Tag: Guido Reni

Saint Sebastian and Saint Roch

Saint Sebastian and Saint Roch

Saints and Symbols in the Age of Pandemic

Recognizing saints in paintings is like solving a hidden picture puzzle, only the clues are palm branches, halos, arrows, a sword, a pilgrim staff, or even sometimes dogs! Once you know what to look for, every museum visit or church interior becomes a visual treasure hunt. This is about a visual language that painters used for centuries to tell stories and signal virtues. But it is not only about symbols. It is also about understanding the role these saints played in the lives of the people who venerated them. In the case of Sebastian and Roch, their images gave people hope and comfort during the darkest periods of the Black Death and recurring plague epidemics. These saints were more than just recognizable figures. They were spiritual companions in times of fear, loss and recovery.

In this crash course, we will meet two saints who are frequently and vividly depicted in western art: Roch and Sebastian. Once you know the tricks and symbols, you will start to see them everywhere and you will know exactly who they are. In short: Sebastian is the one pierced by arrows, Roch is the pilgrim lifting his tunic to reveal a swollen sore on his thigh, the visible sign of the plague disease.

Here are the topics we’ll explore:

Let’s start!

Saint Sebastian: arrows, endurance, and healing

The earliest written account of Sebastian’s life comes from a fifth-century text known as the Passio Sancti Sebastiani. According to this biography, Sebastian was a high-ranking Roman officer under Emperor Diocletian, around the year 300. Though he served at the heart of the Roman Empire, Sebastian was a committed Christian, using his position to support fellow believers and convert others. His defiance did not go unnoticed. When Sebastian continued to preach after being ordered to stop, Diocletian condemned him to death.

Sebastian was tied to a post and shot with arrows; so many that, according to the Passio, his body looked “like a hedgehog.” Remarkably, he survived. A Christian woman named Irene found him still alive, took him into her home, and nursed him back to health.

After being healed by Irene and rather than flee, Sebastian returned to confront the emperor and continue his mission. This time there would be no escape. He was beaten to death with clubs, and his body was thrown into a Roman sewer. Christians later recovered his remains and buried them in the catacombs along the Via Appia, a burial site that became an early pilgrimage destination.

Sebastian’s martyrdom was not just remembered, it grew! During outbreaks of plague in cities like Rome and Pavia, he became known as a powerful intercessor. People turned to him in desperation, hoping for protection or healing. Part of this devotion came from a visual connection: plague often brought painful skin lesions, which to the medieval eye resembled the wounds from arrows that pierced Sebastian’s body. Yet in his story, Sebastian miraculously survives these wounds. If he could heal, perhaps they could too. His body, punctured but intact, became a symbol of endurance and hope in the face of disease.

By the fifteenth century, as waves of plague, typhus, and dysentery overwhelmed European cities, his image spread rapidly in churches, chapels, and altarpieces. Sebastian was no longer just a martyr, but a solitary protector standing between humanity and divine interaction.

For Renaissance artists, Sebastian offered something else: the ideal male nude. His pierced yet miraculously preserved body gave painters a sacred excuse to explore human anatomy, grace, and even sensuality. Painters emphasized his physical beauty, strength, and sometimes his erotic vulnerability. Over time, Saint Sebastian became a complex figure: part Roman soldier, part Christian martyr, part symbol of erotic endurance.

The figure of Irene, who rescues and heals him, became popular in art during the Counter Reformation. She brought a renewed focus on compassion and quiet heroism, a contrast to the spectacle of violence. Her inclusion also emphasized that Sebastian’s story was not just about suffering, but about survival, healing, and of course about unshakable faith.

Saint Roch: the plague pilgrim and his faithful dog

According to tradition, Roch (or Rocco or Rochus) was born around 1348 in Montpellier, just as the Black Death was sweeping across Europe. Orphaned young, he gave away his inheritance, took up the pilgrim’s staff, and devoted himself to caring for plague victims as he traveled through France and Italy. Wherever he went, the sick recovered. His healing touch — and his refusal to abandon the afflicted — made him a figure of immense compassion and courage.

But his life of service eventually turned against him. In the city of Piacenza, Roch himself caught the plague. To avoid infecting others, he withdrew into the forest, prepared to die alone. There, a small miracle occurred: a dog appeared daily, bringing him bread and licking his wounds. Artists portrayed him as a weary pilgrim, often lifting his tunic to reveal a swollen sore on his thigh, the visible sign of plague. He is nearly always accompanied by his faithful dog, a symbol of loyalty, compassion, and daily grace.

Once healed, Roch returned to Montpellier. But his suffering was not over. Mistaken for a spy and unrecognized, he was thrown into prison, where he eventually died. Like Sebastian, Roch became one of the great plague saints of the Renaissance. He was the saint who had been there, not struck down in noble martyrdom, but sick, rejected, exiled, and healed. That made him deeply relatable. For many, he offered a vision of healing and survival through suffering.

His popularity surged during the Counter Reformation, especially in Catholic countries. He appeared in altarpieces, processions, and protective prints, sometimes shown receiving divine inspiration from an angel or being appointed by Christ himself as patron of the plague-stricken.

In Rubens’ dramatic vision, Roch is formally appointed by Christ himself as the patron of the plague victimes. In the upper part of the panel, we see an angel who holds a tablet with the inscription “Eris in peste patronus” which means “You will be the patron in times of plague.” In the lower part of the painting, figures suffering from the disease implore the saint’s protection.

Companions in crisis: Saint Sebastian and Saint Roch together

As plague returned again and again to Europe between the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries, artists and worshippers turned not to one protector, but to two. Saint Sebastian and Saint Roch began to appear side by side, in altarpieces, processions, chapels, and prints, forming a kind of alliance in the battle against disease.

The pairing made sense. Sebastian had endured violence and lived, if only briefly. Roch had fallen ill and survived. One was pierced, the other wounded. Both had skin lesions, which was so very recognisable for the ones suffering from the plague. Artists often placed them at either side of the Virgin and Child, turning them into protective witnesses for the sick and the fearful.

Closing notes

Once you know the clues, it’s easy to identify Sebastian and Roch. The first one with the arrows, tied up and pierced; Roch, the second one, the pilgrim with a swollen plague-sore on his thigh. Sebastian’s idealized, youthful body stands for sacrifice and beauty even in suffering. Roch’s older figure emphasizes humility and compassion. And both of them are on a path of recovery.

Together, they became companions in crisis. In times of fear, they offered a sense that the suffering had been seen, shared, somehow sanctified, and maybe even healed! A visual and spiritual double act, shaped by public need for hope and support in the dark days of the Black Death.

Bonus: Sebastian, Resurrection, and the path to Heaven.

As a bonus, let’s have a look at Sebastian on the Triptych of The Resurrection (c.1490) by Hans Memling from the Louvre, Paris. Three panels, and showing from left to right the path from suffering to heaven.

On the left panel, Sebastian is being pierced by arrows. That is the figure with whom the viewer suffering from the plague or disease might identify. Moving to the central panel, we see the resurrection of Christ from death. That must have given hope to beat the plague and rise and shine again. And to complete the path to healing and salvation, look at the panel on the right, with the ascension into heaven. You can just see Christ’s feet dangling in the top part of the panel, ascending into heavenly light.

So when you suffer from the plague, read this triptych from left to right. Hope to resurrect from the disease and heal. Or alternatively, ascend into heaven. Either way, a happy ending!

Famous Sinners

Famous Sinners

Sin, penance and redemption? Maybe yes, maybe no!

I’ve been meaning to write about Abraham Bloemaert’s engraving series Six Sinners of the Old and New Testament for some years now. The series features the Apostle Peter, the Apostle Paul, Mary Magdalene, the tax collector Zacchaeus, King Saul, and Judas Iscariot. All are marked by sin; some found redemption through penance, while others did not.

What intrigues me is why Bloemaert chose to design this series when he did. He was a devout Catholic working in a time of intense religious conflict: the Protestant Reformation and the Catholic Counter-Reformation. Both movements were promoting their doctrines, and in my view, this series served as a kind of visual “marketing” within Catholic circles – propaganda, if you will – promoting the sacrament of penance, a sacrament explicitly rejected by the Protestants.

To give context, I’ll briefly touch on how penance was viewed in both the Reformation and the Counter-Reformation. And of course, I’ll explore the six figures themselves: What was their sin? What path, if any, led them to salvation or redemption? The topics are as follows:

The recurring question: Sin, Penance and Redemption? The recurring answer: Maybe yes, Maybe no!

Protestant Reformation and Catholic Counter-Reformation

Two key players. On 31 October 1517, Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg, protesting the sale of papal indulgences. This act ignited public debate about corruption in the Catholic Church and its doctrines, sparking the Protestant Reformation. Pope Paul III (born Alessandro Farnese) was the pontiff who convened the Council of Trent in 1545, a major Catholic congress called to address the challenges raised by the Reformation. Recognizing the urgent need for reform, Pope Paul III launched what became known as the Catholic Counter-Reformation. Portrait of Martin Luther (1528), Lucas Cranach the Elder (German, 1472 – 1553), Oil on panel, 40x25cm, Veste Coburg, Kunstsammlungen Coburg, Germany.
Portrait of Pope Paul III (1543), Titian (Italian, 1490 – 1576), 106x85cm, National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples, Italy.

Protestant Reformation

During the Protestant Reformation of the early 16th century, reformers such as Martin Luther and John Calvin challenged many core teachings and practices of the Roman Catholic Church. One of their main targets was the sacrament of penance. In Catholic tradition, penance involved confessing one’s sins to a priest, receiving forgiveness, and performing penitent actions, such as prayer, fasting, or giving to the poor. The protesting reformers rejected this system, arguing that forgiveness came directly from God and could not be earned or managed by church officials.

They believed it was both theologically incorrect and morally questionable for a priest to claim the power to forgive sins in God’s name. In their view, no human had the authority to stand in place of God or to offer spiritual pardon in return for good deeds or, in the worst cases, in exchange for money. Instead, they promoted a more personal relationship with God, in which each individual could seek forgiveness through sincere belief and trust. This view challenged the structure and authority of the Catholic Church.

Catholic Counter-Reformation

In response to these challenges, the Catholic Church began the Counter-Reformation, also known as the Catholic Reformation. This movement aimed to correct abuses within the Church and to clearly define Catholic teaching in the face of Protestant criticism. A central moment in this effort was the Council of Trent, which took place between 1545 and 1563. This Council was a large official gathering of bishops and theologians, similar in function to a modern political party congress or strategy meeting. It shaped the future of Catholic doctrine and practice.

Regarding confession and penance, the Council of Trent firmly upheld traditional beliefs. It confirmed that penance remained one of the Church’s essential sacraments, and that priests continued to play a central role as mediators of God’s forgiveness. The Council taught that people needed to be truly sorry for their sins, confess them honestly to a priest, and follow through with actions that showed a sincere desire to make things right.

In summary, while the Protestant Reformation rejected this framework and emphasized direct faith as the path to forgiveness, the Catholic Church maintained the importance of the sacrament of penance as a structured way to seek reconciliation with God.

The Apostle Peter

Peter is often referred to as a sinner not because of a life marked by immorality, but because of a specific, dramatic moment of human weakness: his so-called “denial.” What happened? On the night of Jesus’ arrest, Peter famously denied knowing Him three times. This betrayal happened just as Jesus had predicted: “Truly I tell you,” Jesus said to Peter, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” When the moment came, Peter acted out of fear for his own life and told the bystanders in the high priest’s courtyard that he did not know Jesus.

After the third denial, in the early morning, the rooster crowed, and Peter remembered Jesus’ words. He went outside and wept bitterly. That moment of bitter weeping marks the beginning of his sorrow and change of heart. Later, in the end, Peter received forgiveness, and the story moves from failure to restoration.

Peter’s sin was not one of malice, but one of fear and denial under pressure. It is a profoundly human failing. Even the most faithful can stumble. That is what makes Peter’s story so relatable for many who look at his image or read about him. His tears, his sorrow, and his return to grace speak to something very close to everyday life: the reality of weakness, the weight of regret, and the hope of forgiveness.

The Apostle Paul

Paul, originally known as Saul of Tarsus, is considered a sinner because of his fierce persecution of early Christians. Before his conversion, Saul actively sought out followers of Jesus, arresting them and approving their punishment.

Paul’s turning point came on the road to Damascus. While traveling to arrest more Christians, he was struck by a great light from heaven and heard the voice of Jesus: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” Blinded and shaken, he was led into the city. After three days, a Christian named Ananias visited him, restored his sight, and baptized him. From that moment on, Saul became Paul, a tireless preacher of the gospel and one of Christianity’s most influential apostles. More about Paul’s conversion can be read in one of my earlier posts, just click here.

Paul’s story is not just about a change of opinion, but about radical transformation. He went from persecutor to preacher, from enemy to evangelist. His life shows that no one is beyond redemption. Like Peter, Paul reminds us that great failure can be the beginning of great purpose.

The tax collector Zacchaeus

Zacchaeus was a chief tax collector in Jericho, a profession despised by many Jews at the time. Tax collectors were seen as collaborators with the Roman occupiers and were often associated with greed and corruption. Zacchaeus was also a wealthy man, likely enriched through questionable means. And he was short in stature, a small detail that becomes important in his story.

When Jesus passed through Jericho, Zacchaeus, eager to catch a glimpse of Him, climbed a tree to see above the crowd. This simple act of curiosity became the start of something much greater. In a striking moment of grace, Jesus looked up, called him by name, and announced that He would stay at Zacchaeus’s house. The crowd was scandalized. But Zacchaeus responded with a bold act of sorrow and penance: he gave half his possessions to the poor and promised to repay anyone he had cheated, four times over.

This almost childlike gesture of climbing the tree, followed by sincere conversion, makes Zacchaeus a powerful image of redemption. In the spirit of the Counter-Reformation, his story reminds us that no sinner is beyond the reach of grace. And visually, the story is unforgettable: that little man perched high in the tree, waiting for a glimpse of mercy.

Mary Magdalene

Mary Magdalene has long been one of the most misunderstood figures in Christian tradition. In many paintings, she is portrayed as a penitent sinner, often assumed to have been a former prostitute. But what was her actual sin? Surprisingly, the Bible never describes Mary Magdalene committing any specific wrongdoing. What we do know is that she was a devoted follower of Jesus, and she was also the first to witness and proclaim the Resurrection, which even earned her the title apostola apostolorum, the apostle of the apostles.

The image of Mary Magdalene as a sinful woman arose from a long-standing confusion of identities. The 6th-century Pope Gregory combined different women into one: the unnamed “sinful woman” who anoints Jesus’ feet and Mary Magdalene. This mix-up led to centuries of tradition in which Mary Magdalene was depicted as the great penitent, weeping for a sinful past that the Bible never assigns to her. During the Counter-Reformation, this image became especially prominent as a symbol of penance and transformation.

Today, both scholars and the Catholic Church have worked to correct the long-standing confusion about Mary Magdalene’s identity. In 1969, the Church officially separated her from the unnamed “sinful woman”, and in 2016, Pope Francis elevated her memorial to the rank of an official Feast Day (July 22nd). Far from being a scandalous sinner, Mary Magdalene is now recognized as a figure of faith, devotion, and spiritual strength. Her story also reminds us of the central and active role women played in the early Church. During the Counter-Reformation, however, the image of a sinful and penitent Magdalene remained popular as a powerful and visually attractive way to promote the message of penance.

King Saul

King Saul, the first king of Israel around the 11th century BC, died not in triumph but in despair. Saul began his reign with promise, but over time, he disobeyed divine commands, acted out of fear rather than faith, and slowly lost all favor. Saul admitted fault but never showed deep regret, making his decline inevitable.

This engraving captures Saul’s final act: his death on the battlefield. Surrounded by Philistine forces and facing defeat, Saul chose to fall on his own sword. His armor-bearer (on the right) followed him in death. In the foreground, the fallen spear and crown say everything: symbols of royal authority, now useless and abandoned. Unlike the later King David, who would sin grievously but find forgiveness, Saul dies without reconciliation, without peace, and without a legacy of redemption.

King Saul suffers from depression and is soothed by the young David who plays the harp for him. In a particularly striking detail, Saul dries his tears on the curtain. But Saul will soon fly into a rage and throw his spear at David.
Saul and David (c.1651), Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606 – 1669), Oil on canvas, 130x165cm, Mauritshuis, The Hague.

Saul’s story is a tragedy, and the image of his death speaks to the cost of pride, fear, and spiritual isolation. For viewers in the time of the Counter-Reformation, this image served as a stark moral warning: Saul had the chance to seek forgiveness, but he let that chance slip away. His death without sorrow and regret becomes a cautionary mirror, urging the faithful not to delay, but to turn to God in penitence while there is still time. In a visual culture that promoted penitence, Saul stands as a missed opportunity, a soul lost not by one great sin, but by failing to seek mercy. In the context of Bloemaert’s Series of Sinners, the figure of Saul serves to dramatize this failure, a counterpoint to the earlier figures who, though sinners, found their way back to grace.

Judas Iscariot

Judas Iscariot’s betrayal of Jesus is one of the most well-known episodes in the New Testament, and artists across centuries have visualized different moments of his story. Bloemaert’s print takes the story to its final stage. Judas is shown preparing to hang himself, with the purse with the thirty silver pieces, the bribe that triggered him to betray Jesus, lying beside him as a reminder of the irreversible deed. In the context of the Counter-Reformation, this image would have served as a moral lesson. Judas feels sorrow, but instead of seeking forgiveness, he condemns himself.

In the manuscript illustration hereunder, showing the Kiss of Judas, he approaches Jesus with a gesture of affection that is, in fact, a signal to the arresting soldiers. In his hand, he holds the purse containing the thirty silver pieces he had already received as payment for delivering Jesus to the authorities. The image captures the moment of betrayal as it happens.

In Rembrandt’s painting, we see Judas shortly after the arrest. He is no longer defiant; instead, he is overwhelmed with remorse. He returns to the temple, trying to give back the silver, but the priests refuse to take it. Judas throws the coins to the ground in despair. Rembrandt shows him in a deeply human moment, tormented by guilt, isolated, and desperate for a resolution that does not come. This scene is not about the betrayal, but about the aftermath and the silence that follows rejection.

Judas Returning the Thirty Silver Pieces (1629), Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606 – 1669), Oil on panel, 79x102cm, Private Collection.

Like King Saul, Judas becomes an example of despair without redemption. That’s why Counter-Reformation artists like Bloemaert depict Judas not simply as a sinner, but as a warning: sorrow without grace and penance leads to despair, not redemption.

Closing Notes

Artists and theologians of the Catholic Counter-Reformation strongly reaffirmed the Church’s essential role in the process of redemption. Abraham Bloemaert, a devoted and almost militant Catholic, stands firmly within this tradition. His series of prints depicting six biblical “sinners”, including Peter, Paul, Mary Magdalene, Saul, Judas, and Zacchaeus, offers the viewer a choice: to remain in sin or to be transformed through confession and penance. Through vivid visual storytelling, Bloemaert underscores a central Catholic message: no soul is beyond salvation, and the path to healing lies in turning back to the Church and its sacraments of confession and penance.

Bloemaert’s six engravings are a visual theology. They present a direct rebuttal to Protestant skepticism and a defense of the Catholic practice of confession and penance. His series are a great example of marketing and promoting the ideas of the Catholic Counter-Reformation, and rejecting the Protestant Reformation.

More simply put: Sin, Penance, and Redemption? Maybe yes, maybe no!

Bonus: Zacchaeus in the Palm Tree?

Here’s a little bonus, a curious and funny mix-up of stories and imagery. The story of Zacchaeus is part of Jesus’ entry into Jericho. Zacchaeus, being short, climbs a tree to get a better view of Jesus as he passes by. But Jesus also made another notable entry, into Jerusalem. It’s a different event, but visually it looks quite similar: Jesus on a donkey, a crowd greeting him. At Jerusalem, people laid down cloaks and branches — especially palm leaves — to create a kind of “red carpet” welcome for Jesus, the scene we now celebrate as Palm Sunday.

And here’s the twist. In some early 14th-century artworks with depictions of the Entry into Jerusalem, a little man (sometimes even two) appears high up in a tree again. In my view, this is Zacchaeus imagery that wandered into the wrong story. Somehow, Zacchaeus climbed into the Palm Sunday narrative and stayed there for about a hundred years. The motif disappears again in the early 15th century, but for a while, it added a charming and slightly comical detail to sacred art.

The Conversion of Saint Paul on the Way to Damascus

The Conversion of Saint Paul on the Way to Damascus

“Saul becomes Paul”

The Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul is celebrated on January 25th. This day commemorates the biblical account of the dramatic conversion of Saul, who then becomes the Apostle Paul. According to biblical accounts, Saul was traveling to Damascus with the intention of arresting and persecuting Christians when he experienced a dramatic encounter with a bright light and heard the voice of Christ. Saul fell from his horse as he heard Christ’s words “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me”? or in Latin ”Saule, Saule, quid me persequeris”? This dramatic encounter brought about Saul’s conversion.

The Conversion of St Paul on the Way to Damascus (c.1617), Guido Reni (Italian, 1575 – 1642), 238x179cm, Royal Monastery of San Lorenzo de El Escorial, Spain.

Saul was blinded by the strong light. He was then guided to Damascus where Ananias, a follower of Christ, baptised Saul and miraculously gave him back his eyesight. After his conversion, Saul’s name was changed to Paul, and he is often referred to as Saint Paul or the Apostle Paul.

Christ appears own a cloud, with three angels. The Conversion of Saint Paul (1506), Hans Baldung Grien (German, 1484 – 1545), woodcut, 24x16cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Alternative theories about what happened to Paul on the way to Damascus have been proposed, including sun stroke, struck by lightning and a seizure; or a combination of these. In an article in the Journal of Neurology, Neurosurgery, and Psychiatry (1987), it has been stated , that Paul’s conversion experience, with the bright light, loss of normal bodily posture, a message of strong religious content, and his subsequent blindness, suggested a Temporal Lobe Epilepsy (TLE) attack, and a post-ictal blindness. TLE seizures can affect emotions, behaviour, memory, and consciousness. Symptoms can vary widely and may include unusual sensations, altered sense of reality, déjà vu, hallucinations, or even loss of awareness. Post-ictal blindness refers to a temporary loss of vision that occurs after a seizure. Individuals may experience various neurological symptoms, and a temporary inability to see.

The Conversion of St Paul on the Way to Damascus (c.1680), Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (Spanish, 1617 – 1682), 125x169cm, Prado, Madrid.
The Conversion of St Paul on the Way to Damascus (c.1602), Adam Elsheimer (German, 1578 – 1610), Oil on Copper, 20x25cm, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main.
The Conversion of St Paul on the Way to Damascus (c.1527), Francesco Mazzola aka Parmigianino (Italian, 1503 – 1540), 178x129cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.
The Conversion of St Paul on the Way to Damascus (1601), Caravaggio (Italian, 1571 – 1610), 230x175cm, Cerasi Chapel, Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome.
The Conversion of Saint Paul (1509), engraver Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, 1498 – 1533) after his own design, engraving, 28x41cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

According to the New Testament, after Saul had his encounter with the bright light on the road to Damascus and heard the voice of Christ, he was left blinded. The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they had heard the sound but did not see anyone. Paul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. For three days he was blind. In Damascus he met with Ananias, who laid hands on him, and something like scales fell from Saul’s eyes, restoring his sight. Ananias then baptized Saul, who took on the name Paul.

The Conversion of Saint Paul, print 15/34 from the series Acts of the Apostles (1582), engraver Philip Galle (Netherlandish, 1537 – 1612) after design by Maerten van Heemskerck (Netherlandish, 1498 – 1574), engraving, 21x27cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington.
Ananias Restoring the Sight of Saul (1719), Jean Restout (French, 1692 – 1768), 99x80cm, Louvre, Paris.
The conversion of St Paul on the way to Damascus and the baptism of St Paul by Ananias (c.1190), Fol 24v from the Picture Bible from the Benedictine Abbey of St. Bertin, France, 11x15cm, Koninklijke Bibliotheek, National Library of the Netherlands, The Hague.
The Apostle Paul with in the background the story of his conversion, including the words: “Saule, quid me persequeris” or “Saul, why are you persecuting me”?.
Saint Paul, print 5/6 from the series Sinners of the Old and New Testament (c.1610), engraver Willem Isaacsz. van Swanenburg (Netherlandish, 1580 – 1612) after design by Abraham Bloemaert (Netherlandish, 1564 – 1651), Rijkmuseum, Amsterdam.

After his conversion, Paul dedicated himself to spreading the teachings of Christianity. He embarked on several missionary journeys, established Christian communities, and wrote numerous letters (epistles) that are an integral part of the New Testament. His writings and teachings have had a profound impact on the development of the early Christian Church.

The Seven Sacraments

The Seven Sacraments

Rogier van der Weyden’s altarpiece (c.1445)

Last week, I visited the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp, with a specific goal in mind: Rogier van der Weyden’s masterpiece, “The Seven Sacraments”. My visit was not solely to admire this exquisite triptych but also to delve deeper into the meaning of the seven sacraments. This exploration hereunder will be guided by seven works of art as visual narratives, with Van der Weyden’s triptych serving as our starting point.

In the interior of a Gothic church, Rogier van der Weyden has depicted two interconnected scenes. The Crucifixion is the main scene, with smaller episodes in the aisles of the church on the side panels and in front of the main altar in the central panel, forming the second scene: the “Seven Sacraments”. From left to right, we see Baptism, Confirmation, Confession, the Eucharist, Ordination, Marriage and the Anointing of the Sick. This church is a microcosm of medieval society, with rich and poor, young and old, all together on these three panels.
The Seven Sacraments (c.1445), Rogier van der Weyden (Flemish, c.1399 – 1464), 200x223cm, Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp.
On the left panel from the front towards the back:
Baptism: initiation into the Christian faith involving water, symbolising purification of sins and rebirth.
Confirmation: children receive the Holy Spirit and become full members of the church, with anointing and laying on of hands by a priest or bishop.
Confession: forgiveness of sins through confession to a priest, and with penance if appropriate.
On the central panel, behind the Crucifiction and in front of the main altar:
Eucharist: the communion or the Lord’s Last Supper, it involves the consumption of bread and wine as symbols of Christ’s body and blood.
On the right panel, from the back towards the front:
Ordination: individuals are ordained as priests, to serve the church.
Marriage: symbolizing the union of two individuals in a lifelong partnership.
Anointing of the Sick: spiritual and physical healing, often administered to those who are seriously ill.

The Seven Sacraments in seven paintings

Baptism

Baptism is the sacrament of regeneration and initiation into the Church that was begun by Jesus, who accepted baptism from St. John the Baptist. Baptism is understood, therefore, as the annulment of one’s sins and the emergence of a completely innocent person.

Christ stands in a shallow, winding stream as Saint John the Baptist reaches up to pour a small bowl of water over his head. John had been preaching, encouraging people to repent of their sins and to be baptized: the river’s water symbolized the washing away of sin. The river is considered the river Jordan.
The Baptism of Christ (c.1440), Piero della Francesca (Italian, c.1417 – 1492), Egg Tempera on Poplar, 167x116cm, National Gallery, London.

Confirmation

A sacrament that is conferred through the anointing with oil and the imposition of hands, Confirmation is believed to strengthen or confirm the grace bestowed by the Holy Spirit at baptism. The Confirmation rite is a relatively simple ceremony that is traditionally performed during the Mass by the bishop, who raises his hands over those receiving Confirmation and prays for the bestowal of the Holy Spirit. He then anoints the forehead of each confirmand with holy oil and says, “Accipe Signaculum Doni Spiritus Sancti” (“Be sealed with the gifts of the Holy Spirit”).

This work depicts the moment when the Holy Ghost, in the form of flames, rests on the Virgin and the Apostles, as happend during pentecost day in Jerusalem.
Pentecost (c.1600), El Greco, (Greek and Spanish, 1541 – 1614), 275x127cm, Prado, Madrid.

Confession

This sacrament of reconciliation or penance, reflects the practice of restoring sinners to the community of the faithful by confessing one’s sins to a priest. The Roman Catholic Church claims that the absolution of the priest is an act of forgiveness. To receive it, the penitent must confess all serious sins, manifest genuine sorrow for sins, and have a reasonably firm purpose to make amends. The sacrament of confession was rejected by most of the Reformers on the grounds that God alone can forgive sins, and not through a priest.

John the Baptist was a hermit, living in the wilderness, calling on all who would listen to repent their evil ways, and of course, all in the name of God. That’s why he is pointing towards heaven. John the Baptist thus preached confession, repentance, and being baptized to be totally cleansed of any sins.
Saint John the Baptist in the Wilderness (c.1636), Guido Reni (Italian, 1575 – 1642), 225x162cm, Dulwich Picture Gallery, London.

Eucharist

The Eucharist (from the Greek word “εὐχαριστία” which means “thanksgiving”) is the central act of Christian worship, also known as Holy Communion and the Lord’s Supper. The rite was instituted by Jesus at the Last Supper when he blessed the bread, which he said was his body, and shared it with his disciples. He then shared a cup of wine as his blood. Jesus called on his followers to repeat the ceremony in his memory. It is a commemoration of his sacrifice on the cross.

The focus in this painting is on Christ, serene and triumphant at the moment of consecrating the bread and wine, amidst the apostles at the Last Supper. The bread in the form of the Sacred Host.
The Last Supper (c.1556), Juan de Juanes (Spanish, c.1504 – 1579), 116x191cm, Prado, Madrid.

Ordination

Ordination is a sacrament essential to the church, as it bestows an unrepeatable, indelible character upon the priest being ordained. The essential ceremony consists of the laying of hands of the bishop upon the head of the one being ordained, with prayer for the gifts of the Holy Spirit and of grace required for the carrying out of the ministry.

Christ orders Peter to feed the sheep, meaning that he actually charges Peter to take care of the believers. That’s how Peter became a priest and the first pope of the Catholic Church. Raphael here combines the story with giving Peter the keys to the kingdom of heaven.
Christ’s Charge to Peter (c.1515), Raphael (Italian, 1483 – 1520), cartoon as design for the tapestry for the Sistine Chapel, 343x532cm, Royal Collection Trust, Victoria & Albert Museum, London.

Marriage

Marriage as a sacrament, also known as holy matrimony, is the covenant by which a man and a woman establish between themselves a partnership for the whole of life, administered in the presence of a priest. However, the inclusion of marriage among the sacraments gives the Roman Catholic Church jurisdiction over an institution that is of as much concern to the state as it is to the church.

Christ and Mary are invited to a wedding at Cana in Galilee. When Mary notices that the wine has run out, Christ delivers a sign of his divinity by turning water into wine. The account is taken as evidence of Jesus’ approval of marriage and earthly celebrations and has also been used as an argument against the total abstinence of alcoholic drinks.
Wedding at Cana (c.1305), Giotto (Italian, 1266 – 1337), Fresco, 200x185cm, Scrovegni Chapel, Padua, Italy.

Anointing of the sick

This sacrament is conferred by anointing the forehead and hands with blessed oil and pronouncing a prayer. It may be conferred only on those who are seriously ill or on elderly people who are experiencing the frailties of old age. In popular belief, anointing is most valuable as a complement to confession or, in the case of unconsciousness, as a substitute for it. Anointing is not the sacrament of the dying; it is the sacrament of the sick.

This painting shows Christ’s mission to save the unfortunate and heal the sick. Christ is opening the eyes of a blind man, who kneels at his feet. His dog stares out of the painting, a reminder that soon he will no longer be needed to lead his master. There are three more unfortunate individuals: a lame beggar, with a crutch and a bowl, and two madmen. One of the latter is manacled, his chain held by a keeper; the other is cured of his possession, as an evil spirit (looking rather like a winged lizard) leaves his mouth. It seems likely that this painting has been commissioned by a hospital where its theme of healing and salvation would have been appropriate.
Christ Healing the Sick (1577), Crispin van den Broeck (Flemish, 1524 – 1591), 91x142cm, Royal Collection Trust, Windsor Castle.