Day 7 - More precious than gold leaf
- Congregational Federation
- Feb 24
- 3 min read

Cain and Abel (after Durer) by Matthew Weir 2022 Sheffield Museums Trust
Genesis 4: 1-16
If you saw this picture in an art gallery I wonder if you’d pay it any attention? Would you treat it like a hundred other, rather dull, historical prints and walk on by. It’s a new acquisition for Sheffield Museums and many people do just that. Now, what if I told you that the artist Matthew Weir copied a Durer print but used his own blood to paint it. Would it pull you in or repulse you, or maybe both at the same time?
Humanity’s relationship with blood is complex. It is the stuff of life. When I talked to Matthew on the phone, he said that he was fascinated that the blood pumping around his veins was moving the hand that was at the same time painting with his blood. However, when it leaves the body, when it is no longer contained, blood is associated with death. Cain kills his brother Abel either out of jealousy, wounded pride or fear that Abel’s agricultural lifestyle might overtake his nomadic one. Abel’s blood cries out to God from the ground, which reminds me of all those news reports which show blood on the pavements because there are strict Ofcom rules about how much death can be shown on TV. The American comedy drama MASH set in the Korean War but filmed while the Vietnam War was at its height made sure that the doctors were smeared with blood in every episode. Viewers were forced to confront the realities of war. God asks Cain where his brother is and Cain replies ‘am I my brother’s keeper?’ The answer of course is yes, we are each other’s keeper. Bloodshed is not something we should become used to or simply pass by. Matthew Weir is reminding us of the horror of that first, biblical murder and violence of our own age.
To create this work Matthew made a small incision on one hand and then used a very fine brush to paint. He made sure that he wasn’t upset or angry when he painted so that it didn’t become an act of self-harm. I wonder whether creating something new, on some level, means loss, pain or sacrifice? Blood is also present at birth. Certainly, it made the acquisition interesting for Sheffield Museums because you cannot trade in genetic or biological material, so it had to donated with lots of extra paperwork.
So, I reflect upon the cross of Jesus which both repels us and pulls us in. I think it should do both at once. Upon the cross we see not only the innocent death of Jesus but the blood of all the victims of war and violence - yesterday and today. Their blood cries out to God and on the cross God both hears and responds. At the same time, I trust that through Jesus’ life and death something beautiful and new is being created. This bloodshed, this loss, is bringing to birth a kingdom. Ultimately, it’s the love of Jesus that pulls me in.
What will stay with me from our phone conversation is one sentence from Matthew: "I think blood,” he said, “is more precious that gold leaf". Amen to that.
Prayer
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’re his Body on the tree,
Then am I dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me (Isaac Watts)
Jesus, it is not fashionable to talk of your blood shed upon the cross. It seems to belong to the old Sankey songbooks. Yet, your cross takes up the cries of the victims of violence that are hidden or that we fail to stop and see. This week help us learn a name of once such victim so that we give to a charity or pray for them. Remind us that, yes, we are each other’s keeper. We dare to look at the cross and feel the horror of it but also the courageous love that took you there. We pray for new hope, new peace, new life within us and around us. We try to understand what that newness cost you. Your blood is more precious than gold leaf. Amen.
Suzanne Nockels

Comments