The Volto Santo

A few weeks ago, while on our trip to Italy, we visited Lucca. In the Tuscany region, Lucca is believed to have been founded around 180 BC. It is a beautiful place, and I highly recommend it if you ever visit the Tuscany region.

The Cathedral of St. Martin is located within the city’s walled area. Inside the cathedral is the Chapel of the Holy Face, or the Volto Santo, also known as the Holy Cross. The small chapel contains a walnut crucifix showing Christ wearing a tunic. Yet it is the face, the Volto Santo, that grabbed me.

Like all old relics, the Volto Santo is surrounded by history, legend, and folk tradition. Legend has it that the Volto Santo was sculpted by Nicodemus, Jesus’ disciple who asked for his Teacher’s body after the crucifixion so that he might bury it. Nicodemus is believed to have carved a wooden image of the Savior, but he could go no further when he got to the face. The facial features of Christ are said to have been completed by Divine Intervention. Seven centuries after Nicodemus carved the image, Bishop Walafrid learned of the carving in a dream while on a pilgrimage in Jerusalem and procured the crucifix. Leaving it up to Divine Providence, he put the carving on a boat with neither crew nor captain and set it free. Here, Bishop John of Lucca, notified by an angel during a dream, found the ship and its precious cargo off the port of Luni. After an argument ensued about where the crucifix should find its home, an agreement was made to place it on a wagon drawn by two untamed bulls. Upon being set free, the bulls began their way toward Lucca, where the crucifix has found its home ever since.

Whether the tradition is true or not, the face itself is striking. It is an image of the face of Christ which compels introspection and contemplation. The eyes, the drawn-out face, what was He thinking here? Could it be that it was here that He uttered the words,

“Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

-Lk 23:34

Nicodemus is one of my favorite characters in the New Testament. I can relate to him, someone who was on a journey. We first see him in the third chapter of John’s Gospel when he approaches Jesus at night. What is it about this meeting at night, when no one can see him approaching and where shadows can’t be exposed?

How often do I approach Jesus “at night?” How frequently do I use the cover of the darkness to hide from the sight of others so they don’t see me speak with my Savior? How often I am still unsure of the saving power of Christ, and I only approach Him when I think He can’t see my sins. I approach Him when I believe my shadows are safe, hidden in the dark. It is good that I approach Him, but doing so in the dark is safe.

The second time we hear from Nicodemus is in the 7th Chapter of John’s Gospel when he reminds the Pharisees that the law requires someone to be heard before being judged. I would sometimes use “the law” to advocate for Jesus. It is easier because it doesn’t involve a conversion within my heart. It is an outward and vocal sign of faith but one step removed from communion because it lacks signs of an intimate relationship with Christ and, therefore, with others.

Finally, we hear Nicodemus a third time in the 19th Chapter of John’s Gospel when, along with Joseph Arimathea, he requests the body of Jesus after His death on the cross. There have been a few times in my life when my reputation has been threatened, my image within a community has been tarnished, and my beliefs have been labeled and dismissed as naïve and simple, all because I choose to “take His body” no matter what the costs.

The story of Nicodemus provides excellent insight into my conversion. From curiosity about Christ’s teaching, which I can access safely at night, to the beginning of upholding my faith by resting everything on the law, to the recognition that the most important thing is the relationship with Jesus, no matter what the cost, this continuing conversion, this constant immersion into Truth, has been and continues to be the journey of my own faith. It is always ongoing and never finished.

Looking at the Volto Santo in Lucca has reminded me once again of my baptism, for it has reminded me of the answer that Nicodemus got from Jesus when he approached Him at night. Being born again through “water and Spirit” is not a one-time thing but a daily act. A daily act that moves us from the shadows to the light. From death to life. A journey that moves from “not knowing what I do” to coming to see everything through the lens of faith.