A sermon in form and colour

Fixed to the wall facing the altar in the chapel is a large painting, executed in traditional tripyth form with three panels, the central one depicting the crucifixion. Whether carved or painted, the central theme of such altar-pieces has traditionally been fixed, whereas the side panels are hinged and can be swung forward. In the case of our college triptych, the three panels are fixed.

One of the most famous carved altar pieces is that by Til Riemenschneider in the St Jakobi Church in Rothenburg, Germany. Equally well known is the painted triptych by Matthias Gruenwald on the 'Isenheimer Altar' famous not because of the usually dominant central panel, but because of the side-panel on the right. It depicts John the Baptist pointing to Jesus as the dying Lamb of God with John's finger twice the normal size! It reminds the viewer of John's role as witness to Christ.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so not all who regularly worship in chapel may like our altar-piece. Beyond dispute is the fact that it is boldly executed, with vibrant colors. Clear also are the references to the passion story. The central panel depicts Jesus hanging on the cross, with two soldiers holding out a sheet in preparation for taking him down from the cross, suggesting that the Lord is either close to death or already dead. Strangely prominent in the right foreground is one of the two malefactors crucified with Jesus. Yet his figure (bloated in contrast to the emaciated body of Jesus), like the other malefactor who is only faintly depicted in the background on the left, remains somewhat unfinished, lacking definition and colour. In the background is also the suggestion of a huddle of weeping women.

The left hand panel recalls Peter's denial: the maid is accusing Peter of being Jesus' disciple, as a rooster crows on top of a mound. Two main figures also occupy the right hand panel: Judas pours his thirty pieces of silver at the feet of the chief priest whose gesture suggests rejection of responsibility (Matt 27:3-5).

The painting preaches silent sermons. Its main message, for me, is mediated by the hands. The maid's hand is stretched out to Peter in accusation, while he holds his hands over a warm fire in a pose which also suggests denial. The hands of Judas are stretched downward in hopeless despair, as the coins roll out onto the temple floor. In contrast, the high priest's hand is held high as if to suggest rejection of involvement or implication of guilt. And in the centre are the hands of the crucified Saviour, stretched out on the cross, yet embracing us guilty sinners with his forgiveness.

There is an interesting story behind the acquisition of this work. It was painted by noted Adelaide artist, John Dowie, now well into his eighties. Feted around the world as a sculptor, John Dowie's subjects include Queen Elizabeth II (a statue commissioned for the new parliament house in Canberra), Sir Edmund Hilary, Sir Robert Helpman, and Sir Marcus Oliphant. Other sculptures are part of Adelaide's landscape, from the prominent Victor Richardson Gates at Adelaide Oval and the figures representing South Australian rivers on the Victoria Square fountain, to the less prominent but no less delightful sculpture commissioned for Immanuel College, Novar Gardens.

For many years the altar-piece was kept in Mr Dowie's studio awaiting completion. It came to our attention after being shown in an exhibition of Christian art in North Adelaide in 1990. On our request, Mr Dowie loaned the work to Luther Campus, but did not see it in place in the chapel until over a year later, after he had suggested that we might like to buy the painting. I well remember him quietly sitting in a pew, being moved by his own work, and saying, 'I want you to have it; it belongs here'.

Its final purchase, at a fraction of its real commercial value, was made possible by the kindness of John Dowie himself and of a Queensland benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous. The artist has decided to leave the painting unfinished; perhaps there is special significance in the fact that it is the malefactor who remains 'unfinished'.

There may come a time when people will come to our chapel just to see the work of an internationally recognised artist. Hopefully it will speak its silent sermon to them also.

Dr Vic Pfitzner
Reprinted from Tangara 1997)

Updated: 15/8/2006 [1.00]

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A sermon in form and colour