The Shroud: A Western, Late-Medieval Iconography

by Marco Corvaglia

The subject of the image

The Shroud of Turin appeared in 1355-1356 in Lirey, France.

When the Shroud appeared in Lirey, the depiction of the sufferings of the Passion constituted a relatively recent theme (until the 11th-12th centuries, Christ was always portrayed as triumphant on the cross, without the crown of thorns, with his body and head upright, even in the rare cases when he appeared with his eyes closed).

One of Europe's leading experts on the iconography of Jesus, Dominican François Bœspflug, Professor Emeritus at the University of Strasbourg, writes:

In the 12th century [...], there is a prior unseen emphasis on Christ's suffering during His Passion. It is, as it were, the birth of suffering in Christian art, and the East was the forerunner.

[François Bœspflug, Dieu et ses images. Une histoire de l'Éternel dans l'art, Bayard, 2017, p. 134]

Two examples of new high medieval iconographic trends: 11th century mosaic from the Monastery of Hosios Lukas in Phocis: Christ's head is leaning to the right, his body arched, and blood flows from each of the five wounds of the crucifixion; Akrà Tapinosis (Great Humiliation), second half of the 12th century (Museum of Icons, Kastoria, Greek Macedonia).

Additionally, beginning in the 12th century, depictions of Christ deceased and stretched out on the burial shroud gained in popularity.

Epitaphios (a type of liturgical veil) of King Stefan Uros II Milutin of Serbia, c. 1321 (Serbian Orthodox Church Museum, Belgrade).

Sindologists are unable to provide proof of the existence of the Shroud before the second half of the 14th century, but (as we have seen from the Pray Codex) hypothesize that the Shroud itself may have signaled the beginning of these emerging iconographic trends [see, for example: A. Caccese, E. Marinelli, L. Provera, D. Repice, Il Mandylion a Costantinopoli (English version available online), in E. Marinelli (ed.), Nuova luce sulla Sindone, Ares, 2024, pp. 107-113].

In the absence of historical confirmation of any other kind, however, this means using a circular argument, which presents as a premise what's actually a thesis that requires proving (i.e., the existence of the Shroud before its appearance in the second half of the 14th century).

Instead, a timeline of historically-ascertained events compels us to begin with the hypothesis that the Shroud itself is an expression and proliferation of these iconographic trends.

According to Italy's most well-known shroud apologist, Emanuela Marinelli, “the research and analysis performed on the relic have ruled out, with absolute certainty, any possibility of creation by artistic means" [L. Zerbini, E. Marinelli, La Sindone. Storia e misteri, Odoya, 2017, p. 155].

This will be true when we read it, under the heading of “Shroud,” in trusted encyclopedias (and bear in mind that the last direct examination of the properties of the image on the cloth dates back to 1978).

In the meantime, it's important to see whether a rigorously documented and universally understandable historical-iconographic analysis reinforces or contradicts certain sindonologists' claims of a seemingly scientific nature, which a non-expert can only believe through pure reliance and trust.

Blood and wounds

Let's begin by recognizing that all the images that sindologists assume would be the most immediate derivations of the Shroud (depictions of a deceased Christ in Eastern Christianity) are actually lacking the element that best characterizes the Shroud, namely the presentation of the scourged Christ.

On the Shroud, in fact, there are more than one hundred signs of beatings and torture, all over the body: on the forehead and on the nape of the neck there are no visible wounds but, rather, rivulets of blood that sindonologists interpret as the effect of a helmet-shaped crown of thorns, but this is far from certain, as even a circular crown, if large, would fall down to the nape of the neck; in the suprascapular and scapular areas, right and left, there seem to be signs of abrasions linked to the carrying of the cross, in its entirety, first on one shoulder and then on the other [cf. M. Bevilacqua, G. Fanti, M D'Arienzo, New Light on the Sufferings and the Burial of the Turin Shroud Man, "Open Journal of Trauma", 1, May 2017, pp. 48-49].

When and where the artistic representation of the scourged Christ proliferated instead?

Right where the Shroud would later appear.

Let's take a closer look and clarify this fundamentally important point, which so far has not received the attention it deserves.

It must be prefaced that the gospels refer to a scourging prior to the crucifixion but do not describe it [Matthew 27:26, Mark 15:15, John 19:1].

Appropriately, Professor Andrea Nicolotti (in one of his academic articles in which he points out how vague our knowledge of Roman and medieval scourges is) reaffirmed the relevance of what Prospero Lambertini, the future Pope Benedict XIV, wrote three centuries ago:

The sacred evangelists did not mention whether Jesus was scourged with rods, or with tree branches tied together, or with whips or cords; if he was naked or dressed, tied to a column, how many flagellants were there and from which nation; and how many strikes were delivered to the sacred body.

[Prospero Lambertini, Annotazioni sopra le Feste di Nostro Signore e della Beatissima Vergine, Longhi, Bologna 1740, vol. I, pp. 204-205; cfr. A. Nicolotti, The Scourge of Jesus and the Roman Scourge. Historical and Archaeological Evidence, "Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus", vol. 15, n. 1, 2017, pp. 1-59]

From all this, it follows that the depiction of flagellation marks should have been based on the loose interpretation of the artist, which was foreign to the way the religious icon was regarded in the East.

Professor Piergiuseppe Bernardi notes that Eastern icons, “unlike paintings with religious subjects from the West, are never signed by their authors", so “it turns out that their constitution as the result of an inevitably subjective creativity was of very little significance” [P. Bernardi, I colori di Dio, Bruno Mondadori, 2007, p. 80].

In the West, however, artistic-religious works “found an extremely useful ally in the artist's imagination” [ibid., p. 97].

For these reasons uniquely in the West, as we are about to see, artists moved beyond a simple representation of the deceased Christ (possibly pierced by nails and a spear) and, in the late 13th and early 14th centuries, artistic representations of flagellation marks and the suffering associated with it became popular.

In truth, sindonologist Thomas de Wesselow, a university researcher in art history at King's College, Cambridge (for four years, but now in a different profession altogether), in his book which was originally published in English and later translated into Italian, German, French, Portuguese and Dutch, writes that the flagellation seen on the Christ of the Shroud

differs dramatically from anything envisaged in the Middle Ages. The vast majority of medieval images of the dead or dying Christ fail to depict any scourge marks at all. This may be because it was generally assumed the flogging affected only Christ's back, or it ma be to avoid distracting from the more significant wounds in the hands, feet and side. Christ is sometimes shown bleeding in depictions of the flagellation, but the effect is always rather crude. In Duccio's rendering of the scene, for example, the scourge marks are represented as red dribbles all over the body, including the arms but not the legs. [...] To attribute the marks on the Shroud to a provincial unknown working in the mid fourteenth century is therefore ridiculous.
[Thomas de Wesselow, The Sign. The Shroud of Turin and the Secret of the Resurrection, Viking, 2012, p. 123]

Then he claims:

Medieval artists were not merely incapable of representing Christ as realistically as he appears in the Shroud, they had no wish to represent him that way. In medieval art Christ's face, an unalterable sign of his divinity, remained perfect even after the Passion. The rugged Shroud-face is completely different, displaying clear signs of injury.

[Ibid., p. 138]

The documented reality is entirely different.

The face of Christ in two sorrowful crucifixes (see below) from the early 14th century: The Basilica of St. Mary in the Capitol, Cologne, Germany (c. 1300) and The Cathedral of Saint-Jean-Baptiste, Perpignan, France (1307).

De Wesselow puts all medieval art in the same category, without distinguishing East from West or Southern Europe from Northern Europe.

What we're interested in are 14th-century artistic representations in the geographical area (i.e., north-central Europe) where the Shroud appeared.

With this perspective (the only correct one, as is evident), the results of the analysis are entirely reversed.

Professor Flavio Caroli points out that in the Christian East, the subject of the Passion is always approached “with a hieratic and aseptic distance that ignores the drama of the flesh” [F. Caroli, Il volto di Gesù, Arnoldo Mondadori, 2009, p. 25], while “in the West, it's approached with a brutal intensity and extraordinary emotion" [ibid., p. 26].

So from this point of view, we can speak of the “entirely divergent paths of Western Catholic (and later Protestant) art and Eastern Orthodox art” [ibid.].

It's no coincidence that it was precisely in the second half of the 13th century that the Flagellant movement was born in Italy, whose followers wanted to relive the sufferings of Christ in their own flesh. This was always and uniquely a Western phenomenon.

In Western Christianity, a further distinction must then be made between the North and the South.

As Harvard and Columbia University medievalist Caroline Walker Bynum observes:

The "brutal realism" and expressionism of northern art with its twisted bodies, bulging veins, and streams of gore is unmatched b.y the gentler suffering in images from the south
[Caroline Walker Bynum, Wonderful Blood. Theology and Practice in Late Medieval Northern Germany and Beyond, University of Pennsylvania, 2007, p. 6]

In the West, “from the beginning of the 14th century, a proliferation of ‘sorrowful crucifixes’ (crucifixi dolorosi) is seen” [Bœspflug, p. 183].

In them, “the overuse of long streaks of blood or hanging lumps of flesh becomes increasingly popular as we approach the 14th century" [P. Thoby, Le Crucifix des Origines au Concile de Trent, Bellanger, 1959, p. 184].

In other words, as we get closer to the time of the Shroud's appearance.

Four sorrowful crucifixes: Cologne, St. Maria im Kapitol (1300 circa); Perpignan, Cathédrale Saint-Jean-Baptiste (1307); Cologne, St. Severin (1330-1350) [cf. G. Hoffmann, Das Gabelkreuz in St. Maria im Kapitol zu Köln und das Phänomen der Crucifixi dolorosi in Europa, Wernersche Verlagsgesellschaft, 2006, p. 46], National Museum in Warsaw (c. 1360).

The sorrowful crucifixes are characterized by a Y-shaped cross, also referred to as bifurcated or forked:

Around 1300, the crucifix known as the plague crucifix (Pestkruzifixe) or fork crucifix (Gabelkruzifixe), in which the Son of God appears with a hideously deformed body and face covered with sores and boils, was born beyond the Alps.

[Crucifix, in Encyclopedia Treccani Online]

One variation included examples such as at Perpignan, where the cross was of a traditional design, but the scourged Christ was placed much lower than the horizontal beam, still assuming the Y-body position.

But that's not enough.

Pietà Roettgen, mid-14th century, Rheinisches Landesmuseum, Bonn.

Among the new representations of Christ evidencing a particular devotion to the Passion of Christ, themselves intended for devout contemplation (in German Andacht, and, as such, the name of the corresponding objects, Andachtsbilder), one of the main examples, and perhaps the most beloved, is undoubtedly “the Madonna della Pietà” or simply Pietà, which depicts the body of Christ taken down from the cross and lying on his Mother's lap. It was the subject of numerous sculptural groups. It appears around 1300 in the Rhine region, where the group is known as Vesperbild, vesper images, after the name of the office celebrated at the end of the afternoon, at the time believed to be that of the descent from the cross. It later spread to Burgundy and Champagne. [...] Christ's silhouette is generally sorrowful, like that of Mary.
[Bœspflug, p. 183]

Champagne is the very region in France where the Shroud would appear in the middle of the century.

And, meanwhile, in parts of the East where sindonologists believe the Shroud was located, these artistic trends (sorrowful crucifixes and Christ scourged as in the Madonna della Pietà sculptural groups) were nonexistent.

These objective historical-iconographic elements alone lead one to suspect that it was the Shroud that conformed to pre-existing styles which are easily placed in time and place.

But there's certainly no shortage of additional confirmations.

Overlapping feet

Sindone, immagine dorsale, negativo fotografico

Dorsal image of the Man of the Shroud (photographic negative) and the Sindonic Crucifix, created in the 1960s by Msgr. Giulio Ricci, based on the Shroud's characteristics.

Until the 12th-13th centuries, the feet of the crucified Christ were always depicted as parallel or divergent, facing outward [cf. Thoby, p. 124].

The position of the Man of the Shroud's feet hints at a crucifixion that took place by superimposing the left foot over the right.

Jesuit sindologist Father Heinrich Pfeiffer, who was professor of Christian Art History at the Pontifical Gregorian University, wrote that the

somewhat different position of both feet, which can be seen on the Shroud, must have led to the most radical revolution in all representations of the Crucified Christ, and it has been depicted since the late 12th century almost exclusively and definitely from the end of the 13th century, no longer with four nails through the two hands and two feet, but three. A single nail thus fastens both feet, one on top of the other, to the post of the cross.
The Forstenried Crucifix is considered the earliest example of this type. This sculpture was first venerated in Andechs and was later was transferred to Forstenried (near Munich).
[Heinrich Pfeiffer, Le piaghe di Cristo nell'arte e la Sindone, in L. Coppini, F. Cavazzuti, Le icone di Cristo e la Sindone, San Paolo, 2000, pp. 95-96]

But if the Shroud, as sindologists believe, was still in the East (in Constantinople) in the 12th century (see: The Shroud: The True and the Unfounded History), how do we explain that this alleged “imitation” began in Germany?

No one ever seems to have noticed but, in fact, the position of the feet represents another very strong clue to the artistic nature of the Shroud, given that this is a feature that proliferated from the very regions of north-central Europe where the Shroud would later appear.

In fact, the tendency of depicting overlapping feet developed in England, Germany and France at a time when a new model of the cross was proliferating in artistic representations, supplanting the previous one.

In his landmark and still crucial study on the evolution of the artistic representation of the crucifix, from its origins to the Council of Trent, devout Catholic scholar Paul Thoby reconstructs the reasons for the birth of this trend. “The artist, struggling with the new long and narrow dimensions of the cross didn't know how to place Christ's feet" [Thoby, p. 133]. Therefore, “the crossed feet were a result of the narrowing of the wood of the cross” [ibid., p. 156].

Crossed feet are found in all French miniatures from the mid-13th century onward [cf. ibid., p. 135].

Nails in the wrists?

Mani e avambracci, Sindone (negativo fotografico)

The hands and forearms of the Man of the Shroud: positive image [Gian Carlo Durante, 2002] and negative image [Vernon Miller, 1978] (in the latter, there is an inversion, not only of the brightness but also of the arrangement of the parts due to the mechanism of geometric optics on which the camera's operation is based).

For at least a century (studies by sindologist Dr. Pierre Barbet), it has been said (and repeated) that the Shroud, unlike traditional iconography, bears the visible sign of the nail piercing the wrist and not the palm (of course, what is seen on the Shroud is the back of the hand, which would then constitute the exit side, not the entry side).

This thesis is a favorite of sindologists because such dissimilarity from the usual artistic representations would, in their view, constitute a clue to its authenticity.

In reality, it's been impossible to find full agreement on this issue, even among sindologists themselves.

In fact, as is well known, according to American anatomic pathologist and medical examiner Frederick T. Zugibe, the entrance to the piercing of the Man of the Shroud would be located at the base of the palm [F. T. Zugibe, The Crucifixion of Jesus: A Forensic Inquiry, M. Evans, 2005 (an online summary is available here)].

I would add that if, as I believe, the Shroud was created by an artist who was inspired by the sorrowful crucifixes of his time (i.e., fork crosses), the wound should be envisioned not toward the center of the stain but in a higher place (and from there, the blood would flow diagonally downward).

Exactly at the base of the palm, one might say.

Incidentally, in several of the sorrowful crucifixes, we can see the nails placed apparently right at the base of the palm:

Detail of the sorrowful crucifix of Andernach, Liebfrauenkirche (early 14th century).

Detail of the sorrowful crucifix of Kendenick, St. Johann Baptist (14th century).

Rivulets and contestations

Experimental research conducted by forensic anthropologist Matteo Borrini of the University of Liverpool and chemist Luigi Garlaschelli, a researcher at the University of Pavia, was published in 2018 [M. Borrini, L. Garlaschelli, A BPA Approach to the Shroud of Turin, "Journal of Forensic Science", vol. 64, n. 1, January 2019, pp. 137-143].

Among other things, the authors claim to have proven that the rivulets found on the outer part of the Man of the Shroud's forearms would really only have been possible if the forearms had formed an angle of more than 80° from the body. In effect, they would have had to be nearly vertical.

Prominent sindologists were quick to object (and almost always in heated tones; the only calm reaction was that of Dr. Paolo Di Lazzaro, co-director of the International Center for Shroud Studies) that Borrini and Garlaschelli failed to consider the existence of certain unknowns, including the viscosity of the liquid, the rate at which it was emitted from the wounds, irregularities of the skin (swelling, abrasions, possible hairiness of the body), the possibility that the Man of the Shroud moved on the cross.

All of this is interesting, but on the other hand, it's all to be proven that conditions of viscosity, emission rate and skin conditions would actually allow for these types of rivulets up to the elbow on a subject that was crucified in the ways we consider canonical, just as it's entirely hypothetical that the Man of the Shroud moved in a way suggested by sindologists.

Certainly, one fact remains. The presence of blood on the part of Christ's arms visible to the faithful, for the purpose of poignancy and in apparent contrast to the laws of gravity, is a typical and recurring element in sorrowful crucifixes, beginning with the earliest ones (see the various photos posted above).

And this is a curious coincidence to be placed alongside the others.

Sorrowful crucifix, Cologne, St. Maria vom Frieden (XIV sec. [cfr. Hoffmann, op. cit., p. 66]).

Sorrowful crucifix, Cologne, St. Georg (c. 1380).

The body of Christ

One detail is obvious: the scourged Christ who appears in the sorrowful crucifixes and in the Western Pietàs of the 1300s is always emaciated, almost skeletal, while the Christ of the Shroud does not objectively possess this characteristic.

A possible “link” to the shroud is missing.

Providing us with a lead are two Catholic medievalists, Franco Cardini and Marina Montesano, who note:

The man of the Shroud, as he appears on the Shroud of Turin and especially in photographic negatives, has the very characteristic features of a gisant from the late Gothic period.
[Franco Cardini, Marina Montesano, La Sindone di Torino oltre il pregiudizio, Medusa, 2015, p. 99]

This observation appears to be of extreme interest but is not further analyzed by the two academics.

Let's do that ourselves now.

As is well known, from the 10th century onward, liturgical dramas were organized in Western European churches on Easter (Visitatio sepulchri) and taking place in the empty tomb. The angel asks the three Marys the question, Quem quaeritis? (“Who are you looking for?”), and points them to a cloth representing the shroud of Jesus. The clergymen impersonating the three women later show the cloth to the faithful.

In Central Europe, the use of removable statues also began to spread, depicting the characters in question and Christ himself during Easter week:

Along with this type of work appeared the image of the deceased Christ, stretched out fully. Also carved in wood, it was apparently quite prevalent in Germany and in northern Switzerland during the 14th century, if not earlier.

[Sylvie Aballéa, Les saints sépulcres monumentaux du Rhin supérieur et de la Souabe (1340-1400), Presses Universitaires de Strasbourg, 2003, p. 16 (the contents of this volume are available in full in the Open Edition of the Presses Universitaires de Strasbourg)]

Christ appeared as a gisant (in French, literally “lying”), term for a type of sculpture (usually part of a burial monument) which was particularly common in northern France after the 11th century and was placed in churches, representing a deceased person (a nobleman or prelate) in a recumbent position.

The oldest existing specimen depicting Christ is in the former Cistercian Monastery in Wienhausen, Lower Saxony (in Western Germany, not far from France). It dates from approximately 1290 [see ibid.]:

The deceased Christ of Wienhausen (wood carving, circa 1290).

The very interesting holy wooden sepulcher in the Maigrauge Abbey in Fribourg, French Switzerland, dates between 1345 and 1360 [cf. ibid., p. 194; see also images no. 9-10 in the photographic repertoire of Sylvie Aballéa's publication]:

Holy Sepulcher, Freiburg, Maigrauge Abbey (mid-14th century) and detail of Christ's face.

In Oberwesel, in the Rhineland-Palatinate region of Western Germany, this wooden sculptural group was created in the first half of the 14th century:

Holy Sepulcher, first half of the 14th century, Oberwesel, Unserer Lieben Frau Church.

In a circumscribed area, another type of holy sepulcher, a monumental one consisting of stone statues, fixed as such, also became rather popular. In these also, Christ is depicted as “lying on the tomb, like a gisant”[ibid., p. 9].

Since only a very small portion of the holy sepulchers in various churches have been preserved intact, art history has long overlooked them.

In recent decades, the scholar who has dedicated the most effort to exploring this topic is the aforementioned Dr. Sylvie Aballéa, an expert in late medieval sculpture, who writes:

The monumental holy sepulcher is a creation that's particular to the late Middle Ages. Appearing in the second quarter of the 14th century, it spread to the upper Rhine basin as well as to Swabia.
[Ibid.]

The upper Rhine basin corresponds to northern Switzerland and Alsace, a historic region of France not far from Champagne-Ardenne, where Lirey is located and where the Shroud would appear (Swabia is in southwest Germany, near Alsace).

No later than 1331, in Oberwesel, this sculptural group was created in which the deceased Jesus has his hands on his pelvis:

Holy Sepulcher, 1301-1331, Oberwesel, Unserer Lieben Frau Church.

Another example of a monumental holy sepulcher is found in Freiburg im Breisgau, a city in southwestern Germany, 15 kilometers from the French border, in the cathedral of Unserer Lieben Frau (Our Lady), and was most likely created after 1343 [cf. ibid., p. 314 (see also photo no. 65 of the photographic repertoire)]:

Christ in the Holy Sepulcher, mid-14th c., Freiburg im Breisgau, Unserer Lieben Frau Cathedral.

Around the beginning of the 14th century, however, a new way of depicting the crossed hands of the deceased Jesus had also begun to appear (which, however, would never supplant the earlier ones): one hand entirely covers the back of the other on the belly or pelvic area.

Epitaphios of Michael Kyprianos, 1300-1350, Princeton University Art Museum and Scenes from the Passion, 1320-1330,

Skulpturensammlung und Museum für Byzantinische Kunst, Berlin.

This new trend is evident in some mid-14th-century holy sepulchers (from Haguenau and Schwäbisch Gmünd) as well as in the Shroud, as we well know.

The monumental holy sepulcher in Haguenau, France (Alsace) is located in Saint-Nicolas Church [cf. ibid., p. 318; see also photo no. 51 of the photographic repertoire]:

Holy Sepulcher and Deceased Christ, mid-14th century, Haguenau, Saint-Nicolas Church. The hands are overlapping (on the belly, unlike the Shroud), and the body is muscular and well proportioned, as in the Shroud.

Also dating to the middle of the century is the holy sepulcher in the Holy Cross (Heilig-Kreuz) Minster in Schwäbisch Gmünd, southwestern Germany [cf. ibid., p. 334 (see also photo no. 67 of the photographic repertoire]):

Holy Sepulcher, mid-14th century, Schwäbisch Gmünd, Holy Cross Minster.

As for the nudity of the Christ of the Shroud, it served a practical need: in an artistic sense, it's an image left on the shroud directly from the body.

Moreover, we have already seen (Proof of the Existence of the Shroud Prior to the 14th Century? The Pray Codex Illusion) that nudity was far from unusual in artistic representations of the deceased Christ in that era.

Artistic license?

In Italy, back in 1939 at the first National Conference on the Shroud, Catholic archaeologist Carlo Cecchelli noted that the Shroud image appears to have been generated on the perfectly taut cloth (which would seem incompatible with its supposed real use):

Why is it that, however you want to imagine the placement of the drape, the image appears to be printed, and there are no gaps or distortions from the inevitable folds?
[Carlo Cecchelli, Rapporti fra il Santo Volto della Sindone e l’antica iconografia bizantina, in VV. AA., La Santa Sindone nelle ricerche moderne, L. I. C. E. - R. Berruti & Co, 1950, p. 164]

Additionally:

And why, despite its realism, are there parts that might be said to be stylized, such as hands that are too long and too primitive in character?
[Ibid.]

On this subject, in 1980, Marc Blanc observes:

The character's two hands are crossed over the pelvic area, the left hand over the right hand. Yet, on the bottom hand, we see only the fingers, and they are inordinately long. Additionally, the index finger is the same length as the middle one or even slightly longer. This gives this hand an entirely unnatural appearance.
[Marc Blanc, Le suaire est l'œuvre d'un faussaire, "L'Histoire", n° 20, February 1980, p. 112]

Sindonologist, Professor Giulio Fanti seeks an explanation:

The fingers of the hands appear elongated, most likely due to an image distortion caused by the wrapping of the sheet.
[Giulio Fanti, Pierandrea Malfi, Sindone: primo secolo dopo Cristo!, Segno, 2020, p. 20]

This is a generic ad hoc hypothesis, not a proven fact. Furthermore, it's entirely at odds with other supposed miraculous features of the image, such as the absence of “distortions from the inevitable folds” Cecchelli mentioned. Strange then that the supposed distortion equates the length of two adjacent fingers.

In fact, one cannot help but notice that the fingers of the hands and their joints are notoriously among the most difficult anatomical parts to create, and prior to the Renaissance, artists weren't familiar with the techniques necessary for effective and realistic rendering ("It took thousands of years for humankind to develop an understanding of how to represent hands and feet convincingly" [E. Armer, Drawing Hands and Feet, Search Press, 2019, p. 8]).

Not surprisingly, art historian Louis-Antoine Prat, in his novel L'amateur d'absolu, has one of his characters state that “in the Middle Ages, if you wanted your hands in your own portrait, you had to pay double the price.”

The unnaturally slender fingers and, often, the poorly-evidenced difference in length between the index and middle fingers are characteristic of medieval artistic depictions, as can be seen from the following examples I have personally collected:

The Procession of Theodora (detail), c. 520-c. 547, mosaic, San Vitale, Ravenna.

The Three Kings in conversation with Herod, ivory sculpture, late 11th century-early 12th, Diocesan Museum, Salerno.

Master of Cesi, Assumption of the Virgin, 1295-1305, Musée de l'Île-de-France, Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat.

Pietro Lorenzetti, polyptych (detail), 1320, Church of Santa Maria della Pieve, Arezzo.

Simone Martini, The Virgin of the Annunciation, c. 1340, Koninklijk Museum, Antwerp.

The Man of the Shroud's fingers appear objectively similar to those typical of medieval artistic representations.

The Philosopher's Face

In sequence: a bust of Christ painted in the catacombs of Commodilla, Rome, late 4th century; two examples of Christ Pantokrator (almighty, blessing with the right hand), 6th and 12th centuries, respectively, from the St. Catherine's Monastery of Mount Sinai; the face on the Shroud (photographic negative).

Regarding the iconographic issue, it may also be worth asking another question: is the face of the Jesus of the Shroud historically grounded?

Let's begin by stating that we don't have much certainty around how Jewish men wore their beards and hair in the Romanized Land of Israel in the 1st century A. D.

Professor Marvin Wilson, former professor of Biblical and Theological Studies at Gordon College, Wenham, assesses our (uncertain) knowledge in this regard:

[...] in Jesus' day, the lenght of hair and style of beards must have varied, determined to some degree by the accepted custom of the time.
[Marvin R. Wilson, The Appearance of Jesus: Hairstyles and Beards in Bible Times, "Jerusalem Perspective", n. 41, November-December 1993, p. 12]

However, we can say that the face that appears in the Shroud, with its long beard, shoulder-length hair and parting in the middle, conforms to the depiction of Christ that had begun to spread in iconography in the second half of the fourth century.

Sindologists, drawing from the interpretations developed in the early twentieth century by biologist and philosopher Paul Vignon (in fact, the father of sindology), again start with the totally unproven assumption that certain iconographic similarities are a sign of derivation from the Shroud:

Observing the face of the Man of the Shroud, in fact, it is possible to identify many elements of
irregularity that are repeated in the painted images of Christ: these are not simply attributable to the
imagination of the artists. They also allow us to hypothesize, with a high degree of certainty, that the
ancient depictions of Christ's face depend on the venerated relic.

[Caccese, Marinelli, Provera, Repice, p. 62]

Of course, this is not so. Analogies certainly indicate adherence to certain iconographic patterns but, in themselves, do not clarify the relationships of authorship and derivation.

Indeed, the sindologists' hypothesis in question is disproven by all the historical data we have (and, as we shall see shortly after, unlike what sindonologists claim, has no scientific support).

Certainly in the fourth century, no known source had yet made the slightest mention of the existence of the Shroud image (there was not even news of the Mandylion, which the bold theories of sindologists we've already examined in the article The Shroud: The True and the Unfounded History would like to link to the Shroud).

The depiction of Jesus' face that we're talking about (long beard and hair, parted in the middle) is also apparently entirely conventional.

In St. Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians [1 Corinthians 11:14-15] we read:

Does not nature itself teach you that if a man has long hair, he is disgraced, whereas if a woman has long hair, it is her glory?

Therefore, it's highly unlikely then that the tradition of Jesus' long hair existed in the first century.

In the early fifth century, St. Augustine, in his De Trinitate, tells us clearly that no one knew what Jesus' true appearance was:

But it must needs be, that, when by reading or hearing of them we believe in any corporeal things which we have not seen, the mind frames for itself something under bodily features and forms [...] For even the countenance of our Lord Himself in the flesh is variously fancied by the diversity of countless imaginations, which yet was one, whatever it was. Nor in our faith which we have of our Lord Jesus Christ, is that wholesome which the mind imagines for itself, perhaps far other than the reality, but that which we think of man according to his kind.
[Augustine of Hippo, De Trinitate, VIII, 4]

How, then, did the iconographic typology of Jesus' face that's known to all arise?

Prof. Bœspflug writes:

Two main typologies of Christ will coexist for approximately two centuries, sometimes in the same building, as in St. Constance. On the one hand, a bearded Christ of a mature age makes a sporadic appearance in the Catacombs of St. Callixtus and Commodilla and becomes increasingly prevalent toward the end of the fourth century. It's inspired by, among other things, the ancient model of the teaching philosopher. [...] On the other hand, a beardless Christ figure whose age varies...
[Bœspflug, op. cit., p. 81]

As for the typology which would become firmly established (that of the bearded Christ), even Paul Zanker, Professor Emeritus of Classical Art History at the Scuola Normale Superiore in Pisa, points out how it coincided with an appearance that in the Roman Empire territories, beginning from the second half of the 1st century AD, connoted charismatic philosophers who were considered “divine men,” teachers of morality and endowed with innate wisdom (this is an appearance that's likewise perhaps influenced by that which was traditionally attributed to Zeus in Greek sculpture).

Images from the book by Prof. Paul Zanker La maschera di Socrate. La figura dell'intellettuale nell'arte antica (pp. 292 e 351).

Zanker notes that, in late first-century and second-century Latin and Greek literary sources, "long hair, along with the beard, is constantly remarked upon" [P. Zanker, The Mask of Socrates. The Image of the Intellectual in Antiquity, University of California Press, 1996, p. 261] and "looking ahead to Late Antique portraits of Christ and the philosophers, it is interesting to note that in several of these heads the hair parted in the middle accentuates the high forehead" [ibid., p. 264].

Moreover, "that Christ should appear in the image of the philosopher-teacher was anything but obvious and certainly not so ordained by Scripture" [ibid., p. 295].

In Christian art, "apart from Christ, only the prophets, the evangelists, and a few figures from the Old Testament who enjoyed positions of special authority, such as Abraham and Melchizedek, are depicted with long hair and a full beard. To differentiate them from Christ, they often have grey hair, or their hair and beard are not as carefully styled" [ibid., p. 306].

In relation to the Mosaic of the Transfiguration (6th cent. AD.) in St. Catherine's Monastery on Mount Sinai, Zanker highlights the difference between the hairstyle, length of hair and beard of Christ and the prophets, contrasted with those of other characters:

Christ hovers between Elijah and Moses, all three represented in the portrait type of the "holy man." But whereas the two prophets stand on earth, Christ appears in a mandorla. Of the disciples at his feet and the apostles, saints, and true believers in the tondi, however, many are shown in the traditional iconography of the Greek intellectual.

[Ibid., pp. 306-307]

Several oral traditions regarding Jesus' physical appearance emerged in the Middle Ages which confirm the iconography that has become tradition but have little value due to their late origin.

Conversely, it'a interesting that this type of iconography, up to the entire 7th century, was met with resistance.

For example, toward the end of the fourth century, in a letter to Emperor Theodosius handed down under the name of Epiphanius of Salamis, we read:

They paint the Saviour with copious hair because of his being called "Nazorean", since the Nazoreans [the Nazirites] wear long hair. But everybody who dares attribute such features to him proves to be wrong: actually the Lord drank wine, unlike Nazoreans who abstained from it.
[Epiphanius of Salamis, Letter to Emperor Theodosius, ed. H. G. Thümmel, Die Frühgeschichte der ostkirchlichen Bilderlehre: Texte und Untersuchungen zur Zeit vor dem Bilderstreit, De Gruyter, 1992, p. 301; cfr. M. Bacci, The Many Faces of Christ. Portraying the Holy in the East and West, 300 to 1300, Reaktion Books, 2014, p. 211]

The argument used by Epiphanius to deny the hypothesis that Jesus had taken a Nazirite vow is not in itself conclusive, but his oppositional testimony is further evidence of the absence of any authoritative tradition or source to support this iconographic typology.

For several centuries, an alternative typology of Christ's face proliferated in the Near East. It displayed Middle Eastern features, a short beard and short, curly hair with no part.

The lost Historia Ecclesiastica from the 6th centure by Theodore Anagnostes (or “the Reader”) is known to us in part through excerpts reported by later authors. In the 8th century, theologian John of Damascus quotes a passage from the work in question in his In Defense of Icons:

A painter who was painting an image of the Lord Christ was paralysed in his hands. And they said that he had been entrusted by a Greek to make an image under the dedication to the Saviour and that he painted him with his hair parting in the middle above the forehead, so that his eyes be not covered - in this way Pagans actually represent Zeus.
[John of Damascus, Contra imaginum calumniatores, III, 130; cf. Bacci, pp. 115-116]

Theodore adds, "The historian says namely that the other scheme of the Saviour, the one with short, crisp hair, proves to be the most truthful one" [Theodore Anagnostes, Historia ecclesiastica, I, 15, ed. G. C. Hansen, Theodoros Anagnostes Kirchengeschichte, Akademie Verlag, 1971, p. 107; cf. Bacci, p. 116].

Even Byzantine emperor Justinian II, who during his first reign (which ended in 695) had depicted the face of Christ on various coins in the dominant typology, then, during his second reign (705-711), depicted it according to the alternative typology.

Coin minted by Justinian II during his second reign (705-711), depicting a Middle Eastern-type of Jesus with a short beard and short, curly hair.

Expert Michele Bacci, Professor of Medieval Art History at the University of Freiburg, summarizes the situation by writing that the historical testimonies relating to this alternative iconographic type allow us to argue that it

was especially rooted in the Syro-Palestinian area and more specifically in the Syriac-rite and Coptic-rite communities of the Near East; that it was shared by different groups (Copts, Greek Orthodox, west Syrians and Nestorians) in the area, regardless of their confessional divide; and that it was considered authoritative enough to lead a Byzantine emperor to promote it as an official portrait of Christ in deliberate contrast with the more familiar long-haired type.
[Bacci, p. 139]

Essentially, up until the entire seventh century, in the Near East, an iconography of the face of Jesus proliferated that was entirely different from the predominant one in the areas where the influence of the Greek-Latin cultural tradition was widespread. It was the latter which then established itself globally and came to be found on the Shroud.

The Science of Seeing What You Want

Christ Pantokrator on a solidus, one of the coins minted by Justinian II between 692 and 695.

To attempt to demonstrate that the face of Jesus with a beard and long hair parted in the center relies on the Shroud (which is entirely disproven by all historical arguments, as we have seen), sindologists also leverage arguments that can appear scientific to the less astute public.

In particular, sindologists still systematically refer to a study published in 1985 by psychiatrist Alan Whaner, with collaboration from his wife Mary (a former elementary teacher).

The Whargers, who aspired to add a scientific slant to the Vignon theories, developed a technique of overlapping images (via polarized light) which they used to compare the face of the Jesus of the Shroud to the Christ Pantokrator of Saint Catherine's Monastery at Mount Sinai (6th century) and to the Christ on some of the coins minted by Justinian II starting in 692.

Coin compared by Alan Wharger to the Shroud via the overlapping of polarized light. This is a Jesus Pantokrator on a cut solidus of Justinian II (692-695), probably originally belonging to a piece of jewelry (picture taken from Alan D. Whanger, Icone e Sindone, in L. Coppini, F. Cavazzuti, Le icone di Cristo e la Sindone, San Paolo, 2000, p. 147).

We preface that, among the Byzantine mints in the second half of the seventh century, "only Constantinople, Carthage, Syracuse, Rome and Ravenna remained in operation." [A. Castellotti, Le zecche bizantine, "Panorama numismatico", no. 83, 1995, p. 21]: all cities far from the places where Shroud speculators envisioned the Shroud in that century.

Despite all of this, Alan Whaner tries to claim that he has shown that the engraver copied the face of the Shroud with this argument:

We found over 145 correspondence points between the solidus of Justinian II and the image of the face on the Shroud (fig. 1 c). Keep in mind that the face on the coin is only 9 mm from the top of the head to the bottom of the beard. Having not managed to find satisfactory methods to statistically confirm this observation, we used a forensic method for determining the identity or origin of the facial resemblance, which shows from 45 to 60 correspondance points. Consequently, the finding of 145 correspondence points between the image of the face on the Byzantine coin and that of the Shroud cannot be a pure coincidence, and the possibility that they don't correspond in reality is infinitesimal.

[A. D. Whanger, Icone e Sindone. Confronto mediante tecnica di polarizzazione di immagine sovrapposta, in Coppini, Cavazzuti, p. 147]

Two reasons for concern already appear in Whaner's words.

The first is that, even if the engraver really had the Shroud in his sight, he would never have managed to reproduce 145 identical elements on 9 mm image, even if he wanted to. This is obvious to everyone.

The second is that the similarities between the Shroud and the coin appear vague and generic to the naked eye and would seem only to refer to the same iconographic type (dating back to the 4th century, as we know).

Emanuela Marinelli, in her report co-authored with three other authenticist scholars and presented in 2017 at the International Congress on the Shroud held in Pasco, Washington, USA, writes:

With the technique of superposition in polarized light it has been shown that the Shroud face
fits in most points with that, suitably enlarged, of the Pantocrator portrayed on coins. There are more
than 140 highlighted points of congruence, which are the points of overlap, with the solidus and with
the tremissis of the first reign of Justinian II. Those correspondences widely satisfy the American
forensic criterion, according to which from 45 to 60 points of congruence are enough to establish the
identity or similarity of two images.
[Caccese, Marinelli, Provera, Repice, p. 67]

To tell the truth, forensic anthropometry aims to verify the identity of a subject (for example, if the person who appears in two photographs is the same), not two images (for which, coinciding points should theoretically be infinite).

But let's see in particular what two sindologists engaged at the forefront of authenticist studies in the scientific sphere write.

Giulio Fanti, Associate Professor of Thermal and Mechanical Measurements at the University of Padua, in his book published by a religious publishing house, highlights the importance (in his opinion) of the "more than one hundred points of congruence determined by scholar A. Whanger" [Fanti, Malfi, p. 128] and stresses that the study in question was published in "an international scientific journal with qualified reviewers" [ibid., p. 149] (specifically, Applied Optics).

Liberato De Caro, a physicist by profession at the Italian National Research Council (CNR), in his book, also published by a religious publishing house, refers to the other comparison made by the Whangers, the one with the icon of Sinai, which allegedly provided even more astonishing results:

In fact, the superposition under polarized light technique found that the face of the Shroud shows 250 points of congruence with that, suitably enlarged, of the Christ Pantocrator of Saint Catherine's Monastery at Mt. Sinai (Egypt), fully satisfying US forensic criterion, according to which from 45 to 60 points of congruence are enough to establish the identity or similarity of two images.
[Liberto De Caro, Il volto svelato, Centro editoriale Valtortiano, 2021, pp. 328-329]

Beyond the repetition of the improper reference to the identity of two images, if this were the case, the physiognomies of the Shroud and the Pantokrator, with 250 points in common, should be nearly indistinguishable. Clearly, they aren't.

The truth is that the Whangers' sindological research has never had (and never could have had) scientific validation, for reasons we shall now see.

As a preliminary step, it's helpful to document an event.

In 2013, Joseph N. Mait, editor of Applied Optics, wrote in an editorial regarding a survey conducted among readers, authors, reviewers and editors of the journal. It emerged that some of them complained about the fact that

the publications were not science (I actually take this as a positive comment because Applied Optics is not a science journal but an applied one), contained poor analysis...
[Joseph N. Mait, OSA’s Review of Applied Optics, "Applied Optics", vol. 52, n. 4, 2013, p. ED3]

What Mait is telling us is that the journal is primarily interested in the practical use of a technique.

The technique proposed by the Whangers was evidently judged worthy of attention in itself (despite it not having much success) because it could be applied to various fields of research:

The technique should be helpful in examining and comparing high altitude and satellite photographs. Other uses in numismatic, archaeologic, art analytic, radiographic, and forensic areas should be forthcoming.

[Alan D. Whanger, Mary Whanger, Polarized image overlay technique: a new image comparison method and its applications, "Applied Optics", vol. 24, n. 6, 1985, p. 771]

The way in which the Whangers had, in this specific case, read and interpreted the data obtained, applying it to a type of facial recognition, was an accessory element in the magazine's eyes.

For us, however, it's element of keen interest.

Let's say right now that in their study, the Whangers do not define in objective and unequivocal (and therefore scientific) terms what they refer to as points of congruence.

They call them "identities and similarities":

These identities and similarities - such as the positions of bloodstains, configuration of the hair, nostrils, tonally shaded areas, positions of the irises of the eyes, and replication of wrinkles on the Shroud - were termed points of congruence and could be tabulated.
[Whanger e Whanger, Polarized image overlay technique, p. 767]

And who decides when two marks or points are similar or not?

Furthermore, indiscriminately counting the overlapping points of two faces is not recognized as a valid system.

Forensic anthropology, in fact, uses predetermined key points, i.e., landmarks:

Facial landmarks are employed in many research areas such as facial recognition, craniofacial identification, age and sex estimation among the most important. In the forensic field, the focus is on the analysis of a particular set of facial landmarks, defined as cephalometric landmarks.
[L. Faria Porto et al., Automatic Cephalometric Landmarks Detection on Frontal Faces: Approach Based on Supervised Learning Techniques, "Digital Investigation", vol. 30, September 2019, p. 108]

The number of landmarks varies according to the protocols applied, but there are just a few dozen (for example, 34 are used in the research by Lee et al. A Preliminary Study of the Reliability of Anatomical Facial Landmarks Used in Facial Comparison, "Journal of Forensic Sciences," vol. 64, n. 2, 2019, pp. 519-527).

The procedure applied by the Whangers is pseudoscientific because it's understood that different faces, when superimposed, may present many points that match with a certain approximation.

Let's give a little practical demonstration.

In 2022, a Catholic YouTube channel (Maria Vision) produced a pro-Shroud video with a dramatic ending in which the Shroud's face is seen gradually overlapping with that of the actor (Selva Rasalingam), who plays Jesus in the 2014 American film, The Gospel of John.

The superimposition is essentially perfect. But there's nothing surprising here.

There were even those who, through this system, believed they had proven the bizarre theory that the Shroud is the work of Leonardo da Vinci (who was born a century after the appearance of the Shroud in Lirey), simply because the contour lines of the Mona Lisa's face align with those of the Shroud.

The invalid demonstration of the face of the Mona Lisa and the Shroud and their ability to be superimposed (graphic elaborations by Guglielmo Menegatti).

How many points of congruence would the Whangers have found between the Shroud and Selva Rasalingam or the Mona Lisa?

To better understand the para-scientific way in which the Whangers worked, it's helpful to read the book they published (thirteen years after the Applied Optics article) through an evangelical religious publishing house (the two were and would remain active members of the Duke Memorial Methodist Church in Durham, North Carolina).

In the book, they provide much additional information, and we discover that they also applied their technique to the two high-relief images of pagan deities found by archaeologists in the city of Dura Europos, in modern-day Syria: one of Zeus Kyrios, dating precisely to the year 31 AD, and the other of the god Aphlad from 54 A D.

Using the Polarized Image Overlay Technique, we compared the face image of Zeus Kyrios with the face image on the Shroud of Turin and found a very good match of seventy-nine PC [Points of Congruence]. We found sixty-seven PC between the face image of Aphlad and the Shroud face.
[M. Whanger, A. Whanger, The Shroud of Turin: An Adventure of Discovery, Providence House Publishers, 1998, p. 43]

M. Whanger, A. Whanger, The Shroud of Turin, Providence House Publishers, 1998, p. 40.

This should automatically prove the unreliability of their application of the method, but the Whangers, by fusing science fiction and history fiction, are sensationally playing it up:

We were able to show that these images are good to excellent derivations of the Mandylion/Shroud image.
[Ibid., p. 39]

They conclude, regarding the devotees of those two pagan deities:

[...] this incorporation of the physical appearance of Jesus into the appearance of their own deities likely posed no problem to them.
[Ibid.]

So, according to the Whangers, in 31 AD, when we don't even know if Jesus was dead, and when his followers were only a handful of people, in Syria, the face of Zeus was modeled after the Shroud.

Truly amazing thoughts!

The well-known historical truth is that Zeus was depicted with long hair parted in the middle as well as a beard several centuries before the birth of Christianity. The fact that Dura-Europos was depicted as such is therefore perfectly normal.

Zeus of Mylasa (350-340 a. C.), Museum of Classical Archaeology, Cambridge.

The Whangers, by enlarging beyond measure the photographs of the Shroud on which they were working (copies of the photos taken by Giuseppe Enrie in 1931), evidently unaware of the phenomenon of pareidolia, believed they had found everything they were looking for in various indistinguishable marks (the shape of an amulet that was supposedly placed on Jesus' body by Roman soldiers to mock him, images of 28 plants that grew in Palestine, a nail from the crucifixion, a hammer, a spear, the dice with which the Roman soldiers cast lots for Jesus' robes, the sponge that, according to the Gospels, was soaked in vinegar and brought with a spear to the mouth of the crucified Jesus, and much more).

M. Whanger, A. Whanger, The Shroud of Turin, Providence House Publishers, 1998, pp. 69 and 75.

*****

Christ Pantokrator on a solidus of Justinian II and the face of the Mystery Man, a hyperrealistic reconstruction of the Man of the Shroud created in 2022 in Spain.

In recent decades, other well-known supporters of the authenticity of the Shroud have also attempted to use technical tools to confirm the Vignon theses but make the same mistakes as the Whangers, such as not following scientific protocols in the planning, implementation and evaluation phases of their research.

The last attempt dates back to 2014, when Professor Fanti wrote in one of his books that he saw, on the millimeter-sized faces depicted via the imperfect Byzantine minting, signs of beatings and torture corresponding to those found on the Shroud [cf. Fanti, Malfi, pp. 126-127 and 148].

No other sindologist has subscribed to his vision, and the theory has not been pursued further. In fact, these are marks that are not objectively perceptible and distinguishable.

Fanti also professed to see two tears on the face of Jesus on a coin that's even smaller than the solidus, a semissis (which "perhaps also seems to show two tears under the right eye" [ibid., p. 123]) and a tear on the face of the Shroud (even if "it's not very clear on the image of the Shroud" [ibid., p. 124]).

We cannot help but end this page with a question that's similar to the one we closed the previous one with: If there was true historical evidence of the existence of the Shroud before the 14th century, would there be a need to resort to arguments of this type?

To be continued

Marco Corvaglia

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