As a mom, grandma, and Methodist Sunday School teacher, I know the value of “expected suspense.” Lift the flap books are a sure thing for
toddlers, even for the 20th time, as are picture books where you already know what will be on the next page.
So it was with church art for illiterate Christians in the
Middle Ages. Sometimes the story of Jesus would be on a scroll that the priest
would unfold from the top of the pulpit. The first panel might show the Trinity (the
headline). Next panel: The Annunciation. Next panel: John the Baptist.
Nino Zchomeldise, assistant professor
in the art & archaeology department at Princeton University ,
wrote a chapter on one such scroll for the book she edited, “Meaning in Motion: the semantics of movement in medieval art.” (I coveted that book and disclose now that Princeton University Press
sent me a copy. I am thrilled to have it and to be able to relate it to an exhibit on view now.) In the panel Zchomeldise
discusses, one can just imagine the wide-eyed
worshippers as each part of the story is displayed and told.
The triptych (one panel of wood, flanked by two more panels that can close inward) offered another kind of suspense. As one of the chapters in Zchomeldise’s book explains, the ritual opening of these panels could be a moment of high drama. A lift-the-flap moment to the Nth power.
Now I’m getting to the good part, the part that makes a difference to you. You can see some triptychs on display at the Princeton University Art Museum, part of the medieval alabaster exhibit from the Victoria and Albert Museum in
If your children go to Sunday School, bring them along. Don’t drag them through the whole exhibit, as that will be boring, and some of it (like the disemboweling of St. Edmund) is gory. But these beautiful, small alabaster altar pieces, crafted in
#3 The visit of the Magi (pictured above left). Theologically, the visit of the wise men from the East shows that Christ came to the gentiles as well as the Jews. Visually enjoyable for children, it shows the ox and the ass eating out of the trough in the foreground (aren't they cute?). Meanwhile Joseph is dozing off, presumably dreaming that he’d better flee to
# 20 The Annunciation, which shows the four angels named in Psalm 85: 10 and 11. In the King James version (conveniently available as part of the exhibit) this psalm declares that “Mercy and truth are met together, righteousness and peace have kissed each other. Truth shall spring out of the earth; and righteousness shall look down from heaven.” All that happens in this altar piece.
I would also direct them to #19,
The children would also recognize #52 Christ’s entry into
#31 the Ascension with everyone looking up in awe, and all you see are Christ’s feet suspended in air. So literal.
Plus of course the triptychs, as the early 15th century one on the right. The painted, gilded, wooden triptychs cannot be manipulated by viewers of the exhibit, of course, but you can imagine the dramatic opening when, during the service, the secrets of the Trinity would be revealed.
In the 21st century we are so far removed, so superior, so much more artistically and theologically sophisticated than they were in the Middle Ages -- yet their art can speak to us, and especially to our children.
Picture credits:
The Adoration of the Magi, mid-15th century
Alabaster
43.2 x 26.7 cm. (17 x 10 1/2 in.)
The Victoria and Albert Museum
Image courtesy of the Victoria and Albert Museum
The Trinity, early 15th century
Alabaster and wood
55.9 x 31.4 cm. (22 x 12 3/8 in.)
The Victoria and Albert Museum
Image courtesy of the Victoria and Albert Museum
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