Here are two artistic representations, each portraying a different god, as conceived by their respective worshippers. The first depicts the god Moloch at the apex of the ritual proper to him. The second is an image of Our Lord Jesus Christ that presides over the entrance door of Amiens Cathedral in France. The contrast lends itself to some reflection.
The god Moloch
The first scene is virtually audible. The crackling of the rising and constantly fuelled fire is almost drowned out by the surrounding noise. The timpani players strike their instruments with all the strength of their arms and the ebriety they experience in this supreme ritual moment. The trumpets blare to the ever more frenetic rhythm of the percussion. A man standing with his arms outstretched, performing a supposedly priestly office, seems to be competing, through his clamouring prayers, with the din around him. Others, on their knees, repeat contorted obeisances. An amorphous crowd watches the ceremony.
Dominating the scene is Moloch: immense, solid, severe and brutish. His eyes, which never deign to look down on the worshippers, becomes colder with the fire burning under the bronze image. Yes, more terribly icy… This is the Moloch of the Phoenicians and Carthaginians, the powerful god who – according to their belief – brought them victory over every army, assured them of rain, the harvest and commerce; the god who gave them everything… under one terrible condition. And to fulfil it, his worshippers perform this rite.1
The man standing before the divinity lifts a child in his arms: the most precious gift of the nation, the tender son of the highest aristocracy, the future of the people, a promise just beginning to be fulfilled. Why lift him up? To throw him into the incandescent arms of the idol, to be burned alive by the flames that vivify the dead god. At that fateful moment, the culmination of the cult, the cacophony rises in intensity and delirium to overpower the cries of the condemned innocent.
The fiery idol sneers, cold and implacable, at the blood that covers it.
This, in a nutshell, is a typical cult to Moloch. Or, for that matter, a typical cult of antiquity. In fact, this Moloch was called Mot in Canaan, Hadad in Syria, Adad-milki in Mesopotamia, Milcom in Ammon, and Baal elsewhere… as in Israel, where “They built the high places of Baal, […] to offer up their sons and daughters to Moloch” (Jer 32:35).
Children served in these macabre rituals as a kind of currency, merchandize to present to the god: they were offered in exchange for peace, victory, pleasure, money, comforts…
An unspeakable abomination!
The “Beau Dieu” of Amiens
What a contrast with the second image!
The physiognomy – solemn, majestic, grave – shines with such sweetness behind the sculpture that even the stone caresses. The immobile gaze is firm, gentle and alive, and the posture regal and natural. The folds of the cloak fall with a beauty that surpasses the waves of the sea. The left hand, serene and composed, holds the Book of Life. His orderly hair would put parading armies to shame, with a simplicity that leaves nature in awe.
Without realizing it, we are on our knees; such is the majesty! When we least expect it, we stand up to embrace Him: such is His goodness!
He brings together harmonic opposites that only a soul of extraordinary depth can contain: He is an unspeakably great Father and, at the same time, an inexpressibly sweet and accessible King. He summarizes and elevates within Himself the two aspects of grandeur: superiority and generosity.
He is quite the antithesis of the monster of bronze and fire who stretches out his hands to consume his young victims, and whose canine snout seems insatiable for those little hearts that have hardly had a chance to beat. The Beau Dieu of Amiens, on the other hand, raises His right hand to welcome the little ones, bless them and protect them. A worthy representation of the One who said: “Let the children come to Me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of Heaven” (Mt 19:14).
Between two masters
One kills; the Other gives life. One demands innocent blood in order to give; the Other, Innocent, has given us His own Blood. Behind one billows the black smoke of earthly and ephemeral goods; behind the Other, an everlasting Heaven of light awaits us.
These are the two lords who once disputed the empire of souls. Even the Holy Land became a battleground: many waited for the Messiah, while others “sacrificed their sons and their daughters to the demons” (Ps 106:37). Later – O sorrow! – even the Son of God would be immolated.
These are the two lords who now dispute the empire of souls. Moloch tyrannizes those who, in order to satisfy their conveniences and whims, are willing to sacrifice anything except their pleasure and selfishness. Jesus Christ, on the other hand, reigns lovingly over the innocent who have the courage to admire Him in a world that idolizes pleasure, that is adverse to, and even intolerant of, Gospel teachings.
They are not just different but incompatible and mutually exclusive masters, as Jesus Christ Himself repeatedly said (cf. Mt 6:24; Lk 11:23). You may only serve one. And which one will you choose? ◊
Notes
1 Cf. WAGNER, Carlos González. Moloc. In: ROPERO BERZOSA, Alfonso (Ed.). Gran diccionario enciclopédico de la Biblia. 7.ed. Barcelona: Clie, 2021, p.1725-1727.
