In a 16th-century painting titled The Lamentation around the Remains of Christ, the figure of Jesus is depicted surrounded by the women present at the crucifixion, angels, and a general sense of devotional grief signifying the connection between the natural and the supernatural (Fig 1). Yet, there is one significant particularity to this painting that makes it stand out from the plethora of Lamentation paintings depicting this same scene: in this painting, Jesus has breasts, hips, and what looks to be female anatomy (De Line). His hips are round, and his right hand rests over one of his breasts, drawing attention to it. The viewer is not presented with a scene where Jesus is himself a woman, surrounded by women. This subversion of the image of an anatomically “male” Jesus throughout the Catholic tradition is not uncommon; since historically, the image of Jesus only became “masculinized” in the Middle Ages. Apocryphal gospels such as the Gospel of Thomas indicate that both in scripture and in the practice of the early Jesus movement, the figure of Jesus was understood as one of fluidity that oscillated between binaries. That is to say, Jesus’ body was understood to be the in-between of life and death, holiness and humanity, and male and female.

This painting resides at the Museum of Notre Dame à la Rose in Belgium. Dated to the end of the 16th century, it is speculated to have been commissioned by Augustinian nuns. The painter is unknown (Valdes-Socin). The painting contains the figures of the women present at the crucifixion, according to the gospel of John: Mary mother of Jesus, is depicted in blue, left to Jesus’ body leaning in in a position suggesting sorrow. At Jesus’ feet, there is another woman, possibly Mary Magdalene due to her proximity to Jesus’ feet and the red clay container to anoint his dead body. There are two other women to his right, possibly the other Marys mentioned in the Gospel, and two angels at Jesus’s head. The garments of these figures consist mainly of red, green, and blue hues; with the only contrast being their pale skin. Because of this colorful composition, the paleness of Jesus’ uncovered body draws the attention of the observer to his chest and legs: indicating that the creator of this piece wanted to draw attention to the feminization of Jesus’ body in comparison to the more pious garments worn by every single other figure present in this piece.  As aforementioned, this painting speaks to the theological understanding of a feminized version of Jesus; one that resembles the “motherly” qualities adjudicated to Mary through the symbolism of salvation. Despite what contemporary understandings of Catholicism lead to believe in terms of the gender binaries being explicitly defined in the Bible, the ideas of Jesus as a genderfluid figure were widely accepted and followed by various Biblical scholars since antiquity.

Similarly, I’d like to draw attention to another aspect of Jesus’s corporeality within artistic depictions in the Catholic tradition, that points towards a desire from believers to view him as a genderfluid or feminized being: the side wound. The side wound is the laceration on Jesus’ side that kills him during the crucifixion in the gospel of John. This Gospel states, that when the Roman soldiers pierced Jesus’s side blood and water poured out (John 19:35). This became an image with a cult-like following during the Middle Ages due to illuminated devotional books depicting it as the center of the Passion of Christ; despite the side wound only being present in one out of four gospels recounting this event. The wound is presented as disembodied, standing on its own, usually framed by the instruments utilized in the crucifixion (fig 2). The disembodiment of the side wound in these prayer books was intended to evoke a sense of affective piety in the readers; a kind of relatability to the suffering of Jesus in a heavily corporeal way. Throughout the Middle Ages, there was an uptake in the emphasis of Jesus’s physical body as the epicenter for salvation: something that transformed, slowly, Catholicism into a religion that heavily centers itself around ideas of the body.  This focus on the physicality of the divine was present through tangible objects of devotion such as reliquaries; wood or metal frames containing relics (such as locks of hair believed to belong to saints) or paintings depicting Biblical stories, particularly of the passion, illuminated manuscripts, prayer and meditation books, and intricate interactive shrines that adorned the private space of one’s home. This focus on the wounds of Jesus was present in the practices of multiple Catholic saints and mystics who deposited their belief in the “humanization of God” through the wounding of Jesus’ body. Thus, further reinstating the ideal of Jesus’ body (the natural) was the embodiment of God on earth (the supernatural): and the fact that he was so human, human enough to be wounded and killed, meant that he was inversely, just as sacred and holy: perpetually oscillating between these states of being.

Now, the idea of the side wound became one of great discourse; for the worshipping of it is anything but canonical. There have been discussions in theological academic circles on the side wound’s nature as a vaginal symbol that stands for the “motherly” qualities of Jesus’ body: healing, feeding, and nurturing. The illustrated devotion books also sometimes included instructions telling the reader to “taste, touch, suck, kiss and enter into Christ’s side wound” (Hollywood 181). The devotion to the side wound has also gained traction in recent years in online communities of catholic converts and reverts, particularly young educated women, who find solace in the idea of a feminized Christ that takes the position of a mother, rather than a savior. These ideas originally posed (and now contested) by Luce Irigaray, demonstrate the evolving discourse surrounding what we understand sexuality and sacrality to be in contemporary and historical discussions.

What do these artistic productions tell us, then, about the devotional aspects behind their creation? The Lamentation painting (fig 1), although anonymous, is believed to have been commissioned by an order of Augustinian nuns: Augustinian nunneries are sometimes cloistered spaces, where one can assume adoration of images of Jesus occurs. This painting in particular, speaks to the inherent need to recognize oneself in the face of divinity. Nunneries, although predominantly women-led spaces, focus on the adoration of historically masculine symbols: Jesus, God, and others among the tradition. Yet, what if these Augustine nuns wanted to see something closer to themselves represented in their devotional images? Similarly, with the cult surrounding the devotion towards the side wound, this feminization became a point of identification for medieval women; a source of adoration that was centered on the tangible body. The idea of Jesus as a figure that can traverse death and life, holiness and mortality, and so on for the purpose of “love” and “salvation”, thus also indicates that he can oscillate between the gender binary depending on the needs (or desires) of his believers. This process of self-identification with religious figures makes adoration something that is deeply personal; where the self is reflected in the idea of salvation. Moreover, humanity was allegedly “made in Gods image”, therefore, other gender expressions outside of masculinity can fit within the narrative of creation. Faith ultimately becomes a practice where one sees themselves reflected in.



Fig 1: Anonymous painter, The Lamentation around the remains of Christ, c. late-sixteenth century, oil on wood. Collection of the Museum of Notre-Dame à la Rose Hospital, Lessines, Belgium. Photo credit: Francis Vauban.


Fig 2: Jean le Noir, Bourgot and workshop, Miniature of Christ’s Side Wound and Instruments of the Passion, folio 331r, in the Prayer Book of Bonne of Luxembourg, before 1349 (The Cloisters Collection).

De Line, Sebastian. “The Unnamed Genderfluid Figure: Transgender and Intersex Interpretations         of Medieval Christian Art.” Agnes Etherington Art Centre, 2024,                
    agnes.queensu.ca/highlight/unnamed-genderfluid-figure/. 

Doyle,  Dr. Maeve K. "Mysticism and queer readings of Christ’s Side Wound in the Prayer Book of
    Bonne of Luxembourg," in Smarthistory. https://smarthistory.org/jean-le-noir-bourgot-miniature-    of-christ-wound-passion-prayer-book-bonne-luxembourg/.

Hollywood, Amy. “That Glorious Slit”. Acute melancholia and other essays: Mysticism, history, and
    the study of religion. Columbia University Press, 2016.

Valdes-Socin and M. Vuider, “The androgyny of Christ,” Journal of Endocrinological Investigation
    (2021): 44: 1125. https://doi.org/10.1007/s40618-020-01413-3