They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means Place of a Skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. And they crucified him and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take. It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” And with him they crucified two rebels, one on his right and one on his left.
Mark 15:21-27 NRSV
All my life I’ve been familiar with depictions of the crucifixion. It is one of the most iconic scenes in all of Western culture and is probably instantly recognizable by most humans on earth, Christian or not. The central object of the crucifixion, the cross, is also seen everywhere, in countless contexts.
But since I started doing research on liturgical music almost twenty years ago, I’ve had the opportunity to see this fundamental moment of Christianity in a new light. In churches with extensive stained-glass windows or, as is the case in the Philippines where I work, paintings on ceilings, you might encounter a series of objects whose purpose is not clear at first glance. There is a pillar with a metal ring at the top. A hammer. Something that looks like a sponge on a stick. A set of dice.
Then it starts to make more sense. A bag of coins. A set of nails. A crown of thorns. These are all part of the story of the betrayal and crucifixion of Christ. The pillar where he was tied and whipped on the orders of Pontius Pilate. The hammer that hammered the nails into his hands and feet. The sponge soaked in vinegar that was offered to him on the cross. The dice that the Roman soldiers used to gamble for his robe.
There are many more: the sword that Peter wielded to cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant, a set of pincers to remove the nails, a ladder used to remove Christ from the cross, the lance that pierced his side. One of the most gruesome and most visceral is what looks like five fountains of some kind of reddish fluid. These are the five wounds suffered by Christ! They gush and flow with the violence he suffered.
These are known as the “Instruments of the Passion.” While we often focus on the people involved in and around the crucifixion, we rarely (with the exception of the cross) think about the inanimate objects, the tools, the paraphernalia. And yet these objects, as much or more than the people involved, bear witness to Christ’s sufferings.
When imagining ourselves in an historical event, we may say “what I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall.” But imagine being one of the Instruments of the Passion! What would have been experienced by the thirty pieces of silver. By the nails. By the crown of thorns.
But why are these objects depicted at all? All of these items are commonplace. Nails, hammers, ladders, coins, pillars, dice—none are worth a second thought in our own daily lives. But through a connection with Christ, even the most commonplace of things becomes meaningful.
David Kendall is a historical musicologist and Professor of Music at La Sierra University.