Christ the King of Glory - Rex Gloriae

The Cross is the Glory of Christ

As we approach the Sunday of Christ the King, I thought I would feature the award-winning Crucifixion painted by the English Catholic artist Martin Earle. This choice may surprise some who are expecting an image of Christ Enthroned, such as the one at the foot of this article (also by Martin Earle). I chose this Crucifixion because the artist decided to entitle it Rex Gloriae—King of Glory—a title that I think is wholly appropriate.

This wonderful painting hangs in the Cathedral in Aberdeen, Scotland. It is painted in egg tempera on a gessoed wooden panel. It is two-sided, with the same image repeated on each side. This allows it to be hung over the altar so that both the congregation and those in the sanctuary will see the image as they worship. 

It encapsulates Salvation History in five images, representing Christ's life, passion, death, resurrection, and ascension into heaven. 

First, in the main picture, we see the inscription Rex Glo, which stands for Rex Gloriae, the King of Glory. This draws our attention to the Kingship of Christ commemorated in the Church on the Solemnity of Christ the King, the last Sunday before Advent. Christ was crucified precisely because he claimed to be a king, and Pilate wrote the inscription "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" (not shown on this cross but often represented by the first letters of the Latin version, INRI). Pilate wrote this to give legal justification for his execution of an authority who might be perceived as a threat to Roman rule.

As Christians, we know that Christ was always king by his divine nature as the Son of God, and he became king by his victory over death and suffering through his crucifixion and now by a nomination from an earthly authority. Accordingly, in the creed, we profess that Christ is king because of his divine nature as "God from God and Light from Light" and because he was "crucified under Pontius Pilate."

Accompanying Christ are Mary the Mother of God and St John the Evangelist on the left, and on the right, in accordance with the Gospel of John, we see Mary Magdalene and Mary, the wife of Clopas. The male figure on the right is the soldier who pierced Jesus' side with a spear, fulfilling Zechariah's prophecy:

And I will pour out on the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of compassion and supplication, so that, when they look on him whom they have pierced, they shall mourn for him, as one mourns for an only child, and weep bitterly over him, as one weeps over a first-born. (Zechariah 12:10)

This centurion is the soldier who came to us in tradition as St Longinus, recognised Our Lord as the Son of God in an act of faith. Tradition identifies this figure as Longinus, who became a bishop and saint in the early Church. From the pierced side flow blood and water, symbolising the Eucharist and Baptism. 

Considering now the minor images: 

On the left is the Nativity, which reminds us of the life of Christ and the mystery of the incarnation and of Mary, the Mother of God, who gave him his humanity. As a point of interest, the stable is portrayed as a cave in a mountain. This reflects the actual local topography and is a visual reference to a prophecy in the Book of Daniel in which the King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon had a dream and Daniel, his counsellor, was called to interpret:

“You watched while a stone was cut out without hands, which struck the image on its feet of iron and clay, and broke them in pieces….Inasmuch as you saw that the stone was cut out of the mountain without hands and that it broke in pieces the iron, the bronze, the clay, the silver, and the gold—the great God has made known to the king what will come to pass after this. The dream is certain, and its interpretation is sure.” (Dan 2:34, 45)

The mountain is traditionally interpreted as the Theotokos, and Christ Himself is the stone ‘cut without hands’. This language alludes to the perpetual virginity of the Theotokos. For example, an ancient hymn in the Byzantine liturgy which draws on the traditional teaching of the Church says:

We exalt you, O Theotokos, crying out, “You are the mountain out of which, in a wondrous way, a stone was hewn that crushed the gates of Hades.” (Orthros, Friday, Tone 4)

Below the central figure is the skull in a cave, a reference to Golgotha - 'the place of the skull' - where Christ was crucified, and to his descent to Hell for three days after his entombment by which he freed Adam and Eve and the souls. The cave in this part of the cross echoes the cave which was the stable in the nativity scene. One is the place of his birth, the other of his death. The white swaddling clothes in the nativity scene also become an anticipatory sign of his future death when he will be wrapped in a shroud. The heavenly Christ - in the Ascension then has a brilliant white outer garment, which is the transfigured garment, indicating that not just the person but of all creation - animate and inanimate - participates in the redemption offered to us.

On the right, we see the myrrh-bearing women who came to the tomb and found it empty, and an angel told them of the resurrection. 

Finally, we see the Ascension, when Christ, having appeared to the Apostles, ascended to heaven and took his place at the right hand of the Father.

Why Beauty Matters

And Art for Art’s Sake is Anti-Human

The purpose of art and the role of beauty in the culture have been subjects of ongoing debate. While some view art as existing purely for its own sake - ‘art for art’s sake’ - divorced from any broader utility or message, others argue that art must serve a didactic or ideological function. The traditional Christian perspective, however, offers a distinct understanding that avoids these extremes, and the result is art for God's sake, which, if done well, will always be art for our sake too.

The interior of St Mark's Cathedral Venice: Is this art for art's sake, or art for God's sake?
(Rob Hurson, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

Central to the Christian view is recognising the profound unity of the material and spiritual dimensions in the human person. As beings composed of both body and soul, humans possess material and spiritual needs. Consequently, the purpose of art cannot be reduced solely to aesthetic considerations or purely practical or ideological aims. Rather, true art must harmonise these aspects, reflecting and serving the totality of human nature, material and spiritual.

This understanding is rooted in Christian anthropology, which sees beauty not as a superfluous addition to an object's utility but as an integral part of its purpose. When an object is truly beautiful, its beauty is seen as a sign that its purpose is in accord with God's governance of the world—a reflection of divine inspiration or the beauty of Creation itself.

Take, for example, something as mundane as a toothbrush. While its primary purpose is the practical one of cleaning teeth and promoting bodily health, a well-designed toothbrush incorporates elements of beauty that speak to a broader understanding of human well-being. Its harmonious design serves its practical function and invites the user to consider the more profound implications of oral hygiene for overall health and spiritual vitality. While few will consciously contemplate such things when brushing their teeth (least of all first thing in the morning or last thing at night!), most of us, even with something as simple as a toothbrush, would not choose an ugly one in preference to a beautiful one, given the choice. This means that they are accepting the invitation of beauty at some level.

This principle is even more evident and more important in works of art with a direct spiritual or liturgical purpose, such as sacred art or architecture. In these cases, beauty plays a crucial role in elevating the human spirit and facilitating the contemplation of the divine. For instance, the beauty of a cathedral is not merely an aesthetic embellishment but a vital component of its purpose as a house of worship, drawing the hearts and minds of the faithful towards heaven.

The Christian perspective recognises that individuals possess free will and can respond positively or negatively to the call of beauty. While beauty can inspire a deepening desire for virtue and a closer relationship with God, it can also be rejected or dismissed as mere sentimentality.

Ultimately, the traditional Christian view sees art and beauty not as ends in themselves but as means of elevating the human person and facilitating a deeper engagement with the spiritual realm. Beauty is not a superficial adornment but a reflection of the divine order – a sign that an object or work of art fulfils its intended purpose in harmony with God's design.

In this understanding, the apprehension of beauty is not merely an emotional response but a profound experience that can engage the intellect, will, and emotions in a multifaceted way. It is a call to contemplate the divine, to pursue virtue, and to recognise the unity of the material and spiritual dimensions of human existence.

By integrating these perspectives, the traditional Christian view offers a nuanced and holistic approach to the purpose of art and the role of beauty – one that recognises their intrinsic value while situating them within a broader framework of human flourishing and spiritual growth.. 

One presumes that even Our Lady cleaned her teeth, and if she had done so, even this humble activity would have been done gracefully and beautifully.

A Modern Medium For Artists Looking to Offer Traditional Beauty To Our Churches

After a recent article suggesting that light, portable images and furnishings, such as a rood screen, might be a way to beautiful sacred spaces at a reasonable cost, I was delighted to hear again from the well-known Catholic sculptor Thomas Marsh. He wanted to tell me about a medium that he uses, which he felt would help people looking for economical and lightweight sculptures and sculpted furnishings that nevertheless have a permanent look - white gypsum cement. This was new to me, and what he described was worth passing on to you.

I've featured Thomas’s work before, notably in an interview with Dr. Carrie Gress. What sets Thomas apart in the world of classical naturalism is his deep understanding of sacred art. Unlike many skilled artists who blur the lines between sacred and secular, Thomas knows that sacred art should idealize its subjects more emphatically, emphasizing universal human values over particular details, but without neglecting the particular altogether in a subtle balance of naturalism and idealism. When artists get this right, and I think Thomas does, the result is sculptures worthy of veneration, rather than what we often see, portraits of models dressed as holy figures, albeit skillfully rendered.

Thomas wrote to me about white gypsum cement: "It's in the plaster family, though much harder and more durable. It's strictly an interior material. I often do relief sculptures for projects for the Church, and the beauty of reliefs is that they are sufficiently subtle to harmonise with architecture, when appropriate. When focused upon, they lend themselves to detailed representation, to almost any degree of verisimilitude with proper lighting from above. Finally, they are VERY economical to produce, ship, and install."

To showcase this versatile medium, I've included some examples of Thomas' relief works. There's also a photo of a large ensemble he created for St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception in Fredericksburg, VA. The centerpiece is a 6'6" corpus cast in fiberglass-reinforced gypsum cement with light polychrome—i.e. coloration. Despite its impressive size, it weighs just 90 pounds!

Contact Thomas Marsh through thomasmarshsculptor.net