Annotations tagged with Lohrmann

The New Testament is very insistent that Jesus Christ was not a disembodied spirit, either before or after his resurrection. As this image of his ascension into heaven shows, the risen Christ left physical footprints in the ground. With Jerusalem in the background, Jesus is shown ascending to heaven in triumph, carrying a banner of the cross as he again makes a sign of blessing with his hands. He is welcomed by heavenly angels to “sit at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:56).

Later in the 1520s, a major controversy broke out between Protestants about the meaning of Christ’s ascent to the right hand of God. For reformers like Huldrych Zwingli, this was a literal statement about the risen Christ residing in heaven with God the Father. For others like Luther and Philip Melanchthon, the “right hand of the Father” was a biblical metaphor for the power of God, which meant that the risen Christ shared power and presence in creation as part of the fullness of God. This formed the basis for different views of Christ’s bodily or spiritual presence in the sacrament of Holy Communion, which continues to be a point of difference between various Protestants.

In the early 1520s, such controversies had not yet arisen, and so the image can give a straightforward of the account of the ascension according to Acts 1. In a sign of openness to the witness of women in the early church, the artist has included a woman (perhaps Jesus’ mother or Mary Magdalene) in the foreground next to Peter and the disciples. The coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost in Acts 2 is foreshadowed through the billowing wind that blows Christ’s cloak and banner.

Jesus’ continued presence in the world and with his followers is emphasized in two other Bible references in the text. Luke 1:33 tells the words of the angel Gabriel to Mary that she would bear the savior and “of his kingdom there will be no end.” Jesus would continue to rule in the hearts of his followers and in unity with the Father. In John 12:26, Jesus predicted his death and announced to an astonished crowd, “If anyone serves me, [they] must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also.” As the final line of the final positive panel, this passage connects the ongoing presence and life of Christ with the humble service of his followers.

In contrast to Christ’s ascent to heaven, the opposite panel depicts the pope’s descent into hell. Instead of being welcomed by angels, the pope is being cast into hellfire by monstrous demons. Such a dramatic image accompanies the description of the defeat of the cosmic beast of Revelation 19 and its false prophet:

And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet who in its presence had done the signs by which he deceived those who had received the mark of the beast and those who worshiped its image. These two were thrown alive into the lake of fire that burns with sulfur. And the rest were slain by the sword that came from the mouth of him who was sitting on the horse, and all the birds were gorged with their flesh (Revelation 19:20-21).

A final passage describing the defeat of Christ’s adversaries is cited from 2 Thessalonians 2:8: “And then the lawless one will be revealed, whom the Lord Jesus will kill with the breath of his mouth and bring to nothing by the appearance of his coming.” Just as this work concludes positively by saying that Christ and his followers will be known throughout time by their humble service, so it affirms that the enemies of God will come to naught, made nothing by the holy breath of God in Christ.

Referring to a papal decree about the office of bishop, the opposite panel shows and tells the common practice of bishops being too busy to preach. The text makes allowance for bishops and other clergy to spend their time in administrative affairs. Even more dramatically, the image depicts the pope, bishops and monks at a feast, surrounded by servants and musicians. Once again, this demonstrates the longstanding, common critique of decadence in the church and its leaders. The text ends with a poem about clerical excess and a reference to Isaiah 56, in which the prophet chides neglectful leaders:

All you beasts of the field, come to devour— all you beasts in the forest. His watchmen are blind; they are all without knowledge; they are all silent dogs; they cannot bark, dreaming, lying down, loving to slumber. The dogs have a mighty appetite; they never have enough. But they are shepherds who have no understanding; they have all turned to their own way, each to his own gain, one and all. “Come,” they say, “let me get wine; let us fill ourselves with strong drink; and tomorrow will be like this day, great beyond measure.

After his arrest, the gospels describe Jesus receiving beatings and mockery from soldiers under the command of Roman governor Pontius Pilate. As John 19:1-3 puts it: “Then Pilate took Jesus and flogged him. And the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head and arrayed him in a purple robe. They came up to him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ and struck him with their hands.” The crown and purple robe were meant to deride Jesus’ supposedly royal status.

More than a mere appeal for pity, Jesus’ suffering fulfilled his prediction that he would be arrested, beaten, mocked, and crucified. Despite repeatedly saying this, Jesus’ own disciples could not comprehend such a possibility and rejected it. As an interpretation of what it means to be a righteous savior, however, these indignities connect Jesus with the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53, in which a righteous person becomes a “man of sorrows” who bears the punishment of others and brings redemption through his innocent suffering. Within the context of Isaiah, the Suffering Servant might refer to a righteous prophet like Jeremiah or represent the trials of the entire people of Israel. In the New Testament, this role of suffering savior is clearly applied to Jesus, who—as he told his followers—“came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

Although the dog at Jesus’ feet might seem a curious addition to the picture, it likely connects these afflictions with Psalm 22, the first words of which—“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me me?”—Jesus cried out from the cross. Similarly, while Jesus was on the cross, the Gospel of John describes soldiers casting lots for Jesus’ clothing and then directly cites Psalm 22:18 to explain that action: “they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.” Two verses before that, the Psalm also says, “For dogs encompass me; a company of evildoers encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet.” The psalmist then prays, “Deliver my soul from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dog!” (Psalm 22:16, 20). With these references to Psalm 22 in the background, the Passional’s inclusion of a dog strengthens the ties between Christ’s suffering and Hebrew scriptures about the righteous one who suffers for others.

While Jesus is mocked, beaten, and struggling under the weight of the cross, the pope is being carried on a ceremonial litter, the sedia gestatoria, which was used in papal processions well into the twentieth century. The contrast is direct: Jesus carries the cross and bears the sins of others through his crucifixion, and the pope is carried by servants and carries nothing himself.

The text in the antichrist panel describes the Reformation critique about the way the papacy removed the cross from Christian life. Luther and his colleagues interpreted much of the penitential system as promises to remove suffering instead of encouraging Christians to bear their cross and follow Jesus. The 95 Theses expressed this critique in its conclusion, which says that it is better to enter the kingdom of heaven through crosses and tribulations rather than by escaping suffering and the cross.

This panel depicts the Christmas story, as described in Luke 2. In a humble manger, Mary and Joseph worship the newborn Christ, swaddled in cloth and surrounded by crumbling walls and cattle. Although scholars continue to debate the meaning of “manger” (it can also mean an upper room), this depiction is common in the Christian tradition. Also described in Luke 2, the background story shows an angel telling simple shepherds about the birth of the messiah.

Two New Testament passages accompany the image, each emphasizing the vulnerability and simplicity of Christ’s way of life as foreshadowed in his humble birth. The first, from Luke 9, is Jesus saying the Son of Man has no place to rest his head. The second passage is from 2 Corinthians 8:9, in which Paul connected Christ’s poverty with generosity among Christians: “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.”

The grandeur of the church, palace, and walls of the opposite panel stand in contrast to the manger scene and the poverty of Christ. Furthermore, such imposing buildings are being guarded by an army and the nobility, who have spears, swords, horses, and a canon. The text describes the right of the church to use armed force to take the possessions—and even the lives—of those who oppose the church. This is therefore a powerful Protestant statement against the social, political, and military violence employed by the papacy to maintain and enforce its might.

In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus’ last supper with his disciples revolves around the institution of a ritual meal for the forgiveness of sins, in which Jesus says of bread “this is my body” and of the cup “this is my blood” (Matthew 26:26, et al.). Christians often call this the Eucharist, the Sacrament of Holy Communion, or the Lord’s Supper.

The Gospel of John, however, focuses on Jesus’ action after the meal, when he took the role of servant to wash his disciples’ feet. Going beyond the biblical text, the image shows Jesus not just washing but kissing the foot of a disciple, presumably Peter, who had objected to his master’s lowly act of humility. With Peter scratching his head and the other disciples exchanging confused glances, the artist aptly captures their surprise. Jesus, however, continued to teach through this act of humble service, saying, “If I then, your Lord and teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you should also do just as I have done to you” (John 13:14-15).

This aspiration to worldly power and authority is visible in the contrasting panel. Instead of casting purses and cloaks at Jesus’ feet, the pope and his colleagues are splendidly dressed (one bishop in the front prominently wears a purse) as they set their sights upon the tower at the top of the hill. The corresponding text cites canons about honoring bishops and about sparing no expense when it comes to church consecrations.

One of the most dramatic moments in the gospels is when Jesus drove the money changers out of the temple in Jerusalem. In the Gospel of John, Jesus even made a “whip of cords,” as he chased the merchants out of the temple and overturned their tables (John 2:15). Here Jesus criticized the religious economy that had developed around temple sacrifices. Money changing, for instance, was a way of keeping Roman coinage—with its idolatrous images of the deified emperor—separate from the buying and selling of animals used for temple sacrifices to the God of Israel.

Even before the Reformation, people criticized the religious economy that had developed around late medieval Christian piety and practice. Luther’s challenges of indulgences in the 95 Theses tapped into a larger sense of socio-economic skepticism about the church and its financial practices. Where Jesus is shown casting the money changers out of the temple, the pope himself is pictured as money changer in chief, writing letters of indulgence and selling them for money to the lay people at the table below. All this, of course, happens with the nodding approval of the cardinal, bishops, and monk surrounding the pope. Once again, this pair of images had made not only biblical or theological critiques of the papal church but connected it to the lived experience of the common people.

What is the kingdom of heaven? Quoting Luke 17:20-21, the panel on the left shares Jesus’ words that the kingdom of God does not consist in visible things but rather is within you or among you. Instead of an earthly kingdom and physical riches, Jesus preached and brought a spiritual kingdom, kinship, and treasure. This spiritual life is depicted in the disciples’ sharing of a holy meal the upper left part of the picture. Together they share simple food, with one person pouring the wine and the rest seated together around the table.

The second biblical set of texts further explains the image within the context of Matthew 15, in which Pharisees and scribes challenged Jesus about his disciples’ failure to wash properly before meals. This critique is visualized in the two characters at the bottom right of the scene, one of whom holds a washing basin for the hands of the other.

Frequently the objects of critique in the New Testament, the Pharisees and scribes were important upholders of Jewish teachings and customs, especially in areas further away from the temple and priests in Jerusalem. They had the interests of their religion and the people at heart. In the New Testament, Jesus’ critique of them is not—as later Christians have often interpreted—a critique of Judaism as a religion of law and ritual but a caution to all believers about attending to the faith of the heart rather than trusting in outward ceremonies or good deeds.

Aware of the power that human customs and ideals of holiness have over people’s hearts, Jesus’ words in Matthew 15:8-9 challenge people to put God first, as he cited Isaiah 29:13 (not chapter 21, as the text says), “‘This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.’” Such a passage reinforces the previous verse from Luke 17 about the spiritual, internal nature of the kingdom of God.

The contrasting text asserts that the antichristian kingdom of the papacy is built entirely upon external things like clothing, festivals, consecrations, and religious hierarchies, to the exclusion of the laity and against the witness of scripture. The image shows religious leaders, monks, nuns, and lay people bowing in adoration to the pope. With scepter and crown, he blesses them from his throne.

The reference to 1 Timothy 4:1-4 with which the text concludes was one of the foundational passages for the Protestant accusation that the papacy was antichristian. “Now the Spirit expressly says that in later times some will depart from the faith by devoting themselves to deceitful spirits and teachings of demons, through the insincerity of liars whose consciences are seared, who forbid marriage and require abstinence from foods.” For the reformers, this passage’s words connecting the Antichrist with the papal insistence on forced celibacy and religious rules about feasting and fasting could not be clearer, especially combined with the extravagant worldliness of the Renaissance popes.

By contrast, the corresponding “Antichrist” panel shows the pope receiving an honorific visit from a secular king. The papal insignia of the “keys to the kingdom” stand above the doorway. These keys symbolize Jesus’ promise to give heavenly authority to his disciples. Over time, this authority became increasingly identified with the papacy, especially since the popes viewed themselves as Peter’s successors. In Matthew 16, for instance, after the disciple Simon Peter shared his belief that Jesus was the Messiah, Jesus said to him, “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:18-19). This is a key biblical justification for papal claims of authority over the church.

Far from being a settled matter, however, the church’s relationship to secular authority was often challenging. Before Christianity became legal in the Roman Empire, Christians lived a precarious existence and were subject to outbreaks of persecution by the state, including public execution. At that time, there was little to no expectation that political leadership would or ought be united with the Christian faith. That changed under Emperor Constantine, who first legalized Christianity within the empire and then personally called the Council of Nicea (325 C.E.), a gathering of church leaders that affirmed the full divinity of Jesus Christ and the unity of the three persons of the Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. After this, political authorities played critical roles in the structure and life of the church. In the eastern Roman Empire (the Byzantine Empire), this developed into the practice of “caesaropapism,” in which the emperor appointed leading bishops and provided administrative oversight of the state-sponsored church.

The fall of the western Roman Empire to Germanic tribes in the fifth century created a more complicated situation for the Latin-speaking church. With little political infrastructure left after the invasions, bishops of Rome became influential civic leaders in negotiations with the new authorities and provided much-needed social stability. In this way, Roman bishops eventually came to provide both spiritual and political leadership in western Europe. On this point, an important symbolic moment occurred on Christmas Day in the year 800 C.E., when a pope (the bishop of Rome) crowned Charlemagne as Holy Roman Emperor. Although Charlemagne had not viewed the event in this way, later generations supporting papal primacy came to view this as a sign that the church held ultimate authority in the world, with power over even emperors and princes. Conflicts between secular and church authorities reached a peak in the Investiture Controversy of the eleventh century, in which popes and emperors battled for the right to install local bishops.

Disputes about religious and political authority persisted into the sixteenth century. As the Indulgence Controversy that started with Martin Luther’s 95 Theses grew into the divisions of the Reformation, this question of church authority often stood at the heart of the conflict. In works like his Address to the Christian Nobility of the German Nation, Luther wrote that papal supremacy did not have a basis in the New Testament or the early church, that church leadership was primarily a matter of overseeing faith rather than secular affairs, and that—as concerned baptized Christians—civic leaders could promote the well-being of local congregations if church leaders were negligent in their stewardship of Christ’s gospel.

This first set of images, therefore, taps into long-running and highly-charged disputes about the nature of spiritual leadership. Christ turns away from a crown and flees into the wilderness. By contrast, the pope—protected by a chain, cannons, and an army—receives homage from secular nobility. In addition to the two references to the Gospel of John mentioned early, the left panel ends with words about servant leadership that Jesus spoke at his last supper: “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so among you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves” (Luke 22:25-26).

When Jesus sent his disciples out to preach and heal, he told them to live simply, taking no money, no sandals, no staff, and no extra coat. This is reflected in the image of the disciples laying down their purse, belt, and cloak in front of Jesus, who himself is barefoot and wearing simple clothing as his hand makes a gesture of blessing.

Based on previous images, St. Peter is likely the figure on the left of the picture. As a leader of the disciples before and after Jesus’ resurrection, he is shown following Jesus’ instructions. The second Bible reference under the picture makes another reference to Peter’s poverty. In the Acts of the Apostles, Peter and John met a man who could not walk. Peter healed him, saying, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” (Acts 3:6).

The final line of text drives home this point about Peter’s poverty, as it asks, “Where then is Peter’s patrimony?” The so-called patrimony of St. Peter was a medieval tradition going back to the legalization of Christianity in the Roman Empire under Constantine, which connected the church with legal rights as property owners and eventually rulers of lands. With the complicated dynastic struggles of the early Middle Ages in the Italian peninsula and central Europe, the papacy emerged as a major political force and landowner. Along with later forgeries like the Donation of Constantine, the “patrimony of St. Peter” became part of the religious and legal justification for the papacy’s growing political authority.

Fatigue and exhaustion fill Jesus’ face as he carries the cross. The text connects this with another time earlier in Jesus’ ministry when he also grew tired, stopped at a well, and spoke with a Samaritan woman (John 4). Another related passage comes from Matthew 16, when Jesus first told his disciples that the Son of Man would suffer, be killed, and rise again; he then said that his disciples would also “take up [their] cross and follow me.”

The image also shows Jesus getting help carrying his cross, visually combining the gospel accounts of this moment. Matthew, Mark, and Luke describe Jesus falling with his cross; a man in the crowd named Simon of Cyrene was then forced to carry it for him. John 19, however, asserts that Jesus carried the cross himself. The artists here have synthesized the stories by showing Jesus in pain under his cross and also adding a man who offers support.

This scene uses the story of one of Jesus’ stranger miracles to illustrate his teaching about money and power. In Matthew 17, tax collectors asked Peter if Jesus paid his taxes. Before Simon Peter had a chance to tell Jesus about this encounter, Jesus reframed the issue as one of inheritance: “‘What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tax? From their sons or from others?’ And when he said, ‘From others,’ Jesus said to him, ‘Then the sons are free.’” With this, Jesus taught his followers to view themselves not as subjects of distant masters but as children of a good creator; loving parents do not make their children pay rent, tribute, or taxes.

Nevertheless, to avoid giving offense to secular authorities, Jesus told Peter how to raise the money to pay those who act as lords over others on earth. “However, not to give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook and take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a shekel. Take that and give it to them for me and for yourself” (Matthew 17:27). The image shows Peter—apparently successful in his fishing trip—pulling a coin out of a fish’s mouth and giving it to a tax collector.

In his influential 1520 work The Freedom of a Christian, Martin Luther referred to this story as an example of Jesus’ willingness to live peaceably with local laws and customs and as an encouragement for Christians to serve their neighbors through active civic participation (LW 31:369). Although Luther explained that such good works do not save Christians any more than this miracle made Jesus the messiah, care for the neighbor flows out of true faith in God. Aware that such teachings often arose in a setting of people testing Jesus—as in the encounter in Matthew 22 in which Jesus said, “render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”—the image shows a group of critics gossiping menacingly behind Jesus’ back.

Already in its earliest stages, the Protestant Reformation emphasized the ministry of teaching. Among Lutherans, this culture produced strong values around public education, accessible worship resources and hymns, and pedagogical tools like Luther’s Small Catechism. Introducing his main idea of Christians as at once entirely free in Christ and entirely bound to serve their neighbors in his 1521 tract The Freedom of a Christian, Luther described his goal to “make the way smoother for the unlearned—for only them do I serve.”

The Reformation also re-emphasized preaching as the primary task of ministers and bishops. Instead of being concerned with ceremonies and rules, Luther and his colleagues believed that church leaders should focus on preaching God’s Word clearly, confident that the good news of Jesus Christ would then bear fruit in its hearers. This great trust in the power of gospel preaching appears in article five of the Augsburg Confession (the primary statement of Lutheran preaching and teaching), which says, “So that we may obtain this faith, the ministry of teaching the gospel and administering the sacraments was instituted.” It also grounds the Small Catechism’s explanation of the work of the Holy Spirit: “I believe that… the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with his gifts, made me holy and kept me in the true faith.”

This image of Jesus preaching and teaching to a crowd of ordinary men, women, and children reinforces this concern for basic Christian instruction and formation. The text from Luke 4 belongs to the story of Jesus giving his first sermon in his hometown of Nazareth. The people loved his wise words, until he said that he was called not to serve them but to go to other villages and peoples. Although the townspeople then grew so angry that they tried to throw him off a cliff, Jesus simply walked away and continued his ministry.

Instead of a peaceful crowd and a humble donkey, the corresponding Antichrist panel shows the pope, bishops, and cardinals riding decorated horses and accompanied by armed soldiers. And instead of a blessed rest in the heavenly city, the papal procession’s destination will be the fires of hell. The corresponding text cites a canon about the tonsure—the monastic practice of shaving the top of the head—representing the spiritual kingship and crown of those who had taken religious vows. Another canon affirms the pope’s right to ride in a royal possession like an emperor. The final sentence of the text refers to the pope as the leader of the unrighteous ones condemned in chapter 22 of the Apocalypse of John, more commonly known as Revelation.

Rather than living among the poor, the counter image shows the pope watching a jousting tournament, far above the chaos of knights and horses. Wealthy women, trumpeters, and clergy join the pope in the upper level. The first text describing the image quotes canon law approving the elevated status of the papacy over the common people.

In the bottom right, a court jester announces the spectacle. This emphasizes the second half of the text, which describes a stereotype of Germans as fools who need to be ruled strictly because of their ignorance. This panel therefore shows how the early Reformation tapped into widespread German discontent with foreign rulers like the popes.

In contrast to Jesus’ crown of thorns, the pope is shown being crowned with the three-tiered papal tiara, enthroned in a royal hall. Monks, bishops, and attendants wait on him. Soldiers and weapons—signs of worldly power—can be seen in the distance.

The text underneath this image speaks of the Donation of Constantine, a document long used in the Middle Ages to support papal supremacy. Claiming that Emperor Constantine had given the bishop of Rome authority over both church and state in the western part of the empire, the document was shown to be inauthentic by Italian humanist Lorenzo Valla (1407-1457 CE). In the time of the Reformation, public awareness of such ill-founded claims for authority contributed to general critiques of the papacy and a widespread desire for church reform.

2 Thessalonians 2—another important early Protestant passage connecting the papacy with Antichrist—is cited below the picture of indulgence selling. Speaking of the coming day of the Lord, that Pauline letter says, “Let no one deceive you in any way. For that day will not come, unless the rebellion comes first, and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the son of destruction, who opposes and exalts himself against every so-called god or object of worship, so that he takes his seat in the temple of God, proclaiming himself to be God.” For the reformers, the papal claims of absolute supremacy and the rampant abuse involved in religious practices like the selling of indulgences was a clear sign that an enemy of Christ’s church had arisen from within the church itself, especially when contrasted with the radical critique of religious wealth visible in stories like Jesus driving the money changers out of the temple.

In the contrasting image, dignitaries are lined up to kiss the foot of the pope, who is again seated on a throne wearing a royal robe and crown. With his hand making a sign of blessing, the pope praises those at his feet, a crowd which includes royalty and other fancily dressed men and women. At his side are a cardinal, bishop, and monk, distinguished by their headwear: the cardinal wears a galero hat, the bishop has a miter and staff (or crosier), and the monk has a tonsure haircut. They look down on the lay people at the pope’s feet, as an indication of the second-class spiritual status of all lay people, wealthy though they may be. Rather than serving others as Christ did, the pope is being served and admired by others.

The text under this image identifies this proud attitude as a sign of the second beast of Revelation 13, which says that those who do not worship this beast will be slain (Revelation 13:15). Rather than being ashamed of such idolatrous devotion, the text then cites a section of church law that celebrates such devotion.

Assuming that Jesus is washing and kissing the foot of St. Peter, the contrast grows even stronger: Christ serves Peter, while the popes (traditionally viewed as Peter’s successors) demand that others kneel before them.

If Peter went fishing to pay taxes honestly owed, the opposite image shows the pope fishing for wealth. This language critiquing church wealth appeared already in Luther’s 95 Theses: “Therefore the treasures of the gospel are nets with which one formerly fished for men of wealth. The treasures of indulgences are nets with which one now fishes for the wealth of men” (LW 31:31; theses 65-66). Surrounded by other clergy, the pope pulls a net of coins up from under the lay people assembled below him. A money bag is at his feet.

On the lower level, the lay people are being approached by a monk, nun, and priests, who have similarly gathered to collect money from the people. The text below the image cites a church law requiring the laity to pay what the clergy demand. Such financial burdens imposed by the church contributed to the common people’s dissatisfaction with the institutional church and the popularity of calls for reform.

Surrounded by people who are blind or who cannot walk, Jesus prays for their healing. Amid this humble need, the accompanying text is a passage from St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians, in which Christ’s divine majesty is seen most clearly in his embrace of lowliness and humility (Philippians 2:6-8).

This holy reversal of God present and active in places, lives, and experiences marked by shame and need rather than splendor provided the basis for Martin Luther’s “theology of the cross.” Luther developed this teaching in 1518 works like the Heidelberg Disputation and his Explanations to the 95 Theses:

A theologian of the cross (that is, one who speaks of the crucified and hidden God), teaches that punishments, crosses, and death are the most precious treasury of all and the most acred relics which the Lord of this theology himself has consecrated and blessed, not alone by the touch of his most holy flesh but also by the embrace of his exceedingly holy and divine will, and he has left these relics here to be kissed, sought after, and embraced.

In this “theology of the cross,” Jesus is revealed through his healing of the sick. The issue of Jesus’ identity is pictured here through the person—maybe Peter—who points to Jesus, as Peter first confessed his belief that Jesus was the messiah in Matthew 16:16. Similarly, in Luke 7 disciples of John the Baptist went to find out if Jesus was the holy one they were waiting for. Jesus replied, “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me” (Luke 7:22-23). This image depicts Jesus’ holy identity precisely in his compassion for those in need.

In each of the four gospels, Christ’s entry into Jerusalem sets in motion the events leading to his death. Arriving as a prince of peace, the people in the crowd welcomed Jesus with palm branches and songs, saying, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” (Matthew 21:9). This adulation, however, also provoked significant confrontations with religious and secular authorities. Because the gospel of John says that this happened six days before the Passover, Christians have long observed the Sunday before Easter as “Palm Sunday,” the beginning of Holy Week and of the story of Christ’s passion (suffering) and resurrection.

The scene specifically recalls a saying from the prophet Zechariah: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zechariah 9:9). The artist has solved the dilemma of Jesus supposedly riding two animals at once by having Jesus sit on the donkey, followed by a pony.

Jesus’ peaceful intent is signified through the sign of blessing he makes with his hand as he enters the holy city. Similarly, the crowd coming behind him is full of peaceful men and women. The text under the image invokes both Matthew and John’s accounts of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, adding the explanation that Jesus leads his people to a blessed rest in the life to come.

Jesus refused to become a worldly king or ruler. In the story pictured here, Jesus escaped a crowd that wanted to “take him by force and make him king” after they experienced the miraculous feeding of five thousand people who had come to hear him speak (John 6:15). Another reference to the Gospel of John in the text accompanying this image comes from Jesus’ trial before the Roman governor of Judea, a man named Pontius Pilate. Pilate asked Jesus, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus replied, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:33-37).