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By ks. Andrzej Trojanowski TChr,
An elderly woman known for her unselfish work with the sick and marginalized of Paris, France, recently handed me a number of photographs taken by her friend M. Vaissier, a resident of Toulouse. They are reproductions of a small drawing (measuring 14.5 x 20.5 cm), representing the face of the Crucified Christ. Attached to the photos is the history of the original drawing along with Vaissier’s account of the events related to the copies. The story is intriguing and deserves to be told. The story begins on the Feast of St. Joseph, March 19, 1983. A resident of Marseilles, Syssel Cymer, found herself caught in the pouring rain not far from her home. While standing before a statue of the Madonna placed in a stone niche, she caught sight of a piece of paper soaking in a puddle in the middle of the street. To her surprise she saw that the sheet bore an image of the Suffering Christ. She was the more surprised when she noticed that the image was completely dry and undamaged, while the reverse side of the paper was soiled and marked with footprints and car tires. She informed a priest friend of her extraordinary find. The priest commissioned Vaissier to make copies of the drawing. The photographer made an extra copy for himself, set it aside, and later forgot about it. It surfaced again almost eight years later. He made two more copies and offered them as gifts to two people: the priest and a friend of his, Paul Soos, who had commissioned him to make a copy of an icon of Our Lady. Surprised by the gift, the priest reminded Vaissier that it was he who had commissioned him to photograph the drawing. Paul Soos hung the reproduction of Christ next to the icon of Our Lady in his private chapel. On December 6, 1991, Jesus’ eyes began to shed bloodstained tears, which gave off a pleasant odor. Moved by this event, Vaissier resolved to track down the author of the drawing. He borrowed the original from Syssel Cymer and deciphered the signature scribbled in the bottom corner: “Etiennette Gilles.” Next, he discovered that a woman by this name had died over a decade ago. He also managed to ascertain with a high degree of probability that the drawing had been modeled on a wood sculpture of the Crucified Christ found in Limpias, Spain — the work of a seventeenth century artist, Pierre de Men, and known to the locals as The Most Blessed Christ in Agony. In early 1992, Paul Soos gave his copy of the Crucified Christ to a friend and in its place hung up another he had received from Vaissier. On February 2, 1994, in the presence of those praying there, rivulets of blood began to flow from the wounds of Jesus’ crowned head. Like the tears flowing from the eyes, the blood was perfectly visible on the photograph. Such are the facts; but the question of their significance we must answer for ourselves. We can now see the various reactions of people to the events here described. More and more people see in them a call to deepen their spiritual life through prayer and the sacraments. They recognize in this image the same message that flows from the Cross. They are convinced of the authenticity of this sign, which carries a message of vital importance to the world today — a humanity alienated from God and the truth about itself, insensitive to God’s love, and heedless of the present and eternal consequences of its sins. Those who venerate the image see in it yet another proof of Christ’s love and concern for a humanity that confronts the specter of a catastrophe of its own making through something it calls “progress” — progress achieved at the cost of excluding God from our lives; of betraying truth in so many of its everyday manifestations; of destroying our human nature and dignity through sexual perversion, abortion, euthanasia, terrorism, and wars. Humbly enduring charges of naïve and foolish superstition, these people see in the blood and tears of Christ a sign of God suffering in His boundless love for mankind. A love that not only gave itself up to death by crucifixion but continues to be spurned and repulsed to this day; indeed now more than ever. When love is trampled underfoot and dishonored, it manifests itself in blood and tears. This is the language of love, which Christ speaks through His image. Without depriving us of his freedom or forcing our conversion, He calls upon us to come to our senses! Those who are scandalized by His blood and tears, He seems to point in the direction of the Cross, for it was the Cross that scandalized us first. Let me say it again: each one of us must interpret the facts for himself. The greatness of man rests in his ability to make choices. But freedom is also responsibility. Responsibility, ultimately, for his own salvation as well as of others, on whom, for good or ill, whether he is aware of it or not, his moral choices have a real impact. Those who respond to such signs of Christ’s love with repentance and conversion undoubtedly help to mitigate the tragic consequences of humanity’s evil choices. Usually invisible, meek, silent, and not infrequently ridiculed, these souls are a true blessing to the world. They rely not on their own achievements, but on the power of the Cross of Christ, which alone brings life and salvation. The face of Christ enchants the viewer with its noble beauty, dignity, and harmony of line. Above all, it enchants by its depth of suffering. The profound peace expressed in the image sets our mind at rest. Its tenderness inspires instant trust. The reality of the experience makes us believe we are understood. In a word, the picture touches the heart. It arouses in us a desire to cling to Jesus, to Love Incarnate, which is here most poignantly manifested in all its beauty, harmony, allure, consolation, and understanding. Christ’s image is God’s message of love without words. In a world where “love” means so little to man, Jesus is the Divine Word speaking to him in manifold ways. The crown of thorns, the blood, the tears testify to the supreme injustice of our sins. Where does our distrust of God come from? Whence spring the suspicions that He deceives us and that His commandments deprive us of material goods? Whence comes the perceived threat of His presence to families, to community life, to politics and the media? One look at the face of Christ is enough to show us the absurdity of these fears and charges. Jesus seems to be saying: “You prefer to believe Satan whose hatred of me prompts him to distort my true image in your hearts. See for yourselves if there is any deceit, falsehood, or evil intent in my face. Look and see in me the Father’s boundless love for you all! This love will cleanse you of your sins and make you truly happy, if only you approach it with absolute trust.”
Fr. Andrzej Trojanowski SChr Published in February 2012.
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