Ambushed in Il Gesù (Creative Writing Assignment #11)

From a distance and through the pulsing rain, Il Gesù presents itself as a sober, colorless church that crouches among the smaller commercial buildings of the Via del Plebiscito. There seems to be no intention in its grey, expressionless façade, which blends into the leaden sky behind it. As the viewer draws closer, jumping over puddles, details begin to materialize out of the slick, wet marble. Ascending the stairs at the entrance, the viewer lifts his head and notices that two stone figures have appeared on either side of the doors, as if they had just stepped out from the shadows of their niches. As his view travels down the flowing robes of these holy men, he is suddenly confronted with the first of many unexpected images, for under the boot of the stern figure is the body of a naked woman. Her anguished face projects out of the church at the viewer. Her breasts are squeezed against the stone ledge, so that they also protrude toward the steps. It is this woman’s face that looks at him, not the stern face of the Jesuit holy man. It is with her that the viewer is meant to identify. So here at the beginning of the journey, the viewer is at once being tempted and chastised for in one moment we may see an object of lust and the wretchedness that it will cause. This is foreshadowing for all the sensations that Il Gesù will impose upon those who enter.

Inside, trying to squeegee off the rain, one might not immediately look up. But Il Gesù is prepared to wait. For none can resist the eventual urge to follow the red pillars to the cosmic battle that rages above. Here one can see figures radiating outward from the name of Jesus, an asymmetrical sun drooping with the putrid weight of its radian of sinners. This mass of flesh tumbles downward, further into the church and toward the void where the dome soars upward from the ceiling. As his eye traces their fluttering bodies, the viewer hears the low growl of thunder outside. Somewhere in the depths of the church a hungry, antediluvian beast awaits these sinners. Staring at the trajectory of these doomed souls the viewer suddenly realizes that their course downward along the churches ceiling directly mirrors his own. Again, he sees that Il Gesù has made a judgment about him and it intentions to speak to him of this through form and surprise.

Further into the church, the viewer passes chapels that stand as islands of sanctuary amid the visual assault that constitutes the decoration of the church. But just as Eden has been blocked against the entrance of fallen men, so too have these shelters been barred with rough wooden railings. Il Gesù intentionally allows the viewer to glimpse these grottos hidden from the pandemonium, only to raise a stiff arm in denial. So he stares eagerly from behind the gate. As he stares through the dim, musty air he begins to focus upon the shadowed forms. A delicate woman bearing a cross looks down before her into the shadows that lay like bodies under a new fallen snow of coal. This is comforting, except for the sliver of malice that is barely discernable in her face. Following her eyes he perceives with a sense of betrayal for being tricked again, that she is kicking at two disheveled figures. The skin on their arms is like the exoskeleton of a molting dragonfly; it hangs loose with the fine wrinkles that one can only find in a material that is micrometers thin. One of these crouching figures shields himself with his arm while the other tumbles backward, as a serpent coils itself around his writhing body. The viewer again stands closest to these two figures. Who else can he identify himself with but them. Now the viewer has begun to feel uncomfortable, as he knows that Il Gesù has meant for him to. The condemning foot of Il Gesù is casting a shadow over him, and he has begun to cower. But he goes on forward.

The church seems to extend itself as the viewer walks, the bright altar receding, tunneling into Rome. To one side in a chapel he sees a painted statue of Christ on the cross. Fully illuminated with artificial light he can see the vulgar, scarlet blood painted onto Christ’s hands. His look of complete anguish. After Il Gesù has pointed the finger of sin at the viewer, it highlights exactly what this has cost IHS.

In the end of this long preparation, Il Gesù leads the viewer to the altar. He has since become a sinner, kicked and stepped upon, blamed for the flesh ripping torture of the world’s most famous death. He is led to the point of light that has shone as a confident beacon all throughout his journey. It is blindingly golden, and it seems as if this gold itself casts away the darkness that would otherwise conceal the awkward painting that hangs above. The viewer examines the figures, and for sometime he believes himself to be starring at a vision of the birth of Jesus. But if he is clever he will see the final machination. The painting represents the circumcision of Christ. This is stranger than anything before, but it ties together everything that he has already seen. Here Jesus undergoes the traditional male sacrifice. He is not being kicked or stepped on but he is sacrificing the symbol of his reproductive power to the God of Israel. The viewer stands for a while, this is what the patriarchal Il Gesù has been driving towards, submission to God and therefore submission to Il Gesù. Now the viewer may flee the angry titan, or he may bow in submission. But the foot can be seen falling forward, the IHS bounded by radiating spears of gold. Now it is the viewer’s turn to show his intention.