As mentioned, the Christ of Maratea has two exactly opposite perspective points: one from the ground, from the road in front of the basilica, and one from the sea. For those arriving from the sea, it must have seemed like the Redeemer was facing them. However, even from the ground, because it could not possibly turn its back on the church.
The brilliant solution the artist came up with was the design of the tunic and the arms raised high. The statue is placed at the top of Mount San Biagio, so from the sea, the face and the side it is facing could not have been seen in any case. From the ground, however, the short distance from the observer’s point of view gives it a whole different clarity and dimension. The risk would have been to create an ungraceful figure, in which the torso would correspond to the back, making it a sort of squat, round figure. None of this. The tunic and the movement of the foot placed forward give it an upward thrust and a proverbial grace in its dynamics. The fact that the arms are raised and slightly bent, invoking the Father, with a hint of drapery or a half cloak on the shoulders (in the natural design of the tunic), flows in a continuous movement of exquisite craftsmanship; and from a distance, nothing betrays the direction of the face. Any pedestal would have been irrelevant, because from the sea, the statue was already placed high on the mountain; whereas from the ground, close up, it would have done nothing but distance the image from the viewer.
The iconography of the figure is perfect, exactly that of the Saint in mystical visions, a young man dressed only in a white tunic, and a white so intense that it cannot be described.
Artist Innocenti, after intense studies and research, found here a particular blend of white cement and marble powder mixed with actual fragments of mineral from the quarries of Versilia. Therefore, by night, under the light of the moon, the statue reflects and shines with a bright, phosphorescent glow. For the observer on the ground, the optimal viewing point is about 30 meters further along the road at the base of the feet. The eyes and the slight tilt of the head are directed toward this point. The face and the somatic expression of the Redeemer radiate a calm and disarming tranquility. If it weren’t for the sky, the bushes along the road, the vast sea on the horizon, and the mountains behind us, it would seem like being in a church. The sense of reverence is tangibly perceptible, even compared to that inside the nearby Basilica.
The face of Jesus is indeed very beautiful. The incredible and extraordinary feeling it conveys is that of absolute detachment from the world, which he has nonetheless dominated. He is an immanent Christ, timeless, young, yet eternal at the same time. If a comparison could be made, he is much more like the Father: loving yet untouchable. He is another dimension, one that still permeates us.
I once wrote a verse: “Obvious sin of death, in Your eternal life we rise…” Perhaps in this sense, it could be understood. It is a Christ who has passed death, definitively. It is a Christ for whom original sin has no meaning. “He passed the great river,” as the Spirituals of African Americans sing; and by doing so, he showed us the way.
From there, he waits for us and guides us, manifesting hope and the awareness of an inescapable force, which we, like him, will one day follow in this immortal journey, because this is what we are destined for. He is the Christ Redeemer who conquered death.
“And for this reason God exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven, on earth, or under the earth, and every tongue should proclaim: ‘Jesus Christ is Lord!'” (Phil 2:9-12)
To the everlasting glory of God and His only-begotten Son.

Luigi Filippo Parravicini
May 10, 2013