sea. We know a lot about how people from that area looked and dressed and their customs. I would guess He was brown-eyed, dark-haired, and olive-skinned. That may be accurate or not, but I am convinced it doesn’t matter at all. I understand the desire for kinship with Jesus Christ, but sometimes, that kinship is seen through the superficial lens of appearance or culture. We can look beyond all that.
Fortunately, there is little need for these debates, as Christ Himself tells us exactly what He looks like.
34 Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.
35 For I was hungry, and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me,
36 naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison
and you visited me.’
37 Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?
38 When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you?
39 When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’
40 And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for the least of my brothers, you did for me.’
Matthew 25:34-40.
There is the answer for everyone to see.
You see His face in those who suffer. In their misfortune, their loneliness, and desperation, you’ve seen Him. You see Him in the faces of those struggling against their own inadequacies and faults. You see Him in the compassionate eyes of the charitable, the forgiving, and the merciful. You see Him in the faces of those who sacrifice and suffer on behalf of others, especially in the quiet, where almost no one can see – in those who have picked up their cross.
If your heart was ever moved by compassion for another, you both saw in each other the face of Jesus Christ. If you have ever needed forgiveness or mercy and, from within that need, understood fully the necessity of charity to another, you know what Christ is saying about His divinity in each of us. He looks like everyone you love. He looks like those you shun and those to whom you are indifferent. He looks like the child crying out in the night, an old man alone and forgotten, a teenager wandering on a lonely road – He looks like me.
He looks like you.