Sunday, February 26, 2012

"And The Angels Ministered To Him"

Christ Ministered to by Angels
From a Pictorial Bible
French (St. Omer), c. 1190-1200
The Hague, Koninlijk Bibliotheek
MS KB 76 F 5, fol. 12v (detail)
Here the angels look like they are tidying Jesus up 
following His confrontation with Satan.
“The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert,
and he remained in the desert for forty days,
tempted by Satan.
He was among wild beasts,
and the angels ministered to him.”

Mark 1:12-13
Excerpt from the Gospel for the First Sunday of Lent, Year B

All three Synoptic Gospels relate that Jesus spent a period of 40 days and nights in the desert immediately following His Baptism in the Jordan by John the Baptist and the dramatic recognition given by Heaven to this event. The number 40 obviously has resonance with such Old Testament events as the 40 days and nights of the Great Flood (Genesis 7:9), the 40 days and nights that Moses was on Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments from God (Exodus 24:18) and the 40 years in which the Hebrews wandered in the wilderness (Numbers 14:32-34).  Mark’s reference to the Temptation of Jesus is the shortest of the three. Matthew (Matthew 4:1-11) and Luke (Luke 4:1-13) both describe in detail the temptations tried by Satan, temptations to power and pride, which Jesus resisted. All three agree that at the end of these 40 days and nights, Jesus was tired and hungry.
Maitre Francois, Temptation of Christ
From City of God by Saint Augustine of Hippo
French, c. 1475-1478
The Hague, Meermano Museum
MS RMMW 10 A 11, fol. 423r (detail)
The scene of the angels ministering takes place at a table in the far background,
behind the two scenes depicting the temptations.

Both Mark and Matthew conclude their descriptions with a reference to ministering angels who attend Him at the end of the time.

Unlike the temptations themselves, which are frequently depicted in art over the ages, the ministering angels are not seen that often. They appear in a few medieval manuscripts, usually in the background of a scene of the temptations.

Similarly, they appear this way in Renaissance depictions of the temptations.

Sandro Botticelli, The Temptations of Christ
Italian, c. 1481-1482
Vatican City, Sistine Chapel
Again the scene of the ministering angels takes place in the deep background, at the very top of the right side, beside the scene of Christ driving Satan away.

Botticelli, Temptation of Christ (detail)
The ministering angels set the table, while Jesus drives Satan away.
There were many depictions of the scene made between the 17th and 19th centuries.  In these the angels take on more of an active role, as waiters or foragers.

Cristofano Allori, Christ Ministered To By Angels
Italian, Early 17th Century
Florence, Uffizi Gallery
In some pictures of the aftermath of the temptation, the angels are presented almost as if they were winged waitresses, presenting trays laden with fruit.

Francisco Pacheco and Diego Velazquez, Angels Minister to Christ in the Wilderness
Spanish, c.1616
Castres, Musee Goya

Jacques Stella, Christ Ministered To By Angels
French, c. 1635-1640
Portland (OR), Portland Art Museum

Jacques Stella, Christ Ministered To By Angels
French, 1650
Florence, Uffizi Gallery

Charles de La Fosse, Christ Ministered To By Angels
French, c. 1685-1695
St. Petersburg, State Hermitage Museum

Alessandro Magnasco with Antonio Peruzzini, Christ Served by Angels
Italian, c, 1705
Madrid, Museo Nacional del Prado

Many of the images appear overly pretty and sentimental. They are part of the trend that gave us the “gentle Jesus meek and mild” imagery that “domesticated” Jesus and lead to the current view of angels as rather fluffy, even cuddly beings, which they are not.

Christian Wink, Christ Ministered to by Angels
German, c. 1769-1770
Augsburg, Deutsche Barockgalerie

Thomas Cole, Christ Ministered To By Angels
American, 1843
Worcester (MA), Museum of Art

One artist did not follow this trend – James Jacques Tissot. In his interpretation of the phrase “angels ministered to him” the scene becomes something beyond a sort of supernatural room service and touches on the mystery that surrounds the Incarnate Word of God and His angels.

In this image, Jesus lies prostrate on the ground, His arms outstretched as if already on the Cross. He is surrounded by row upon row of faintly seen, blue tinged airy spirits, each of whose heads bears a star-like flame. Through his use of thin layers of color to represent the angels against the darkness of the night sky Tissot captures the hue of moonlight. Here, however, their moonlit color comes not from themselves, nor from the sun, but from the Incarnate Son who lies before them.  Further, by his distortion of proportions (a few of the angels have arms that would be impossibly long for most human beings) he emphasizes the non-human nature of these spirits. They offer Jesus, not material, bodily refreshment, but spiritual sustenance, consolation and adoration.

James Tissot, Christ Ministered To By Angels
French, c. 1886-1894
New York, Brooklyn Museum
As the Brooklyn Museum explains it “Rejecting art-historical traditions in which Jesus takes material sustenance in the form of dates and pomegranates, Tissot insisted on otherworldly agency. Here blue-hued, flame-haired angels extend their fingers to touch the prostrate form of the exhausted Jesus, who appears to assume a cruciform position.”1  Indeed, it is reminiscent of paintings depicting angelic comforters at Jesus’ Agony in the Garden on the night before He died. For, although Jesus is God the Son He is also a human being, humanly exhausted by His encounter with evil and temptation.

© M. Duffy, 2012

Excerpts from the Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States of America, second typical edition © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., Washington, DC. Used with permission. All rights reserved. No portion of this text may be reproduced by any means without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

1.  Comments from the museum website describing the 2009-2010 exhibition of the illustrations of the Life of Christ by James Tissot.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Now Is the Time!

Barthel Bruyn, Vanitas
Dutch, died 1555
Otterlo, Rijksmuseum Krueller-Moeller
The text reads "Everything falls into death;
death is the ultimate limit of things"
“Brothers and sisters:
We are ambassadors for Christ,
as if God were appealing through us.
We implore you on behalf of Christ,
be reconciled to God.
For our sake he made him to be sin who did not know sin,
so that we might become the righteousness of God in him.

Working together, then,
we appeal to you not to receive the grace of God in vain.
For he says:
‘In an acceptable time I heard you,
and on the day of salvation I helped you.’

Behold, now is a very acceptable time;
behold, now is the day of salvation.”
(2 Corinthinas 5:20-21 and 6:1-2)
Second Reading from the Mass for Ash Wednesday*

“Now is the time, now is the day” St. Paul tells us in the portion of Second Corinthians that is read in Ash Wednesday Masses as we commence the annual observance of the penitential season of Lent. St. Paul is reminding us, quite passionately, that we must not waste time and wait for “tomorrow” to seek forgiveness and reform our lives. The time is now, for “tomorrow” may not come.

This same sense of the swift passage of time and the terrible instability of life inform a type of painting that appeared during a relatively short time in the history of Western art. These are in the genre of still life paintings known as the “Vanitas”.

Jacob de Gheyn II, Vanitas
Dutch, 1603
New York, Metropolitan Museum
The inscription above the mirror reads "Human Vanity"

Vanitas (vanity) paintings began to appear in the 16th century, but reach their peak numbers during the 17th century and disappear during the 18th century. Sometimes they are also called 'memento mori' (remember death) paintings. 

They were popular throughout northern Europe, including the Netherlands, France, England and Spain.  Therefore, they cut across the Catholic/Reformed religious divide of European society at the time.

The era in which they were popular was one filled with European wars (wars of religion, the Thirty Years War, the wars of Louis XIV), epidemics (the Plagues of Seville, London, Vienna) and "the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to". 

Early images were fairly simple, often consisting of little more than a skull and extinguished candle and, possibly, an inscription attesting to the fragility of things (see above).

Over time more items were added.  Flowers, with their transient beauty, were obvious early additions.

Later on, the scenes became more and more crowded with objects of all kinds: musical instruments, books, drawings, crowns (both regal and papal), armor, clocks, money, mirrors, scientific instruments, statues, objects made of glass, bubbles, etc.

Pieter Boel, Vanitas
Flemish, 1663
Lille, Musee des Beauz-Arts

Vincent Laurenzoon van der Vinne I
Dutch, post-1649
Paris, Louvre
The inclusion of the crown and the portrait of King 
Charles I of England references the king's execution 
in January 1649

Simon Renard de Saint-Andre, Vanitas
French, 1650
Lyons, Musee des Beaux-Arts

Most often these works are devoid of people.  However, very occasionally they are populated, though not always by the living. In some, the skull is replaced by a complete skeleton (related to the skeletons that often appear during the same time period in tomb sculpture).

The greatest of these is the painting in the Hospital de la Caridad in Seville, Spain by the painter Juan de Valdes-Leal.  The skeleton, who is Death, is armed with scythe, shroud and coffin.  His bony hand extinguishes a candle and simultaneously points to an inscription that translates as "in the twinkling of an eye", a reminder of how quickly death devours earthly achievements.  
Juan de Valdes-Leal, Vanitas
Spanish, 1670-1672
Seville, Hospital de la Caridad

Occasionally an artist painted a self-portrait of himself as part of a Vanitas composition. Initially, the artists painted themselves as tiny reflections in shiny surfaces within the assemblage of still life, such as metal or glass objects.  However, as the17th century advanced, some began to paint themselves into the picture, as living examples of transience.  There is some debate about the meaning of these curious self-portraits.  Are they perhaps painted as an act of penitence?  Or are they clever demonstrations of the artist's power to overcome transience through his or her art?1

Clara Peeters, Still Life with Flowers and Gilded Objects
Dutch, 1612
Karlsruhe, Kunsthalle
Here the artist's self-portrait is in the form of several identical teeny reflections in the tall cup on the right.

Clara Peeters, Detail of Still Life with Flowers and Gilded Objects showing 
the tiny self-portraits of the artist at her easel reflected in the shiny surface of the 
decorative knobs on the cup.

Pieter Clauszoon, Vanitas with Glass Ball
Dutch, 1628
Nuremberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum
The self-portrait in this work is a reflection in the glass ball.
David Bailly, Self-Portrait with Vanitas Symbols
Dutch, 1651
Leiden, Stedelijk Museum De Lakenhal
In this picture the artist not only paints himself, he may also be playing with the idea of the transience of time.  The relevant quotation here is "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity".  It appears, in Latin, on the sheet of paper drooping from the table at the far right.  It has been proposed that the actual self-portrait is the painted minature being held by the artst who is self-portrayed as a young man.  By painting himself in two stages of life is he commenting on the transience of existence or is he demonstrating that his artistic skill can transcend time?
Edwaert Collier, Self-Portrait with Vanitas
Dutch, 1684
Private Collection
On the right of this picture is a sheet of paper which reads "Vita Brevis, Ars Lunga" (Life is short, art is long).
This spells out the ambiguity of some of these self-portrait images, reminders of both mortality and of the power of art.

Angels sometimes appeared as well. The Spanish painter Antonio de Pereda included angels in some of his works. In his Allegory of Vanity (1634), the angel holds a miniature portrait of the Emperor Charles V.  The angel balances it on a globe, and points to a location which appears to be somewhere off the northern coast of South America. Since Charles was long dead when the picture was painted, this may be a reference to the fact that Charles’ dominion over the New World availed him nothing against death.
Antonioi de Pereda, Vanitas
Spanish, 1634
Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum

Similarly, the angel in the Knight’s Dream holds a banner which proclaims in Latin 'Eternally stinging, it flies and kills quickly”. “It” is the bow and arrow drawn in the center of the banner, a reminder that death can come quickly and make the items of vanity spread on the table in front of the dozing knight utterly worthless. 
Antonio de Pereda, The Knight's Dream
Spanish, 1655
Madrid, Academia Real

The meaning behind all these paintings is that of St. Paul, now is the time to repent.

© M. Duffy, 2012
*  Excerpts from the Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States of America, second typical edition © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., Washington, DC. Used with permission. All rights reserved. No portion of this text may be reproduced by any means without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

1.  For a review of the arguments see:  Celeste Brusati, "Stilled Lives:  Self-portraiture and self-reflection in seventeenth-century Netherlandish still-life painting", Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art, Vol. 20, No. 2/3 (1990 - 1991), pp. 168-182 at

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Illustrating Miracles: The Hole in the Roof

Master of the Registrum Gregorii, Jesus Heals the Paralytic
From the Codex Egberti
German (Reichenau), 977-993.
Trier, Stadtbibliothek
MS StB Hs 24, Unknown folio
“When Jesus returned to Capernaum after some days,
it became known that he was at home.
Many gathered together so that there was no longer room for them,
not even around the door,
and he preached the word to them.
They came bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men.
Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd,
they opened up the roof above him.
After they had broken through,
they let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying.
When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic,
"Child, your sins are forgiven."
Now some of the scribes were sitting there asking themselves,
"Why does this man speak that way? He is blaspheming.
Who but God alone can forgive sins?"
Jesus immediately knew in his mind
what they were thinking to themselves,
so he said, "Why are you thinking such things in your hearts?
Which is easier, to say to the paralytic,
'Your sins are forgiven,'
or to say, 'Rise, pick up your mat and walk?'
But that you may know
that the Son of Man has authority to forgive sins on earth"
-he said to the paralytic,
"I say to you, rise, pick up your mat, and go home."
He rose, picked up his mat at once,
and went away in the sight of everyone.
They were all astounded
and glorified God, saying, "We have never seen anything like this."
(Mark 2:1-12) Gospel for the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B*

When I was a small child, somewhere around age 4 or 5, my then parish church, located on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, sponsored a campaign to encourage parishioners to read the Bible. As part of that campaign, several Douay-Rheims translations of the Bible,1 in various price ranges, were made available. My parents opted for the deluxe offering, a beautiful volume, bound in leather, with gilt-edged pages and red lettering for the statements of Jesus. 2  It also came with several sections that included maps and descriptions of biblical history, explanations of the Rosary and the Mass, plus a glossary and footnotes and a section for recording important family events. For me, however, the best feature of all was the illustrations. It was elegantly illustrated with both series of biblical illustrations by James Tissot. Unbeknownst to me at the time, both series have a New York connection. The Old Testament illustrations are now in the Jewish Museum, a few blocks from my current residence; while the New Testament scenes are in the collection of the Brooklyn Museum, just across the East River.

At the time this volume entered our house I was too small to be able to read. So, like our illiterate ancestors in ages past, I looked at the pictures. They were fascinating. I knew some of the stories because I had listened at Mass to the Gospel readings (at that time the only portion of the Mass that was in English). As I learned to read, I read the captions and eventually proceeded to being able to connect the captions to the biblical passages from which they derived. Although I now own a variety of Bibles in several translations and editions, I still treasure this book and its pictures.

Among the illustrations that most fascinated me as a child was the scene described in the text of the Gospel for this Sunday. In this Gospel citizens of Capernaum bring their paralyzed family member or friend to Jesus, confident that He will heal their friend, IF they can reach Him. Blocked by the crowds surrounding Jesus, they climb onto the roof of the house where He is staying, tear a hole in it and lower their friend down into His presence. Tissot’s depiction, based on careful research gained from extended trips to the Middle East, seems very real and immediate. The strong composition, in which the downward motion of the descending paralytic, his arms spread wide, is met by the upward moving gestures of those who have risen to support him, leads down in a descending curve to the true focus of the picture, the seated Jesus, raising His arms in welcome and blessing. The picture is a dynamic, realistic product of a century of realism.

James Tissot, Healing of the Paralytic
French, 1886-1894
New York, Brooklyn Museum

Earlier depictions were less so. Lacking both the ability and the interest to create a realistic vision, early depictions seem to have an almost fairytale quality. For example, a mosaic of the subject, composed around the year 500 for the Arian church of Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna shows Jesus, depicted in larger-than-life-size (to underline His divine status), standing with a slightly smaller disciple, while the friends of the paralytic lower him from the roof of a building. The paralytic and his friends are represented as extremely small figures, indicating their simple human status.  Moreover, the imprecise perspective in which the building is depicted makes it difficult to tell whether the paralyzed man is being lowered to the inside of the building or to the outside.

Jesus Healing the Paralytic
Byzantine, ca. 500
Ravenna, Sant' Apollinare Nuovo

A very similar scene is found in a   12th-century pictorial Bible from the Abbey of St. Bertin in France. Again we see a cut-away view of the house, in which a giant-sized Jesus sits, addressing a crowd of smaller figure. Through the hole in the roof, which resembles a chimney, two men lower the paralytic. But the two men are so nearly obscured by what appear to be towers that the overall first impression makes it seem as if the paralytic is descending from above without assistance.

Christ Healing the Paralytic
From a Pictorial Bible
France (St. Omer), ca. 1190-1200
The Hague, Koninklijk Bibliotheek
MS KB 76 F 5, fol. 14r (detail)

In the mosaics decorating the cathedral of Monreale in Sicily, executed around 1200, the hole in the roof has completely disappeared and the friends appear to lower the invalid, on his bed, from the edge of the roof, almost as if the building had a Roman-style atrium.  Also of note is the fact that Jesus no longer appears to be as big as the house.  He has assumed more human dimensions.
Christ Healing the Paralytic
Sicilian, ca. 1200
Monreale, Cathedral
This demonstrates that, although we often think of Byzantine influence as being anti-naturalistic, more abstract and symbolic, here the later Byzantine style brings a greater naturalism than we see in the nearly contemporary work from the Abbey of St. Bertin.

A later, 15th century work, the Meditationes vitae Christi, illustrated by the Master of the Harvard Hannibal, and made for King Henry V of England around 1420, places the hole in the roof, but sets the descent, somewhat illogically, outside the house. This represents a period in which the artist appears to be struggling with the correct use of perspective.

Master of the Harvard Hannibal, Jesus Healing the Paralytic
From Meditationes vitae Christ by Pseudo-Bonaventure
French (Paris), c. 1420
London, British Library
MS Royal 20 B IV, fol. 59v

By the turn of the 17th century perspective difficulties had been overcome and the indoor location of the event could be presented properly. This can be illustrated by the work of two Flemish artists, Marten de Vos and Anton Wierix, done for Catholic editions of the Bible around 1600.3   Typical of the style prevalent at the time, the compositions are crowded and somewhat difficult to read, particularly the de Vos. But it is clearly obvious that the invalid has been lowered from the opening in the roof.

Anton Wierix, Christ Healing the Paralytic
From Evangelicae historiae imagines byJerome Nadal
Flemish, 1593-1595

Marten de Vos, Christ Healing the Paralytic
Flemish, ca. 1600
Bolton (England), Bolton Museum

It remained for the late 19th-century painter, Tissot, to present us with a dramatic, readable and realistic image.

© M. Duffy, 2012
*  Excerpts from the Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States of America, second typical edition © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine, Inc., Washington, DC. Used with permission. All rights reserved. No portion of this text may be reproduced by any means without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

1.  See  For a discussion of how the Douay-Rheims translation was influential in the Authorized Version (known as the King James Bible) see Nicolson, Adam.  God's Secretaries:  The Making of the King James Bible, New York, HarperCollins, 2003.

2.  The Holy Bible, The Catholic Press, Inc., 1950.


Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Saint of Romance? (with addendum)

Jean de Montbason, St. Valentine of Terni
from Lives of the Saints
French (Paris), 1325-1350
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 183, fol. 210
Each year, Christmas decorations and Christmas cards have barely been discounted when a new series of cards and decorative items begin to appear in stores. Store windows suddenly seem to feature nothing but items in reds and pinks. Red seems to be everywhere – on candy shelves, cards, wrapping paper, in florist’s windows, on textiles, you name it. So, we know that Valentine’s Day is upon us. Most people have a dim idea that somewhere back in history there was a St. Valentine and that he had something to do with love. But what and when?

To begin with Valentine is a Roman name (Valentinus) and Valentine is a Roman saint, or at least one of the Valentines from the early Christian centuries about whom we have some sketchy information was described as a Roman priest. Another, contemporary Valentine was the bishop of what is now the city of Terni in Umbria. Since these two Valentines seem to have been martyred in Rome within the same timeframe and are commemorated on the same day, February 14, and both were reported to be buried off the Via Flaminia it is just possible that they may be one and the same person. A third Valentine was martyred in North Africa and is definitely a different person.1

Beyond those bare statements we have no real information, merely legends. According to one legend, Valentine (whether the priest or the bishop) was arrested during a persecution under the Emperor Claudius II Gothicus (268-270), severely beaten and then beheaded.2
Martyrdom of St. Valentine
from Speculum historiale of Vincentius Bellovacensis
French (Paris), ca. 1335
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Arsenal 5080, fol. 197

Pope Julius I (337-352) constructed the basilica of S. Valentino in the vicinity of the present day Piazza del Popolo. (This well-known piazza is the site of the original Porta Flaminiana, where the Via Flaminia entered the walls of Rome and became the Via Lata, the present day Via del Corso).3 This church was one of those frequently included among the churches visited by medieval pilgrims to Rome. 4
Jan van Haelbeck, Martyrdoms of Saints Marius and His Wife Martha and  Their Sons, Saint Cyprianus and
of Saint Valentine
From Ecclesiae Militantis Triumphi, plate 19
Flemish, c. 1600-1620
London, British Museum

Valentine’s association with romantic love comes from later, embroidered, tales of his martyrdom and the date of his feast day. According to some stories Valentine was accused of performing Christian marriages during a period of persecution when the practice of Christianity was considered a crime. This, combined with a later, medieval development cemented his association with romantic love.

The medieval development is recorded in Chaucer’s Parliament of Foules (Parliament of Birds).

For this was on seynt Valentynes day,
Whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make,
Of every kinde, that men thenke may;5

This is in recognition of the observation that it is in the middle of February, around Valentine’s feast day of February 14th, that birds begin their courtship in preparation for the new generation. (As a neophyte birdwatcher, I can attest that birds haven’t changed and that this is still true today. Here in Manhattan a couple of our resident hawks whose partners died during the year (Washington Square and Riverside Park nests) have paired up with new mates, the famous Fifth Avenue hawk pair of Palemale and Lima* are sprucing up their nest and the ducks are cavorting on the lakes doing their amusing courtship dances.)

Visually, St. Valentine has mostly retained his original significance as a martyr. Throughout the Middle Ages he was depicted either as the bishop or as the martyr.
Hans Burgkmair, Saints Valentine, Stephen and Maximilian, Patron Saints of Passau
German, 1503-1505
New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art

The martyrdom scenes sometimes involved discussions with the Emperor Claudius II, as described in the Golden Legend. 6
Richard de Montbason, Martyrdom of St. Valentine
from Golden Legend of Jacobus de Voragine
French (Paris), 1348
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 241, fol. 69

In the late sixteenth century the artist Jacopo Bassano painted an altarpiece of St. Valentine Baptizing St. Lucilla, a subject for which I have been unable to find any literary source.
Jacopo Bassano, St. Valentine Baptising St. Lucilla
Italian, c.1575
Bassano del Grappa, Museo Civico

I could not find anything in the visual record that appears to refer to Valentine as the saint of romance. We appear to owe this identification entirely to Chaucer’s connection of courting birds with the date of February 14th. Nevertheless, this is the identification that has stuck and that has entered the modern secular world.

However, one reference to the real Valentine has also entered that world – the color red. Red is the color of the heart, to be sure, but its main identification is as the color of blood and, hence, the color of martyrdom. That is why priests wear red vestments when saying Mass on the feast days of martyrs. It is also why the cardinals of the Catholic Church “receive the red hat” and why cardinals and the Pope himself wear red as part of their clothing.

St. Valentine
Wood carving, German, ca. 1500
Oppenheim, Parish Church of
St. Bartholemew

So, when you buy those red roses or that red box of chocolates for your beloved, remember that you are also commemorating the blood shed by a martyr over 1,700 years ago. Happy St. Valentine’s Day!

© M. Duffy, 2012

Traveling home up Madison Avenue on Valentine's Day, following an afternoon spent at the New York Public Library on 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue, I couldn't help but notice that, even before the end of the day, many store windows had already switched the dominant color of their displays from red to green -- the color associated with St. Patrick's Day.  Another day, another color, another saint, another story. 

*  Since this was originally published Lima has died.  Palemale's most recent partner is known as Octavia as she is his eighth mate!

1. Thurston, Herbert. "St. Valentine." The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 15., New York, Robert Appleton Company, 1912. Can be accessed at:

2. Butler, Rev. Alban, Lives of the Saints, New York, Benziger Brothers, 1894, pp. 73-74.

3. Krautheimer, Richard. Rome, Profile of a City, 312-1308, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 2000, p. 54.

4. Birch, Debra J. Pilgrimage to Rome in the Middle Ages, Rochester, Boydell and Brewer, Inc. 1998, p. 94.

5. Chaucer, Geoffrey. The Parliament of Foules, lines 309-311 at: See also:

6. The Golden Legend or Lives of the Saints. Compiled by Jacobus de Voragine, Archbishop of Genoa, 1275. First Edition Published 1470. Englished by William Caxton, First Edition 1483, Edited by F.S. Ellis, Temple Classics, 1900 (Reprinted 1922, 1931.), Vol. III at For Claudius Gothicus see:

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Illustrating Miracles: The Leper and the Chapel

Jesus Heals a Leper
From Sermons of Maurice de Sully
Italian (Milan or Genoa), 1320-1330
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 187, fol. 6v
“A leper came to Jesus and kneeling down begged him and said,
"If you wish, you can make me clean."
Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand,
touched him, and said to him,
"I do will it. Be made clean."
The leprosy left him immediately, and he was made clean,
Then, warning him sternly, he dismissed him at once.
He said to him, "See that you tell no one anything,
but go, show yourself to the priest
and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed;
that will be proof for them."
The man went away and began to publicize the whole matter.
He spread the report abroad
so that it was impossible for Jesus to enter a town openly.
He remained outside in deserted places,
and people kept coming to him from everywhere.”
(Mark 1:40-45)
Gospel for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B

The Gospel and First Reading of today’s liturgy, for the Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, focus on leprosy. The First Reading comes from Leviticus, Chapter 13, which lays down rules by which various forms of skin infections can be recognized and dealt with.1 Since there was no real cure for leprosy (it wasn’t discovered until the 1980s2) those who suffered from it were harshly treated, by more or less total exclusion from the community.

In the Gospel reading Jesus responds to the plea of a leper by healing him and then instructing him to follow the rules laid down for lepers who were healed, by going to a priest to show his clean skin and providing an offering in the temple. It is a sign both of His power over nature and of the revelation of a loving, healing God which He represents.

The same story of the healing of one leper is found in the Gospel of Luke (Luke 5:12-14) and there is an additional story of the healing of ten lepers (Luke 17:11-19). Yet, in spite of the fact that there are three references to this subject in the New Testament there seem to be relatively few images of this subject in the art of the West. Among them are:  
Healing of the Leper
Wall Painting, German, 986-1000
Ueberlingen, Chapel of St. Sylvester
The rough surface of this painting suggests that at some point in its history it was plastered over, after the surface had been roughened to provide better adhesion for the new plaster.

Jesus Heals the Leper and the Leper Shows Himself
From Gospel Book of Otto III
German (Reichenau), c. 1000
Munich, Bayerisches StaatsBibliothek
MS Clm 4453, fol. 39

Healing of the Leper
From Gospel Book
German (Ecternach), ca. 1035
Brussels, Bibliotheque royale Albert Ier
MS 9428, fol. 23r

Sometimes, this miracle is illustrated in a painting which includes other scenes. For example, there is a manuscript illumination in the Bibliotheque nationale de France, showing the scene in conjunction with the raising of the widow of Nain’s son (Luke 7:11-17).
Healing of the Leper and Raising of the Widow's Son
From Sepeculum historiale of Vincentius Bellovacinsis
French (Paris), 1463
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 50, fol. 220v
The best known of these images is found in conjunction with the Sermon on the Mount in no less a place than the Sistine Chapel.3   The Sistine Chapel, as is well-known, holds an extremely important place in Catholicism. It is here that various papal ceremonies take place, most notably the meetings of the solemn conclave which follows the death of a Pope, during which his successor is elected. It is also famous for the great paintings by Michelangelo that cover the ceiling. But, this scene is not located on the famous ceiling. It is located on the far less famous side walls.4   These walls are almost certainly overlooked by the vast majority of visitors to the Chapel whose whole attention seems often to be focused solely on the ceiling and the altar wall, which carries Michelangelo’s equally famous painting of the Last Judgment.  

The dual scene painting of the Sermon on the Mount and the Healing of the Leper is by the artist, Cosimo Rosselli.  On the left side of the painting we see Jesus, surrounded by a crowd, delivering the Sermon on the Mount.  In the right hand corner of the picture we see him curing the kneeling leper.

Rosselli was one of a group of artists who were commissioned to decorate the walls of the Chapel, by Pope Sixtus IV della Rovere, who built and decorated it. Sixtus was the uncle of Pope Julius II della Rovere, the Pope who commissioned the great ceiling from Michelangelo.
Cosimo Rosselli, Sermon on the Mount and Healing of the Leper
Italian, 1481-1483
Vatican City, Sistine Chapel
Pope Sixtus commissioned the artists Sandro Botticelli, Pietro Perugino, Domenico Ghirlandaio, Luca Signorelli and Cosimo Rosselli to decorate the Chapel in the period 1480-1483. All but Rosselli are well-known and highly respected masters of the later Quattrocento period. Rosselli is a far less known and less respected artist based in Florence.  However, here in the Sistine he appears to have risen to the occasion, influenced perhaps by the work of the greater artists around him.   

Interior of Sistine Chapel, showing division into three zones
The original decoration of the Chapel was conceived as divided into three zones. In the lowest zone, the decoration consisted of trompe l’oeil representations of draperies, hanging from and between equally fictive architectural elements. (The actual walls of the Chapel are simple, flat structures.) The great Raphael tapestries were later commissioned (by Julius II to cover these painted draperies on special occasions.) 

In the upper zone of the Chapel the original decoration was of images of past Popes. Above this, in the space now occupied by Michelangelo’s masterwork, the ceiling was originally painted a deep blue with golden stars, a very traditional finish.

Meanwhile, in the middle zone, the walls were painted with scenes from the lives of Moses and of Christ. The scenes of Moses fill the south wall, while the Life of Christ occupies the north wall.
Photograph of a recent, rare event -- the hanging of the Raphael Tapestries in their original location.
The Tapestries are usually on display in the galleries of the Vatican Pinacoteca.
The Chapel was consecrated on the feast of the Assumption, August 15, 1483 by Sixtus IV. These middle zone decorations dominated the Chapel for only 25 years, for in 1508 Julius II commissioned Michelangelo to replace the starry ceiling with a new design (originally to have been of the Twelve Apostles) which made it one of the most famous sites in the world and forever eclipsed the work of the earlier painters.
1. For the entire text of Leviticus, 13 see

2. For information on leprosy history and treatment see

3. For information on the Sistine Chapel see:

4. Detailed information on the Sistine Chapel paintings appears on the website of the Vatican Museums, especially information on the south and north walls, which can be accessed from

I also suggest that you visit the virtual tour of the Chapel also located on the Vatican Musuems website at Although it is mainly focused on presenting the Michelangelo ceiling it does give a real sense of how it feels to stand in the room. You are able to zoom in and out on the ceiling frescoes, although it is less reavealing for the frescoes on the side walls.

© M. Duffy, 2012

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Nothing new under the sun and moon

William Blake, Job's Evil Dreams
Plate 11, Illustrations to the Book of Job
British, Watercolor, 1805-1810
New York, Pierpont Morgan Library
Job spoke, saying:
Is not man's life on earth a drudgery?
Are not his days those of hirelings?
He is a slave who longs for the shade,
a hireling who waits for his wages.
So I have been assigned months of misery,
and troubled nights have been allotted to me.
If in bed I say, "When shall I arise?"
then the night drags on;
I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle;
they come to an end without hope.
Remember that my life is like the wind;
I shall not see happiness again.
Job 7:1-4, 6-7  (First Reading, Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year B

The first reading from the Mass for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B should remind us that illness, job stress and nighttime worry is nothing new. And don’t our days frequently feel like this?

This passage also brings to mind an image, taken from some verses further on in the same chapter of Job (Job 7:13-15), from William Blake’s  Illustrations to the Book of Job, issued first as a series of watercolors for his patron, Thomas Butts.  They were later engraved  and published in 1826. Called "Job's Evil Dreams" it well illustrates the sometimes terrifying world of the nightmare. Job lies on his bed, surrounded by flames and tormented by Satan (identified by his cloven foot) and other demons. They press upon him from above and reach up to bind him in chains from below. Truly, they are visions that terrify.

When I say, "My bed shall comfort me,my couch shall ease my complaint,"
Then you affright me with dreams and with visions terrify me,
So that I should prefer choking and death rather than my pains.
Job 7:13-15

William Blake, Job's Evil Dreams
from Illustrations of the Book of Job
British, 1826
New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art

However, Blake’s image and our own reactions are not the only responses possible to Job’s situation. Indeed, they come very late in the history of Christian interpretations of the Book of Job.

Story of Job from Gerard des Moulins, Bible historiale
France, St. Omer, mid 14th century
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 152, fol. 234
Here we can see the entire story (more or less), from the intial conversation between God and Satan, to the destruction of Job's flocks to the death of his children, his harrassing friends and his final restoration.

The Old or Jewish Testament was embraced by Christians from the very beginning. St. Paul’s letters are filled with references from the Jewish Scriptures, and the slightly later canonical Gospels make constant references to them, in quotes used by Jesus, in subtle allusions to situations and events that reflect back to the Scriptures.

 In the Middle Ages and subsequent periods artists had what might be called an external vision of Job’s trials. Images detailed the destruction of his possessions and his family, his torments (often personifying Satan as the agent of them), his conversations with his “friends”.
Job Admonished By His Friends and His Wife
from Gerard des Moulins, Bible historiale
France, Paris, early 15th century
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 3, fol. 255
An interesting feature of the images I located in my search is that, in the main, they come not from Latin language texts (i.e., from illustrations of the Vulgate, works of the Fathers [for instance the Moralia in Job of St. Gregory the Great] or from Books of Hours), but from books written in the vernacular languages of Europe or popular picture books such as illustrated Bibles or the Speculum humanae salvationis, that is from books available to and read by literate lay persons.

Job Tormented By Satan, By His Wife and By Boils
from Speculum humanae salvationis
France, mid-15th century
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 188, fol. 25

Georges de la Tour, Job Mocked By His Wife
French, 1630s
Epinal, Musee departmentale des Vosges

A favorite image was of Job being nagged by his wife. This last is from the same strain of “comic relief” that saw other Biblical nagging wives feature in medieval mystery and morality plays. Mrs. Noah, Mrs. Lot and Mrs. Job were popular characters, their assaults on their husbands moments of fun for the audience.

For these time periods Job was the symbol of patience, of trials patiently endured. He became the model for Everyman.

Maitre de Lucon and Collaborators, Allegory of Patience
from Jacques Legrand, Livre des bons meurs
France, Paris, ca. 1410
Paris, Bibliotheque nationale de France
MS Francais 1023, fol. 15v
In this image a harried mother or nursemaid receives inspiration from the patience of Job as he lies on his dunghill.  (The obviously wriggling children are another reminder that not much actually changes in everyday human life.)
It was only later, during the Romantic period, with its emphasis on the interior emotions and the self, that such a work as Blake’s could have appeared. Although the words of the Biblical text were always there and always available for illustration, they were only looked at when such emotions became attractive to artists and to the public.

© M. Duffy, 2012