And when they came to the place which is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on the right and one on the left. And Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." And they cast lots to divide his garments. And the people stood by, watching; but the rulers scoffed at him, saying "He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!" Luke 23:33-35

Two colors, two movements. One of aggressive green, the other a tender and vulnerable pink and yellow. The green color highlights a brutish face, an oversized nail, and hammer. It stigmatizes the massive cross as the ultimate negation of life. Placed on this altar of aggressive death, the dislocated members of the Suffering Servant are trembling in senseless torture and pain. Faceless and helpless, as the tender pink and yellow colors suggest, he is now indeed a worm and no man.

Human life is full of green and pink dichotomies, not least because I, too, have two souls in my body: one that belongs to the brutish face with nail and hammer, the other trembling in helpless need for truth, goodness, and beauty.

So the soldiers did this. But standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother, "Woman, behold, your son!" Then he said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother!" And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home . . . When Jesus had received the vinegar, he said, "It is finished;" and he bowed his head and gave up his spirit . . . But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water. John 19:25-27, 30, 34

A purified version of the classical representation of the Arma Christi motif (the tools of Christ’s suffering: ladder, lance, nails, etc.), this crucifixion is further a tribute to Christ triumph over death. His head (invisible as always!) is no longer part of his suffering body, and the body itself, slim and almost sleek, suggests a powerful upsurge and breaking out of the confined space in which it has been imprisoned. The figures surround the cross, and, painted in luminous greys and tender blacks, are like a silent ballet accompanying the Savior on his journey beyond.

There is a place for me in this ballet, if I am able to grasp the essential truth of human life as it is embodied in Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection.