For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.
Galatians 5:1 (NRSV)
Escaping Criticism by Pere Borrell del Caso (1874)
Oil on canvas, 76cm x 61cm, Bank of Spain
Pere Borrell del Caso (1835-1910) was born and grew up in Catalonia in Spain, not far from the Spanish border. In his early years he worked alongside his father as a carpenter, before leaving home to attend the prestigious Escola de la Llotja in Barcelona where he became interested in the optical device known in Spain as trampantojo, better know to us in the French, trompe-l’oeil. Here he set about developing his art, art which would trick the eye of the viewer.
The work shown depicts a somewhat poorly dressed and dishevelled young fellow appearing to climb free from the confines of the frame. Although seen as one of del Caso’s ‘non-religious’ paintings, Fugint de la critica (Escaping Criticism), always appears in my mind whenever I hear Wesley’s great hymn, And can it be, and in particular the marvellous words, ‘My chains fell off, my heart was free. I rose, went forth, and followed Thee’.
As mentioned in a recent sermon by Rev. John Cartwright at the Federation offices in Nottingham; as Christians, as true Christians, this is surely what it is all about. Upon realising that Christ died to take away our sins, if we can throw off our chains, truly throw them off, then nothing else matters. We can give ourselves in completeness to the Lord and we can never again be shackled by earthly pressures. We can, in Wesley’s words, claim the crown through Christ, our own.
This is true freedom.
We have been shown the way. Why then do so many this one step so difficult to take?
And can it be that I should gain
An int'rest in the Saviour's blood?
Died He for me, who caused His pain?
For me, who Him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That Thou, my God, should die for me?
And can it be that I should gain by Charles Wesley
Am I a stone and not a sheep
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Good Friday by Christina Rossetti
Gwyn Davies
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