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| The post-Byzantine fresco of the Apokathelosis, painted by the venerable Parthenios Skourtos (mid-18th century) in the Katholikon of the Skete of Kavsokalyva, inspired Photois Kontoglou. |
The Passion of Christ
(Column written for Proia in 1934)
By Photis Kontoglou
(Column written for Proia in 1934)
By Photis Kontoglou
“In this world my eyes have seen many things, my ears have heard many things; like every man I have read a multitude of books written by the most worthy people of every place. And yet, every time these days of the Passion of Christ come, everything fades away, and my heart falls into a sweet sorrow.
Just as winter comes each year, just as the equinox comes and the earth changes its face and people are affected by the moon, by the stars, and by the comets that cross their path, so too Great Week comes like a sooty night — but behind it there flickers the gentle star of hope.”
“It is finished!” cried the much-suffering Christ from upon the Cross, and He bowed His weary head.
With this word was sealed the work He accomplished upon the earth for our salvation. All that He had to do was now completed: His teaching, the healings, the other miracles, the counsels, the prophecies, the temptations, the struggles, the sufferings, the putting to death of His body — whose blood was shed out of love for mankind.
That great day was Friday toward evening, and the Sabbath was dawning. Thus, on that Sabbath He rested in the bosom of the earth, which He Himself had fashioned. On this sanctified day the eyelids of His body were closed, His wounded members were laid to rest. “Having lain down, He slept like a lion and like a lion’s whelp,” according to the prophecy spoken by Jacob concerning Christ many centuries before: “He lay down and slept like a lion, like a young lion — who shall rouse Him?”
On the evening of Great Friday the Lamentations of the Epitaphios are chanted. All the hymns and troparia are compunctive. Yet none reaches such spiritual height, such heavenly purity, such warm tenderness — but also such triumphant majesty and sacred inspiration — as the Canon of the Epitaphios, composed by the sanctified nightingale of the Church, Kassiani.
This sublime hymn, this angelic composition, is the “By a wave of the sea” (Κύματι θαλάσσης), chanted with a truly archangelic melody. Who has ever fashioned another such hymn, which gives man wings to fly, carried away by a joy of another world? “…But we, like the maidens, let us sing unto the Lord, for gloriously has He been glorified!” “For behold, He who dwells in the highest is counted among the dead and is lodged in a small tomb. Him do children bless, priests hymn, and people exalt above all forever.”
Liturgical exaltation and joy. A funeral hymn without fleshly sorrow — for it is dispelled by the triumph of the Resurrection.
The Entombment
(Eleftheria, April 19, 1952 – Great Saturday)
By Photios Kontoglou
(Eleftheria, April 19, 1952 – Great Saturday)
By Photios Kontoglou
“Therefore, because it was the Preparation Day, that the bodies should not remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a high day), the Jews asked Pilate that their legs might be broken, and that they might be taken away” (John 19:31).
Do you see the hypocrisy? They were not concerned about the killing of Christ, but they were afraid lest they commit sin by not taking down the corpses from the crosses and thus defile the Sabbath! So Pilate sent the soldiers, and they broke with iron bars the bones of the two thieves who were still alive. But Christ, since they saw that He was already dead, they did not touch; and thus the Scripture was fulfilled which says, “not a bone of Him shall be broken.” Only one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and there came out blood and water, so that the other Scripture might also be fulfilled, which says, “they shall look on Him whom they pierced.” It seems that throughout all this time Saint John, the beloved disciple of the Lord, was standing near the Cross, for he says that he himself saw the piercing: “and he who has seen has borne witness, and his testimony is true” (John 19:35).
There was a rich and distinguished man, honorable and respectable, a secret disciple of Christ, named Joseph. He went to Pilate and asked him to give him the body of Christ in order to bury it. And Pilate granted him this favor. So he went with his servants, and they took down the immaculate body from the nails and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth. Nicodemos also came, himself a disciple of Christ, bringing with him myrrh and spices, much myrrh and aloes; and with these they anointed the body and wrapped it in burial cloths, as was the custom of the Jews. This is the “Apokathelosis” of Christ, which we see painted with such reverence and sorrow in the solemn icons of our Church. Joseph is standing on a ladder, leaning against the Cross, an elderly man with a long beard and large stature, with a tearful yet dignified face, lifting the immaculate body and holding it in his embrace.
The nails have been removed from hands of Christ. The right hangs down and is held by Mary Magdalene, weeping, while the left is held by John, who also weeps.
The head of the Lord remains upright, with the hair parted and fallen upon His shoulder. His face is sorrowful, full of pain, mercy, and gentleness, with closed eyelids and a modestly fallen mustache.
The Panagia stands upright and holds in her arms her only-begotten Son, placing her hands tenderly upon His chest. Her head is pressed closely beside Christ’s; her cheek rests upon the pale cheek of her Son, and her eyes pour forth streams of tears.
Whoever has not seen the Apokathelosis painted by one of our most devout old iconographers — especially the Cretan painters of Mount Athos — cannot even form the slightest idea of the passion contained in this scene. A compunctive lament pours forth from the icon, making tears well up in the eyes of the worshiper.
Such icons exist in many places throughout Greece. A great religious passion emanates from the Apokathelosis depicted in the Kyriakon of the Skete of Kavsokalyva, where the faces are distorted by pain, yet with that “good and devout distortion” that the suffering and patient faces of the saints receive, according to the profound word of Saint Symeon the New Theologian.
Near Golgotha and the Garden of Gethsemane, Joseph had hewn for himself a tomb in the rock. In this tomb they placed the body of Christ and sealed it with a heavy stone. And the Sabbath was dawning.
From afar stood the holy women — Mary Magdalene, Mary of Clopas, Salome, and the others — who had followed Him from Galilee. It seems that the Panagia had been taken to her home. They stood there weeping and afraid, watching where He was buried. Then they returned to their homes and prepared the spices to anoint the immaculate body on the next day, that is, on the day of Pascha, since on the Sabbath the Jews did nothing according to the Law of Moses. Our sublime hymnography showers with unfading flowers our most sweet Christ, for whom the purest tears flowed from human hearts. First among them, Kassiani, the sorrowful dove of the Church, composed her most beautiful poems for the Entombment of the Lord.
“He who once covered the pursuing tyrant with the wave of the sea is now hidden beneath the earth by the children of those who were saved. But we, like the maidens, let us sing unto the Lord, for gloriously has He been glorified.”
“Be astonished, O heaven, and tremble; let the foundations of the earth be shaken. For behold, He who dwells in the highest is counted among the dead and is lodged in a small tomb. Him do children bless, priests hymn, and people exalt above all forever.”
But other hymnographers also soared to great heights, lamenting the burial of Christ:
“When Joseph of Arimathea took You down dead from the tree, O Life of all, he buried You, O Christ, with myrrh and fine linen. And with longing his heart hastened to embrace Your immaculate body; yet restrained by fear, rejoicing he cried to You: Glory to Your condescension, O Lover of mankind.”
“Today the tomb holds Him who holds all creation in the hollow of His hand. A stone covers Him who covered the heavens with virtue. Life sleeps, and Hades trembles, and Adam is freed from his bonds. Glory to Your dispensation, whereby having accomplished all, You have granted us an eternal Sabbath, Your most holy Resurrection from the dead.”
But whoever does not feel our Byzantine music — which adorns these wondrous words with even greater feeling — will not deeply understand the words themselves. For words and chant are one thing, like body and soul, like form and color in iconography. My brethren, listen to me and do not be deceived by the empty, foolish, theatrical music with which they clothe our sublime troparia, which are full of heavenly passion and deep mystery. This clothing is entirely foreign, unfitting to the sacred meanings contained in the words of our hymns. The same spirit that created the troparia also created the music. If you do not feel them, it is not their fault — it is yours, because you have become accustomed to something else, just as it is not God’s fault if someone does not find Him in his heart.
Go to the Cathedral, where they now chant properly, in the Orthodox manner, and listen with compunction and humility to the service. And little by little your ears will be opened, and they will perceive the mystical sweetness of Orthodox chant. May God grant that we may be found worthy “with one mouth and one heart to glorify and hymn His all-honorable and majestic Name.” Amen.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
