Working Idea

This Image is from the Divine Comedy

 

The Divine Comedy an amazing book with a great understandment for madness, I read the book to give me a grated knowledge , as my group and I are working towards a theme which is donates inferno, As I was reading thought I found this image that leaped out at me. An idea that I could realize with the paper sculpture it can be relives with this image to a referents point to what I can invasion. But with research I found that this image has a story and I thought it would be good to know more about the work before I continue with my idea.  

A central pillar of the Christian religion is the notion that sins will incur God’s wrath, and will therefore result in punishment after the death of the sinner. This idea of divine justice is always connected with the sin that has the strongest pull on the sinner’s soul, and can thus either be seen in most of his actions, or can be found in his most outrageous ones. Thought the exact mechanics of celestial retribution can become very complicated in some cases, the basic norm which sets the format is that the penalty must either bring the sinner under some consequence of his own sin in a way which causes physical torment, or assail him with physical torments that are antipodal to the central characteristic of his sin. Both paradigms are conjoined in the idea of contrapasso or counter-penalty, which stretches as a backbone for two thirds of the Divine Comedy and is the force behind most of the scenes of anguish so vividly depicted by Dante’s pen.

 

The first paradigm is applied to those unrepentant sinners who must endure through the eternal sufferings of the Inferno. Theirs is the way of everlasting damnation, for not only did they sin; they also failed to recognize their sins and atone while they still lived. For this they are condemned to succumb to the strength of divine justice, always lost inside the chasm reserved for the sin which took hold of them, prisoners there until the end of all creation, as is evidenced by the inscription found on the portal through which they all must pass.

“Through me the way into the suffering city, through me the way to the eternal pain, through me the way that runs among the lost. Justice urged on my high artificer; my maker was divine authority, the highest wisdom and the primal love. Before me nothing but eternal things were made and I endure eternally. Abandon every hope, who enter here” (Divine Comedy, Inferno III, 1-9)

 

The logic of infernal punishment is easily explained by having a look at Dante’s portrayal of the Second Circle of the Inferno, the one which holds all those who lost their senses under the power of lust. As Dante passes the demon judge Minos, he reaches a place “[…] where every light is muted, which bellows like the sea beneath a tempest, when it is battered by opposing winds. The hellish hurricane, which never rests, drives on the spirits with its violence: wheeling and pounding it harasses them.” (Divine Comedy, Inferno V, 28-33) The description is one reminiscent of ancient fury, such as Poseidon’s mighty wrath upon some ship of sailors that have transgressed against him. The howl of the wind making its force felt in the stark darkness creates a desolate, oppressive setting for the punishment of the lustful as they are thrown about “[…] now here, now there, now down, now up […]” (Divine Comedy, Inferno V, 43) at the whim of the bluster. For as they let themselves be thrown about by passion, so are they now eternally hammered by the hellish blast of air. And as they let that passion blind them from seeing reason, so are they now immersed in all encompassing darkness. Such is the measure of the castigation endured by Francesca and her lover, “[…] those two who go together there and seem so lightly carried by the wind.” (Divine Comedy, Inferno V, 74-75) Their sin is to have let themselves be tempted by the other’s flesh, desire one another and act upon it against the confines of the rite of marriage. And for this sin they paid in life by having it taken away, as they pay for it now in death, for all of time.

 

“Love, that releases no beloved from loving, took hold of me so strongly through his beauty that, as you see it has not left me yet. Love led the two of us onto one death” (Divine Comedy, Inferno V, 103-106)

 

In the divinely ordained grand scheme of good and evil, counter-penalty plays the part of heavenly dragoman, translating the central concept of God’s wrathful justice into the particular means of castigation connected with specific sins. It is the normative blue-print dictating the way in which the wicked must pay for their sin and lack of faith. As such, it is intimately joined with the concept of divine justice, which, in the case of those forever trapped in Hell, is simply put the confinement of the soul within a setting dominated by some externalized attribute of that sin which opened the door to damnation, allowing for nothing more than agonized lamentation over the sinner’s own sorry state. For as Francesca declares, for her

 

“There is no greater sorrow than thinking back upon a happy time in misery […]” (Divine Comedy, Inferno V, 121-122)

 

The second paradigm is applied to those repentant sinners who must endure the cleansing suffering of Purgatory. Theirs is the upward movement towards the spheres of Heaven, for although they have sinned, they also recognized their transgressions and asked for forgiveness from their Lord while they still held their flesh. In doing this they gained the hope of one day setting their eyes upon the light of God by expiating their sins on the purifying terraces of Purgatory, thus ensuring for themselves, upon their death, a softer landing upon a far more welcoming shore than that of the river Acheron.

“Therefore, I, who had turned then to the shore at which the Tiber’s waters mix with salt, was gathered in by his benevolence. Straight to that river mouth he set his wings: that always is the place of gathering for those who do not sink to Acheron.” (Divine Comedy, Purgatory III, 100-105)

 

The means for heavenly ascent can clearly be seen upon the ring of the First Terrace of Purgatory, where those whose pride raised them above all others must now bow down, bent by the weight of mighty stones. The sin of all here is to not have borne the burden of humility while they still walked the earth and so they do it now, until God has been satisfied with their contrition. They slowly turn around the largest circle of the mountain, step after step of sweaty crushing crawl, feeling the pain of every move upon their backs, they bear it all.

 

“They were indeed bent down – some less, some more – according to the weights their backs now bore; and even he whose aspect showed most patience, in tears, appeared to say ‘I can no more’” (Divine Comedy, Purgatory X, 136-139)

 

For these sinners, the anguish endured is not a sign of Heaven’s castigation, but rather of the willful chastising of their sin. Where in Hell there was only lament at one’s current miserable state, here the souls use all their strength to carry the weight placed on their backs and lament not, but accept the purifying pain as a true sign of their penitence. While doing so they thank their maker and appeal to him on behalf of those they left behind, for the souls inching their way round the mountain have been touched by the soft and sweet embrace of hope, and know that they will eventually shed their weight and tread upon the spheres of Heaven.

“Even as we forgive all who have done us injury, may You, benevolent, forgive, and do not judge us by our worth. Try not our strength, so easily subdued, against the ancient foe, but set it free from him who goads it to perversity. This last request we now address to You, dear Lord, not for ourselves – who have no need – but for the ones whom we have left behind” (Divine Comedy, Purgatory XI, 16-24)

 

For those that make their penance upon the terraced ground of Purgatory, counter-penalty wears the attire of a harsh tutor which serves some torturous lessons, but does so not by the decree of vengeful wrath, but by the warm munificence of Heaven’s master, who has already unlocked the gates that lead to his great house, and only waits for those souls to shed their burden and sprout the wings which will lift them to him. In having such a role, here too is counter-penalty tied closely to divine justice, which now only asks that souls pay their just fee for passing into heaven, and cleanse themselves of worldly sin so that they may be pure enough to bathe in God’s bright light.

The trick shot used by Christianity to try and pocket all the balls on the table in the great game of eight-ball that had as stakes the faith of medieval Florentines can now be deconstructed and laid bare with Dante’s Comedy as guide. The balls are racked and God takes his mighty shot, hitting the white cue ball of his divine justice with thunderous force and mythical grace, making it roll on the green felt with admirable precision and hitting the rack of balls dead on. Upon the glorious collision which disperses the spheres around the table, the white ball, having been endowed with the spin effect of contrapasso, hits the seven striped balls of deadly sins consecutively, ricocheting into the cushions after each hit, so as to touch each ball in a specific manner. The splendid choreography of celestial geometry continues as each of the seven striped balls, having received from their contact with the powerful cue ball the strong rolling effect of fear, hits one of the seven solid balls of Christian virtue, so that only seconds after the first shot all fourteen spheres can be seen resting in some pocket or another and the game seems to be won. But something goes amiss with the divine prediction, a great plague hits the table with a violent motion, and under its crushing blow, the white ball looses speed and slowly rolls toward one of the pockets, it teeters on the edge for just a moment, but then it finally falls in. The game is lost, but one ball still remains untouched and on the green, the black one which directs the Intellect of man can still be seen.

“O you who honor art and science both, who are these souls whose dignity has kept their way of being separate from the rest? […] The honor of their name which echoes up above within your life, gains Heaven’s grace, and that advances them. […] That shade is Homer, the consummate poet; the other one is Horace, satirist; the third is Ovid, and the last is Lucan. […] When I had raised my eyes a little higher, I saw the master of the men who know, seated in philosophic family. There all look up to him, all do him honor: there I beheld both Socrates and Plato, closest to him, in front of all the rest; Democritus, who ascribes the world to chance, Diogenes, Empedocles, and Zeno, and Thales, Anaxagoras, Heraclitus; I saw the good collector of medicinals, I mean Dioscorides; and I saw Orpheus, and Tully, Linus, moral Seneca; and Euclid the geometer, and Ptolemy, Hippocrates and Galen, Avicenna, Averroes, of the great Commentary.” (Divine Comedy, Inferno IV, 73-78, 88-90, 130-144)

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