Whose labour is granted the privilege of symbolizing divine realities? The question is unavoidable and hotly contested in the thoroughly religious context of 14th century England. In the 12th and 13th centuries, romances and early alliterative poetry frequently constructed elevated theological associations for knightly tools and labour: think of Excalibur, or the Holy Grail. In the mid-14th century, though, the symbolic landscape shifts. In The Sign of Labour, I argue that in the century after the Black Death (1348), manual labour frequently supplants the labours of clerics or knights in the realm of religious symbolism. In literary works such as Piers Plowman and The York Plays, as well as visual traditions such as the Sunday Christs (pictured to the right), it is the plow, the shears, or the hammer (and not the sword) that emerge as charged, conflicted sites for symbolic, even sacramental, meaning.
Today we wrestle with the increasing displacement of skilled human labour with competent and efficient AI, and questions about work's meaning gain renewed vitality. How might religious symbolisms of the past inform modern questions about the inherent meaning (or lack thereof) within the habits of mind and body that we call labour?

"Sunday Christ," or "Christ of Trades," St. Stephen's, Biella — Enrico Engelmann, milanofotografo.it

Studies in Philology
University of North Carolina Press
Volume 123.3, 2026 (forthcoming Summer 2026)
ABSTRACT: This essay chronicles a visual and literary tradition of interpreting Genesis—maturing through the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries and finding its greatest artistic expression in the York Corpus Christi plays—that symbolically links English labourers with Noah-the-shipwright and God-the-creator. Artists working in this tradition refigure the early chapters of Genesis from a cosmic story of good and evil to a culturally specific tale of good and bad craftsmanship, in which the disciplined labour of God and his apprentice Noah is juxtaposed with the wasteful and destructive work of Cain, Lamech, or Lucifer. A complex symbolism emerges within which the persons, tools, and practices of construction labour are stretched into the extremes of both negative and positive signification. Analyzing the early fourteenth-century Cursor Mundi, the post-plague Egerton Genesis, and four linked York Corpus Christi pageants, I argue that while the terrible consequences of bad labour are not ignored, the overall effect of the technique is a symbolic dignification of the English labourer.
ABSTRACT: Twenty-one times in the Commedia, precisely seven times in each canticle, Dante halts the narrative in order to directly address the reader. In these addresses Dante— as Leo Spitzer hinted at in his classic article—seeks to become guide to the reader not merely in a general sense, but to guide in the same manner that Virgil guides him, passing on the content of Virgil’s ethical or spiritual teaching to his own readers. I argue in this paper that Dante’s addresses are reproducing for his reader not only Virgil’s spiritual pedagogical posture toward Dante, but also Virgil’s artistic pedagogical posture. Dante desires in his direct addresses to pass on to the reader the same lessons in creativity that Virgil passed to him. Understanding Dante's impetus toward artistic pedagogy is a missing exegetical tool for uncovering the unifying purpose of these addresses. When Dante turns to face his readers, he seeks not only to craft intimacy or to lend spiritual guidance; he seeks also to become a fonte which might allow a future lettore to emerge into a creative actor—and, in time, even a writer of poetry, one trained for composition within Dante’s ample wake.
ABSTRACT: After the English Reformation, St. Peter maintained an enormous presence in English imaginations. While Protestant theology rejected Peter's role as first Pope, it produced an array writing establishing Peter as an indispensable paradigm of true repentance. Catholic writers responded, sometimes doubling down on Peter's traditional role, sometimes incorporating the Protestant everyman figure into their own writings. In this paper, I demonstrate that in King Lear, Shakespeare enters the fray by modelling Edgar on the contemporaneous understanding of Peter, drawing heavily from both scripture and Robert Southwell's popular poem, Saint Peter's Complaint. Not only do the narrative arcs match—cowardly sin to tortured guilt to repentance and reinstatement—but dozens of specific images in Lear are drawn from and engage with the Petrine literature. I conclude the paper by exploring Shakespeare's previously unnoted allusion at the play's end: Edgar's three-fold repetition of "Lord" to the dead Lear near Dover Beach—an echo of Peter's three-fold confession of "Lord" by the Sea of Galilee.
ABSTRACT: Criticism on Ron Hansen's Mariette in Ecstasy has, with little hesitation and only one exception, readily accepted the veracity of Mariette's stigmata. Hansen, however, claims to have written the novel to support both belief and unbelief. Employing the psychoanalytic and Foucauldian principles that Hansen's text seems to openly invite, this article demonstrates the subtle ways with which Hansen consistently provides alternative naturalistic explanation when depicting the supernatural. It argues that Hansen sows seeds of ambiguity not to produce doubt, but to offer a unique theological hermeneutics: he positions his text, as well as Mariette, as a stigmatic—willingly accepting the wounds of suspicious reading to create a more grace-infused sacramental text.
Derek Witten's Portfolio
Copyright © 2025 Derek Witten's Portfolio - All Rights Reserved.
Sketch of Trees Usage Rights: CC BY-SA 4.0
Powered by GoDaddy Website Builder
We use cookies to analyze website traffic and optimize your website experience. By accepting our use of cookies, your data will be aggregated with all other user data.