Chapter I

The Cross

Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" cried the dying man. "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Matt. 27:46). This forlorn reproach was delivered from a hillside on the periphery of the Roman Empire, in a strange tongue unknown to the vast majority of its subjects, by a condemned man of profound obscurity who had an alien belief in a single God. A darkening sky; a claim that the veil in the Temple of Solomon, far down the slope from the execution ground, was "rent in twain" at the moment of death; a strange earthquake, mentioned only in Matthew's gospel, that split open rocks and opened tombs but did no damage to buildings--the Father's response to the crucifixion of the Son was modest even in the Gospels that proclaimed it.

Human reaction was as muted. The Roman governor who had authorized the
execution--with such extreme reluctance that some Christians later honored
his memory with a feast day--marveled only that Jesus had died so swiftly,
in little more than three hours. To the soldiers who carried it out, the
crucifixion was mere routine, a standard punishment for slaves and
non-Romans, that ended in the traditional perk of sharing out the victim's
clothes. The priests who had demanded the death noted with sarcastic
satisfaction: "he saved others, himself he cannot save" (Matt. 27:42). No
disciple or relative was bold enough to claim the body for burial. He had
been almost recklessly brave at his trial; they had expected miracles at
his death, and none had occurred. They hid their ebbing belief behind
barred doors in the steep streets of Jerusalem.

The painters and sculptors who were to fill the world...