Tag: Lucas Cranach

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.

Cranach’s Adam and Eve united in a single frame

Cranach’s Adam and Eve united in a single frame

Lucas Cranach the Elder (German, 1472 – 1553)

Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence

At the Uffizi in Florence, an important restoration has brought new life – and unity – to Lucas Cranach the Elder’s celebrated pair of panels Adam and Eve, together representing the Fall of Man. The Uffizi’s Adam and Eve were most likely created as two coordinated but independent panels, not as one painting later split. They are conceived together as a single composition, and the two works have now been united within a single ebony-style frame, visually and aesthetically restoring the harmony intended by the German master.

Adam and Eve (1528), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 - 1553), Oil on panel, 167x122cm, Galleria degli Uffiuzi, Florence.
After: Adam and Eve (1528), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 – 1553), Oil on panel, 167x122cm, Galleria degli Uffiuzi, Florence.

Cranach and his workshop painted over fifty versions of The Fall of Man. Within those, the Uffizi pair stands out for its design: the figures of Adam and Eve are clearly meant to be seen together and, as such, tell the story of the Fall of Man. Their expressions, gestures, and mutual gaze reveal a dynamic dialogue that is now fully restored. The new frame, inspired by the black ebony frames typical of Central and Northern European collections, enhances this interplay while also protecting the works with conservation glass.

Adam and Eve (1528), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 - 1553), Oil on panel, each 167x61cm, Galleria degli Uffiuzi, Florence.
Before: Adam and Eve (1528), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 – 1553), Oil on panel, each 167x61cm, Galleria degli Uffiuzi, Florence.

Lucas Cranach the Elder’s paintings of Adam and Eve were typically created as a matched pair, with each figure painted on a separate panel intended to be displayed side by side. Though not a single unified panel, the works were conceived as a visual pair, often mirroring each other in pose and scale to create that harmonious composition. This diptych format was popular in Cranach’s workshop, which produced multiple variations on the theme, all maintaining the balance and tension between the figures.

Here are a few other examples: the set from the Kunsthistorische Museum in Vienna; the set from the Norton Simon Museum during restaurantion; and a single panel variation from Würzburg. For an overview of all Cranach’s Adams and Eves, see the Corpus Cranach as supported by the Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg.

Adam and Eve (c.1530), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 - 1553), Oil on panel, each 188x70cm, Norton Simon Museum, Pasadena, California.
The two panels from the Norton Simon Museum, put next to each other during the restauration.
Adam and Eve (c.1530), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 – 1553), Oil on panel, each 188x70cm, Norton Simon Museum, Pasadena, California.

Over the centuries, some of these paired panels were separated, sold individually, and now reside in different collections around the world. Where possible, museums have reunited them, while others display only one half of the original pairing. Though variations exist – including single-panel compositions featuring both figures – Cranach’s most attractive format is the two-panel set, a format emphasizing the duality of the narrative of the seducer and the one being seduced, and allowing for the visual interplay between Adam and Eve.

Adam and Eve (c.1513), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 - 1553), Oil on panel, 72x62cm, Museum für Franken, Würzburg.
Adam and Eve (c.1513), Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472 – 1553), Oil on panel, 72x62cm, Museum für Franken, Würzburg.

Within the visual and theological conventions of the Renaissance, Eve was often portrayed as the seducer, and Adam as the one being seduced. Lucas Cranach the Elder’s paintings reflect this interpretation. His depictions typically follow the traditional Christian narrative in which Eve is the first to take the forbidden fruit and then offers it to Adam, thus leading both into the Fall.

With the operation in Florence, the Uffizi has not only restored the original compositional intent but has also enhanced the storytelling power and visual impact of two masterpieces of the German Renaissance, now united as they were meant to be. The result is a more coherent and powerful narrative of the biblical story of temptation and the fall of humankind. This reframing marks a key addition to the Uffizi’s newly arranged rooms dedicated to Flemish and Northern European painting on the Gallery’s second floor. 

  • About the restoration on the Uffizi website, click here.
  • Some info about visiting the Uffizi in Florence, click here.