Tag: Lucas van Leyden

Hagar and her son Ishmael

Hagar and her son Ishmael

Ishmael and Isaac: children of one father.

It took me a few years writing this story about Hagar and her son Ishmael, and about Abraham, Ishmael’s father. And also about Sarah and her son Isaac, who is Ishmael’s half-brother. Ishmael and Isaac: they are children of one father.

It’s not difficult to find paintings on this subject. Many artists over the centuries have taken it up, drawn to the emotional and dramatic interaction between the figures. But I hesitated for a long time, because this story stands at a crossroads between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. And over time, the story of Isaac and Ishmael as half-brothers – perhaps quarreling, as brothers do – has been used, or even abused, to explain political and religious tensions, especially in the long struggle between Arabs and Jews.

But that is not the story I want to tell. I want to approach it differently, as a story of shared origin. A story of children of one father.

Here are the topics we’ll explore, following the narrative of the Book of Genesis:

Let’s start!

Abraham, Sarah, Hagar, and Ishmael

Let’s begin at the very beginning. With that odd old couple, Abraham and Sarah, both well over a hundred years old, and still no children! But Sarah has an idea!

Sarah leading Hagar to Abraham (1673), Caspar Netscher (Dutch, 1639 – 1684), 60x51cm, The Leiden Collection, New York.

They had grown old together, and the hope of ever having a child seemed to have faded. In the biblical account, it is Sarah who suggests that Abraham have a child with her young Egyptian maidservant, Hagar. Sarah blamed herself for their childlessness, saying, “The Lord has kept me from having children.” So she offered Hagar to Abraham, hoping to build a family through her. Abraham agreed, and Hagar became pregnant. She gave birth to a son, and they named him Ishmael. Abraham was the father.

Sarah leading Hagar to Abraham (c.1644), Matthias Stom (Dutch, c.1600 – after 1650), 113x168cm, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin.

A son is promised to Sarah

Then comes the next phase in the story. One day, Abraham and Sarah receive an unexpected visitor: an angel! The story makes it clear that this is a messenger of God, appearing in disguise.

Abraham, Sarah, and the Angel announcing the birth of their son (c.1520), Jan Provoost (Netherlandish, c.1465 – 1529), 71x58cm, Louvre, Paris.

The angel’s message sounds completely unbelievable: Sarah, at her advanced age, will have a son within a year. Abraham is told this directly. And he reacts with a gesture, as we see in Jan Provoost’s painting from the Louvre. Pointing toward his wife as if to say, “Her? At her age?” Sarah, standing in the doorway on the right, overhears it. Her reaction is the most human of all: she laughs. The Hebrew text says she laughs “within herself,” a kind of private chuckle of disbelief. One might say: she laughed out loud. The biblical version of LOL.

The name of the promised child will be Isaac, which fittingly means “he laughs.”

Two brothers: Ishmael and Isaac

Now there are two sons, Ishmael and Isaac. Two brothers, both children of Abraham, but from different mothers. Ishmael, the older, is the son of Hagar, Sarah’s Egyptian servant. Isaac, the younger, is the long-awaited child of Sarah, the mistress of the house.

Sarah complains to Abraham about Ishmael, and asking him to send Hagar and Ishmael away (1563), Willem Willemsz. Thibaut (Netherlandish, c.1524 – c.1597), Etching and engraving, 21x24cm, Herzog Anton Ulrich-Museum, Braunsweig, Germany.

Though they share a father, their positions could not be more different. One is born of a servant, the other of a free woman. One is firstborn, the other the child of promise.

The story suggests that there was tension between the boys. They were probably like any brothers, playing, teasing, perhaps quarreling? But Sarah becomes concerned. Or perhaps protective. She sees something, maybe rivalry, maybe mischief, and she is not pleased. In some versions, Ishmael is mocking Isaac. In others, it’s more ambiguous. But Sarah is firm. She turns to Abraham and tells him what she wants: send Hagar and Ishmael away.

In the print above, which I use to illustrate this scene, you can see Sarah speaking to Abraham in the foreground, and in the background, the two boys playing, fighting, hard to tell which. But the tension is there.

Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael away

This next moment in the story has stirred the imagination of many artists. The emotional weight is immense: father and son, torn apart. Hagar, the mother, cast out. And Sarah, determined to protect her own child.

Abraham casting out Hagar and Ishmael (c.1715), Philip van Dijk (Dutch, 1680 – 1753), 50x41cm, Louvre, Paris.

The Bible gives us the core of what happens. Sarah sees the two boys, Isaac and Ishmael, and she turns to Abraham and says, “Get rid of that slave woman and her son. He is not going to share the inheritance with my son, Isaac. I won’t have it.”

Abraham casting out Hagar and Ishmael (1637), Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606 – 1669), Etching and drypoint, 13x10cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Abraham is deeply upset. Ishmael is his son. He does not want to send him away. But he listens, because a voice tells him to. For Abraham that’s the voice of God reassuring him that Isaac is the one through whom the family line will be counted. But God also gives Abraham this promise: “I will make a nation of the descendants of Hagar’s son because he is your son too.” That nation, in Islamic tradition, will be the Arab people. Ishmael is seen as the ancestor of the Arabs, and his role is honored as a founding figure.

Abraham casting out Hagar and Ishmael (c.1653), Gabriel Metsu (Dutch, 1629 – 1667), Museum De Lakenhal, Leiden, The Netherlands.

So Abraham rises early the next morning. He prepares food, gives Hagar a supply of water, and sends her away with Ishmael. And the two of them wander into the desert.

Abraham casting out Hagar and Ishmael(1612), Pieter Lastman (Dutch, 1583 – 1633), 48x71cm), Hamburger Kunsthalle, Hamburg.

This moment, the sending away, has become a favorite subject for painters and printmakers. And it is easy to see why. It is a perfect scene to show all the emotions: Abraham’s pain, Hagar’s grief, Ishmael’s innocence, Sarah’s determination. And the stillness of the moment before the wilderness swallows them.

Abraham casting out Hagar and Ishmael (1657), Guercino (Giovanni Francesco Barbieri, Italian, 1591 – 1666), 115x152cm, Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan.
Abraham casting out Hagar and Ishmael(1516), Lucas van Leyden (Dutch, 1494 – 1533), Engraving, 15x13cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Hagar and Ishmael in the desert

And so, Hagar and her son Ishmael find themselves alone in the desert. When the water runs out, Hagar breaks. In panic she runs up and down between the hills in the desert, all the time the same circle, and no water!

Hagar in the Wilderness (1835), Camille Corot (French, 1796 – 1875), 180x271cm, Metropolitan, New York.

She places the boy in the shade and walks away, just far enough so she doesn’t have to watch him die. She sits down, weeping. Her words are raw: “I don’t want to watch the boy die.” It’s despair in its purest form. But then something shifts. The text in Genesis tells us that God hears the boy’s cries. An angel calls to Hagar — not one she sees, but one she hears: “Hagar, what’s wrong? Do not be afraid! Go to your boy and comfort him, for I will make a great nation from his descendants.”

Hagar and the Angel (18th Century), Giuseppe Bottani (Italian, 1717 – 1784), 40x73cm, Louvre, Paris.

In that moment, Hagar opens her eyes. And there, suddenly, is a well. Water. Life. She runs to fill her container and gives Ishmael a drink.

Hagar and the Angel (c.1640), Pier Francesco Mola (Italian, 1612 – 1666), 27x35cm, Louvre, Paris.

Ishmael survives. He grows up in the wilderness. He has many children, and through his line, the people of the Arab deserts trace their ancestry. This moment of despair, transformed by courage and grace, becomes the beginning of a nation.

Hagar and the Angel (c.1645), Carel Fabritius (Dutch, 1622 – 1654), 158x136cm, The Leiden Collection, New York.

This story isn’t just one of near-death and rescue — it’s also a story of inner voice, of resilience pushed into action. The Bible says Hagar heard the angel, not saw him. Perhaps the angel was not a visible figure, but a message rising up from within: “Please do not give up, but give it another try. There is still hope.” In Carel Fabritius’ painting, this is shown beautifully — the angel stands behind Hagar. She does not see him. She hears him, as an inner message of encouragement. And that makes all the difference. The image of Hagar in the desert, distraught and fearing for Ishmael’s life, is also an image of hope. This moment symbolizes the resilience and faith that inspire perseverance, even in the darkest times.

Family reunion

There is something deeply moving in how these family ties circle back. According to Arab tradition, Abraham — known as Ibrahim — and his son Ishmael reconciled later in life. Together, they built the Kaaba in Mecca, which became the spiritual heart of Islam. The well Hagar discovered, now called the Zamzam well, still flows near the Kaaba, inside the Great Mosque.

Abraham is buried by Isaac and Ishmael in the Cave of Machpelah (c.1728), Engraving and etching by Gillian van der Gouwen (South Netherlandish, active 1669 – 1720), after design by Gerard Hoet (Dutch, 1648 – 1733), 36x23cm, Museum of Fine Arts, Ghent, Belgium.

And in the Jewish and Christian traditions, Isaac and Ishmael too found each other again. When Abraham died at the age of 175, it was both his sons, Isaac and Ishmael, who came together to bury him. As it is written in Genesis: “Abraham lived for 175 years, and he died at a ripe old age, having lived a long and satisfying life. He breathed his last and joined his ancestors in death. His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah.”

Ishmael and Isaac and the burial of Abraham, from the series ‘Icones Biblicae’ (c.1625), Matthäus Merian (Swiss, 1593 – 1650), Etching, 11x15cm, British Museum, London.

So perhaps this story, often seen as the origin of division, also carries the seeds of reunion. Two brothers, children of one father!

Bonus: from desert to pilgrimage – Hagar’s legacy in Mecca

To bring the story of Hagar and Ishmael into our present day, we can look to the sacred city of Mecca, where Muslims from around the world travel each year to perform the Hajj, the holy pilgrimage. This city of 2.5 million inhabitants, visited by more than 20 million pilgrims annually, was built on the site in the desert where Hagar found water for Ishmael, named as the Zamzam well.

Great Mosque of Mecca (Masjid al-Haram).

Today, the Great Mosque of Mecca, the Masjid al-Haram, stands on this sacred ground. It is the most holy site in the Islamic world, and within its walls, several locations are directly tied to the story of Hagar, Ishmael, and Abraham (Ibrahim in the Islamic tradition):

  • The Kaaba — the cuboid-shaped building at the heart of the mosque and the most sacred site in Islam. It is the structure that, according to tradition, was built or rebuilt by Abraham and Ishmael, together as father and son.
  • The Hijr Ismail — a semicircular area adjacent to the Kaaba that pilgrims are not to walk upon. It marks the site where Abraham constructed a shelter for Hagar and Ishmael.
  • The Zamzam Well — the water source discovered by Hagar after hearing the angel’s message to keep searching. To this day, pilgrims can receive a five-liter bottle of Zamzam water.
  • Safa and Marwa — two small hills now enclosed within a covered passageway. This is where Hagar, in her desperation, ran back and forth seven times in search of water for her child. That journey is reenacted by pilgrims as part of the Hajj ritual.

So the footsteps of Hagar, a woman alone in the desert, a mother desperately searching for life for her son, are still being followed by millions today. Her strength, her voice, her perseverance have become a foundational memory in the faith of Islam.

Saint Anthony

Saint Anthony

Temptation, Burning Skin Disease, and Care as Cure.

After writing about the prophets Jeremiah and Isaiah, and more recently about Daniel, I feel it’s time to return to the Saints: who they are, and how to recognise them in art. One saint I’ve long wanted to write about is Saint Anthony. There are several saints named Anthony, but I mean Saint Anthony the Great also known as Saint Anthony the Abbot. He is the protector and healer of those suffering from Saint Anthony’s Fire, or Ergotism, which is a burning skin disease combined with hallucinations.

Anthony’s story is also a fascinating example of the difference between care and cure in the history of medicine. The monks of the Antonine order offered such dedicated care to the sick that it was often seen as a cure. And of course, plenty of prayer, that helped too.

The stories around Saint Anthony I’ll be exploring are:

A recurring theme is care as cure; how, in the pre-scientific medical era, the care offered by monks served as both physical and spiritual healing.

Saint Anthony as a historical figure

First, a few words about Saint Anthony and who he was as a historical figure. Anthony was a monk who lived in Egypt during the 3rd and 4th centuries AD. At a young age, Anthony gave away all his wealth and worldly possessions after hearing the Gospel message to ‘sell all you have and give to the poor.’ He chose to live an ascetic life in the desert, devoting himself to solitude, prayer, and spiritual struggle. He is often considered the father of Christian monasticism.

Landscape with Saint Anthony the Hermit (c.1647 – 1650), David Teniers the Younger (Flemish, 1610 – 1690), 26x24cm, Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main.

Monasticism, in the Christian tradition, refers to a way of life in which individuals withdraw from worldly society to live in spiritual discipline, often in communities (monasteries) devoted to prayer, work, and contemplation. Saint Anthony is called the father of monasticism because he was among the first to retreat into the desert purely for religious reasons, inspiring many others to follow his example. Although he lived as a hermit himself, his life and teachings laid to the foundation of communal life in monastries as the Hospital Brothers of Saint Anthony, later known as the Antonines.

The Temptation of Saint Anthony

During his years of isolation, Anthony reportedly endured intense temptations, visions and torments involving lust, wealth, pride, and physical suffering, which he resisted through faith and prayer. These battles became central themes in later depictions of him in art, especially in the many dramatic scenes of ‘The Temptation of Saint Anthony.

Temptation of Saint Anthony (c.1548), Pieter Coecke van Aelst (Flemish, 1502 – 1550), 41x53cm, Prado Madrid.
Here we see Anthony with his hands clasped in prayer, fleeing from a dark, hellish vision. As the saint flees, his hands point to a monastery, a reminder that he was the founder of monasticism.
Temptation of Saint Anthony (c.1517), Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo (Italian, c.1483 – 1548), 70x119cm, Timken Museum of Art, San Diego, CA.
Anthony sits reading from a book; from the right approaches a woman with a goblet in her hand; the horns on her head indicate she is a demon. She tries to seduces Anthony with a goblet of abundance, which Anthony refuses of course.
Temptation of Saint Anthony (1509), Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Engraving, 18x16cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Search for Saint Anthony in this painting full with demons and temptation! He is sitting under the tree at the right side. A lady is trying to seduce him. And demons galore!
Temptation of Saint Anthony (1650), Joos van Craesbeeck (Flemish, c.1605 – 1660), 78×116, Staatliche Kunsthalle Karlsruhe, Germany.
The Temptation of Saint Antony (1556), Engraving by Pieter van der Heyden (Flemish, 1530 – 1572) after a design by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (Flemish, c.1525 – 1530), 24x33cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
I couldn’t resist the temptation to add this Brueghel print to the collection of Temptations. First, look for Saint Anthony, he is seated on the right side, beneath the tree trunk. On his cloak, he wears the Tau-cross, the symbol of the Antonine monks. Compare this print to the painting by Joos van Craesbeeck shown above. The painting (from 1650) could not have existed without inspiration from Brueghel’s print (from 1556).
The Temptation of Saint Antony (1556), Engraving by Pieter van der Heyden (Flemish, 1530 – 1572) after a design by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (Flemish, c.1525 – 1530), 24x33cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
The bearded saint is gazing toward a woman who symbolises Lust. The devil sent the demons to beat him and alluring women to distract him from his prayers. Saint Anthony evens sees the devils fly above his head, which is a typical form of hallucination caused by the poison in the Ergot fungus, as well as in LSD trips; LSD contains same chemical elements.
Temptation of Saint Anthony (1647), David Teniers the Younger (Flemish, 1610 – 1690), 51×71, Prado, Madrid.
Saint Anthony gazes serenely out at the viewer as frenzied demons grab at his limbs, clothes, and hair and pound him with sticks.
The Temptation of Saint Anthony (c.1472), Martin Schongauer (German, c.1445 – 1491), Engraving, 31x23cm, Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.

Saint Anthony’s Fire and Ergotism

Anthony’s legendary temptations bear a striking resemblance to the symptoms of Ergotism, a disease caused by eating rye bread contaminated with the ergot fungus. In the Middle Ages, rye was a staple food for the poor. When stored in damp conditions, especially during the wet autumn months, the grain could easily become infected. Bread made from this tainted rye caused severe outbreaks of illness across entire mostly-rural communities. This mysterious and terrifying illness, especially the burning pain of the skin (like a fire) is known as Saint Anthony’s Fire, or in Dutch as Kriebelziekte (“Itching Disease”). Common Ergotism symptoms included this burning skin pain, but also hallucinations, convulsions, mania, and gangrene, often mistaken for demonic possession or divine punishment. At the time, people had no idea that a fungus in their bread was the cause. Instead, they believed they were possessed or being punished by the devil. In their desperation, many turned to Saint Anthony, whose legendary temptations in the desert seemed to reflect their own torments. His name became associated with miraculous healing and spiritual endurance.

Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), detail with creature suffering from skin ulcers caused by Saint Anthony’s Fire, and detail with Christ suffering from all kind of skin wounds. The viewer, suffering himself, will feel connected with Christ and get hope for resurrection, relief and recovery from the terrible state of illness, like Christ’s resurrection after being crucified.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 – 1528), Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.

In response to widespread suffering, the Hospital Brothers of Saint Anthony, later known as the Antonines, were founded in France in the late 11th century by two French noblemen who credited Saint Anthony with healing them. The order established monasteries and hospitals across Europe, particularly along pilgrimage routes, where they cared for victims of Saint Anthony’s Fire. Though unaware of the disease’s true cause (infected bread), the Antonines provided nourishing food (proper bread and not infected rye bread), hygiene, skin treatment, and spiritual care. Their compassion and effectiveness further strengthened Saint Anthony’s reputation as a protector of the sick and suffering.

The Isenheimer Altarpiece, created by Matthias Grünewald in the early 16th century, was made for the Antonine monastery and hospital in Isenheim, near Colmar, France. The altarpiece held a central place in the hospital chapel. With its vivid, often harrowing imagery of suffering and healing, it was meant to offer spiritual comfort and a sense of connection between Christ’s pain and the patients’ own suffering from Saint Anthony’s Fire.

With its inner wings open, the Altarpiece allowed pilgrims and patients to venerate Saint Anthony, protector and healer of Saint Anthony’s fire. Saint Anthony occupies the place of honour at the centre of the altarpiece and at his side two pigs can be seen. The panel on the right depicts Saint Anthony being tormented by monstrous creatures.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), inner wings opened, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 – 1528), open 269x589cm, Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), detail with central sculpture of Saint Anthony, (c.1470), Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
Sanit Anthony with the Tau Cross and with two pigs at his feet.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), detail with central wooden sculpture of Saint Anthony, (c.1470), Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), detail with Temptation of Saint Anthony and a creature suffering from skin ulcers, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 - 1528), Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
Saint Anthony being tormented by monstrous creatures. Trampled to the ground, beaten with sticks, pulled by his hair, torn by claws and bitten, Saint Anthony appeals to God for help. In the lower left corner, the being with a distended belly seems to personify the disease caused by ergot poisoning, resulting in swelling and ulcerous growths.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), detail with Temptation of Saint Anthony of Saint Anthony. and a creature suffering from skin ulcers, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 – 1528), Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.
The wings of the altarpiece were mostly kept closed, displaying The Crucifixion framed on the left by the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian pierced by arrows, and on the right by Saint Anthony, remaining calm although he is being taunted by a frightening monster. The two saints protect and heal the sick, Saint Anthony as the patron saint of the victims of Saint Anthony’s fire and Saint Sebastian, whose aid was invoked to ward off the plague, a disease also leading to terrible skin lesions.
Isenheim Altarpiece (c.1514), closed, Matthias Grünewald (German, c.1470 – 1528), open 269x589cm, Musée Unterlinden, Colmar, France.

The symptoms of ergotism can lead to a range of psychiatric and neurological disturbances, including mania and psychosis. The symptoms are akin to bad LSD trips, as LSD contains chemical elements related to the ergot fungus. Sufferers may see all kinds of monsters flying or even believe they can fly themselves. Very much alike the temptations of Saint Anthony.

By the end of the 15th century, the monks had built roughly 370 hospitals across Europe to treat outbreaks of Saint Anthony’s Fire. The brothers were also instrumental in caring for those infected with the plague or Black Death. The success of these hospitals may be attributed to feeding their patients bread made from uninfected grains, such as wheat or other cereals, and providing compassionate care as a form of treatment. The Antonine Order as a monastic institution no longer exists. It began to decline in the 17th century, and by the late 18th century, it was absorbed into other religious orders or dissolved, especially during the wave of secularization and monastic reform that swept Europe.

However, their legacy of care lived on and we still see traces of it today, particularly in the naming of hospitals, clinics, and charitable institutions. Names like Antonius Gasthuis (Hospital) in the Netherlands preserve this heritage, reminding us that long before modern medicine, healing was closely tied to religious devotion, charity, and the care of the sick.

How to recognize Saint Anthony in art

The Antonines were allowed to let their pigs roam freely through towns and villages. These pigs often wore little bells to signal that they belonged to the order and should not be harmed. The fat from these pigs was used by the monks to make the medicinal Saint Anthony’s balm, a healing ointment for treating the skin lesions and intense burning sensations caused by ergotism (by Saint Anthony’s Fire). When going around for alms, the monks were also carrying and ringing bells.

Over time, the pig and the bell became symbols of Saint Anthony’s role as a protector of the sick. In art, the pig is a subtle allusion to both his healing work and the monastic order’s care practices. Another symbol is the fire, which represents the fire-like burning pain of the skin disease, the Saint Anthony’s Fire.

Another symbol closely associated with Saint Anthony is the Greek letter Tau (Τ). This simplest form of the cross was a decorative emblem with a spiritual meaning. Saint Anthony is said to have used the Tau as a sign of protection against evil, and it became the emblem of the Antonine order and the monks wore it on their habits.

Saint Anthony with his various symbols: the Tau Cross on his cloak, a pig, a bell, and the fire, representing Saint Anthony’s Fire, the burning skin diseases.
Saint Anthony the Great (c.1455), Joan Reixach (Spanish, 1431 – 1486), Tempera on Panel, 91x64cm, Prado, Madrid.
Saint Anthony the Great (c.1520), Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, 1498 – 1533), Engraving, 11x7cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington.
Also a symbol of Saint Anthony is the bell, so that everyone could hear the monks going around for alms; a bell is hanging on the pig and in the top left corner.
Saint Anthony the Great (c.1520), Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, 1498 – 1533), Engraving, 11x7cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington.
An engraving of St Anthony, seated and reading a book. Anthony’s symbols, a bell is hanging on the cross next to him.
Saint Anthony (1519), Albrecht Dürer (German, 1471 – 1528), Engraving, 10x15cm, Royal Collection Trust, London.

Travel destinations

Two important sites are closely connected to the legacy of Saint Anthony and are now high on my visit-wish-list: Saint-Antoine-l’Abbaye in France and the Monastery of Saint Anthony in Egypt.

Saint-Antoine-l’Abbaye, France.

Saint-Antoine-l’Abbaye, in southeastern France, is a medieval village that developed around an abbey housing relics of Saint Anthony, brought there in the 11th century. In the Middle Ages, it became a major pilgrimage destination, especially for those seeking healing from Saint Anthony’s Fire. It was also the motherhouse of the Antonines, or the Hospital Brothers of Saint Anthony, the religious order devoted to care and healing.

Monastery of Saint Anthony, Egypt

The Monastery of Saint Anthony in Egypt, located in the Eastern Desert near the Red Sea, is one of the oldest Christian monasteries in the world. Founded in the 4th century near the cave where Saint Anthony lived in seclusion, it has remained a center of pilgrimage and monastic life ever since, preserving the spiritual heritage of early Christian monasticism within the Coptic Orthodox tradition.

Medical literature

And here are two great articles from the medical literature.

An article (in Dutch) about healthcare in relation to the Isenheim Altarpiece, published in 1995 in the Dutch Magazine for Healthcare, J.P. Mackenbach, ‘De kriebelziekte en het Isenheimer altaar’, Nederlands Tijdschrift voor Geneeskunde, 1995.

In another beautiful article (in English) the writers underscore that at least three distinct diseases, one toxic (i.e., ergotism) and two infectious (i.e., erysipelas and herpes zoster) have been called Saint Anthony’s Fire, and that even some cases of plague may have been included. The article is from 2021, “One holy man, one eponym, three distinct diseases. St. Anthony’s fire revisited”, by G. Cervellin, U. Longobardi an G. Lippi, in Acata Biomedica, 2021.

Closing Notes

Although the Antonine monasteries no longer exist, their legacy is still with us. Hospitals and care institutions across Europe still bear the name of Saint Anthony, such as the ‘St. Antonius Gasthuis’ in Zeeland, The Netherlands. These names are not coincidental. They are echoes of a time when healing the sick was considered a sacred duty, and when monks provided care long before the advent of modern medicine. The spirit of Saint Anthony’s compassion, and the idea that care itself can be a form of healing, continues to influence how we think about health and humanity today.

In our modern world, medicine often revolves around the idea of cure: fixing what is broken, extending life, eliminating disease. While this is a noble and essential goal, we sometimes risk forgetting the quieter, older value of care. Saint Anthony and the Antonine monks remind us that healing is not always about eradicating illness. Their gentle presence, their comfort, their tending to the pain of others – these were acts of care that, in their time, were experienced as cures.

For the old, the frail, and those nearing the end of life, a cure may no longer be possible. But care, simple and devoted and human, can still be given. And in many cases, it may be the greater blessing.

Bonus

The Temptation of Saint Antony (1946), Salvador Dalí (Spanish, 1904 – 1989), 90x120cm, Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels.

This 1946 painting by Salvador Dalí was created for an invitational competition on the theme of The Temptation of Saint Anthony, organized by the Loew-Lewin Company, a film production firm. The winning entry would appear in the movie The Private Affairs of Bel Ami, based on a story by Guy de Maupassant. Eleven artists participated, including Dalí, Paul Delvaux, and Max Ernst. Although Dalí’s painting did not win the contest, it later became the most well-known of all the submissions. The prize ultimately went to Ernst.

Temptation of Saint Anthony (1945), Max Ernst (1891 – 1976), Oil on canvas, 108x128cm, Lehmbruck Museum, Duisburg, Germany.
Temptation of Saint Anthony (1945), Max Ernst (1891 – 1976), Oil on canvas, 108x128cm, Lehmbruck Museum, Duisburg, Germany.
Daniel

Daniel

“Prophet or not, visionary for sure!”

Now that I’ve written about Jeremiah and Isaiah, it’s time to turn to Daniel and Ezekiel. These four are known as the Major Prophets, meaning they each have a full “major” book named after them in both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles. Ezekiel is a challenge, though. His visions are so abstract that they’re hard to picture, which makes him a tricky subject for visual storytelling.

Daniel, on the other hand, had plenty of adventures, and artists have loved depicting them in paintings and prints. Drama galore! He’s not always seen as a traditional “prophet” in the sense of an old wise man foretelling the future, but Daniel was definitely a visionary, and young and beautiful, and a smart cookie too! Here are some of the stories around Daniel, brought to life through art. Enjoy!

The Prophet Daniel, from the series Icones Prophetarurm Veteris Testamenti or Portraits of Old Testament Prophets (c.1620), Engraving by Cornelis Galle (1576 - 1650), after design by Jan van der Straat (1523 - 1605), 17x13cm, British Museum, London.
Daniel looks like a pretty young guy compared to the other prophets; see Jeremiah or Isaiah for the contrast. This is an engraving from a series of Prophets. Daniel for sure the youngest (and prettiest).
The Prophet Daniel, from the series Icones Prophetarurm Veteris Testamenti or Portraits of Old Testament Prophets (c.1620), Engraving by Cornelis Galle (1576 – 1650), after design by Jan van der Straat (1523 – 1605), 17x13cm, British Museum, London.

First some background on Daniel: He was part of the Jewish nobility in Jerusalem, but taken into exile when the Babylonians, under King Nebuchadnezzar, attacked and destroyed the city in 586 BC and looted its grand temple. Daniel and many others were deported to Babylon. Despite being a foreigner in exile, Daniel rose to a respected position at the royal Babylonian court, thanks to his intelligence and striking beauty.

The illustrated stories I’ll be exploring are:

A recurring theme in these stories is the downfall of rulers who abuse their power, and the triumph of justice. Daniel is on our side with his patience, wisdom and moral courage.

Daniel explains the dream of Nebuchadnezzar

Daniel before Nebuchadnezzar (c.1630), Salomon Koninck (1609 - 1656), Oil on canvas, 165x165cm, National Trust, Kedleston Hall, Derbyshire, United Kingdom.
Daniel before Nebuchadnezzar, explaining the king’s dream (c.1630), Salomon Koninck (1609 – 1656), Oil on canvas, 165x165cm, National Trust, Kedleston Hall, Derbyshire, United Kingdom.

In Salomon Koninck’s Daniel before Nebuchadnezzar (c.1630), we see the young exile Daniel standing calmly before the powerful Babylonian king, counting to four on his fingers as he explains the king’s troubling dream that none of the royal wise men, seen on the left searching in books, could decipher. The king had dreamt of a giant statue made of four materials: a golden head, silver chest, bronze torso, and legs of iron mixed with clay. The statue was terrifying in appearance, until a mysterious stone struck it and shattered it to dust. Daniel reveals that the statue represents a succession of kingdoms, with Nebuchadnezzar’s own Babylonian empire as the golden head, and each one destined to fall.

The dream’s deeper meaning would unfold over generations. Babylon eventually fell to the Medes and Persians, just as Daniel had foretold. Koninck’s painting captures the quiet authority of Daniel among the king’s scribes, as the young visionary reveals that even the most powerful rulers are subject to the judgment of time and of something greater than themselves.

This story remains a warning to rulers of all eras not to overreach in their power, because pride and arrogance are always destined to fall, even for the mightiest people on earth.

The Writing on the Wall

Now to the next story, about King Belshazzar, a successor of Nebuchadnezzar. Belshazzar once held a lavish feast, using the sacred gold and silver vessels that had been looted from the temple in Jerusalem, Daniel’s homeland. At the height of the party, a mysterious hand appeared and began writing glowing words on the wall. No one could interpret them, so Daniel was summoned. He was the only one who understood the message: “mene, mene, tekel, upharsin”.

Belshazzar's Feast (c.1636), Rembrandt van Rijn (1606 - 1669), Oil on canvas, 168x209cm, National Gallery London.
During a lavish party at King Belshazzar’s court, a mysterious hand writes a message on the wall. And look at the precious gold and silverware, all stolen from the temple in Jerusalem; that was not respectful to use those. That night the kingdom of Babylon fell, as predicted in the writing on the wall.
Belshazzar’s Feast, and the writing on the wall (c.1636), Rembrandt van Rijn (1606 – 1669), Oil on canvas, 168x209cm, National Gallery London.

Daniel explained it as a divine judgment, and told King Belshazzar that this is what it means:

Mene means numbered, the days of your reign are numbered, and they are ended.

Tekel means weighed, you have been weighed and found wanting, you have failed the test.

Upharsin means divided, your kingdom will be divided and given to the Medes and Persians.

The message foretold the fall of Belshazzar and the end of the Babylonian kingdom. Daniel warned the king that by arrogantly flaunting the temple treasures and ruling with excess and pride, he had sealed his own fate. That very night, Belshazzar was killed, and the Persians took control of Babylon.

Rembrandt’s Belshazzar’s Feast captures this moment of divine intervention with dramatic intensity. The story remains a warning to rulers who govern with arrogance and disregard for justice. It also offers a quiet message of hope to the oppressed: power built on pride will not last, and justice will come in time.

The Writing on the Wall at Belshazzar's Feast (c.1400), from Weltchronik by Rudolf von Ems (Austrian, c1200 - 1254), unknown makers, Tempera colors, gold, silver paint, and ink, Illuminated Manuscript Ms. 33 (88.MP.70), fol. 214v, Getty Center, Los Angeles. (the illustration)
Same story from an illustrated manuscript. A mysterious hand is writing a message on the wall. The old wise men at the left have nu clue, but the little Daniel, in blue in the front, explains to king Belshazzar what it means: “your time has come, your kingdom will fall”!
The Writing on the Wall at Belshazzar’s Feast (c.1400), from Weltchronik by Rudolf von Ems (Austrian, c1200 – 1254), unknown makers, Tempera colors, gold, silver paint, and ink, Illuminated Manuscript Ms. 33 (88.MP.70), fol. 214v, Getty Center, Los Angeles.

The saying “the writing on the wall” comes directly from this dramatic moment in the Book of Daniel. In Dutch: een teken aan de wand.

The phrase “weighed and found wanting,” meaning “evaluated (weighed) and found to be lacking,” also comes from this same passage — the mysterious words Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin. In Dutch: gewogen en te licht bevonden.

Daniel and the Four Beasts

Daniel’s vision of the Four Beasts, with the Archangel Gabriel explaining (1599), Hieronymus Wierix (1553 - 1619), Engraving, 19x26cm, British Museum, London.
Daniel’s vision of the Four Beasts, with the Archangel Gabriel explaining (1599), Hieronymus Wierix (1553 – 1619), Engraving, 19x26cm, British Museum, London.

Now to one of Daniel’s own dreams, in which he sees four strange beasts rising from a stormy sea. Disturbed by the vision, Daniel asks an angel to help him understand what it means. The angel explains that the four beasts represent four successive empires: the lion with eagle’s wings is often interpreted as Babylon, the bear as the Medo-Persian Empire, the leopard with four wings as Greece under Alexander the Great, and the final terrifying beast with iron teeth and ten horns as the Roman Empire.

Even the most fearsome of these, the monstrous last beast representing the Roman Empire, is destined to fall. Once again, the message is clear: no kingdom lasts forever.

This is a warning to rulers to govern with humility, not through violence or intimidation like the beasts of the vision, which rule with claws and teeth.

Daniel’s vision of the The Four Beasts (c.1050), detail, ilustration from the manuscript Beatus a Liebana, Commentarius in Apocalypsin (The Saint-Sever Beatus, also known as the Apocalypse of Saint-Sever), MS lat. 8878 folio 51r, Parchement, 37x29cm, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.
Daniel’s vision of the The Four Beasts (c.1050), detail, ilustration from the manuscript Beatus a Liebana, Commentarius in Apocalypsin (The Saint-Sever Beatus, also known as the Apocalypse of Saint-Sever), MS lat. 8878 folio 51r, Parchement, 37x29cm, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.

Daniel in the Lions’ Den

Daniel’s next adventure, and perhaps the most well-known, is his stay in the lions’ den. Rubens’s powerful painting in the National Gallery in Washington brings this dramatic moment to life with vivid realism.

Daniel in the Lions' Den (c.1614), Peter Paul Rubens (1577 – 1640), Oil on canvas, 224x331cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington.
Daniel in the Lions’ Den (c.1614), Peter Paul Rubens (1577 – 1640), Oil on canvas, 224x331cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington.

So what happened? Daniel had become a favored advisor at the court of King Darius (or Cyrus, depending on the source), the Persian ruler who succeeded the Babylonians. But jealous rivals plotted against him. They tricked the king into issuing a decree that, for thirty days, no one could pray to any god or person except to King Darius himself. Anyone who disobeyed would be thrown to the lions. Devout as ever, Daniel continued to pray to his own God, the God of Israel. Though Darius admired Daniel and regretted the trap he had fallen into, he was bound by the law of the Medes and Persians, which could not be changed.

Daniel getting food from Habakkuk, who is held by an angel by his hair (c.1470), illustratiuon from Speculum humanae salvationis, MS 89, f. 029 - vue 1, Parchement, Bibliothèque l'Alcazar de Marseille, France.
Daniel getting food from Habakkuk, who is held by an angel by his hair (c.1470), illustratiuon from Speculum humanae salvationis, MS 89, f. 029 – vue 1, Parchement, Bibliothèque l’Alcazar de Marseille, France.

Daniel was thrown into the lions’ den. He kept praying, and help came in the form of the prophet Habakkuk, who was miraculously transported to Daniel with food – carried by an angel who lifted him by his hair (see the manuscript illustrations, and the engraving hereunder).

Daniel in the Lions’ Den and Habakkuk bringing food, nr 8-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Daniel sits amongst the lions in a cave and looks up at an angel swooping in and carrying Habakuk by the hair; food delivery!
Daniel in the Lions’ Den and Habakkuk bringing food, nr 8-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Daniel getting food from Habakkuk, who is held by an angel by his hair (c.1109), illustration from the Silos Apocalypse, Add. 11695, ff.238v-239, Parchement, British Library, London.
I think this is a great illustration of the story: Daniel between two lions who are licking his feet, like dogs would do, they are harmless towards Daniel. And the angel transports Habakkuk through the air to get Daniel some food.
Daniel getting food from Habakkuk, who is held by an angel by his hair (c.1109), illustration from the Silos Apocalypse, Add. 11695, ff.238v-239, Parchement, British Library, London.

After a week, Darius had the den opened, and to everyone’s astonishment, Daniel was still alive and unharmed. The king rejoiced, and justice was swiftly served: Daniel’s accusers were thrown into the lions’ den in his place.

Daniel is pulled out of the Lions' Den, nr 9-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Daniel is pulled out of the Lions’ Den, nr 9-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

The moral? However hard the trial, and however hopeless the outcome may seem, faith and perseverance can lead to a just resolution. For Daniel, this meant both survival and vindication. The story remains a symbol of hope and courage. In modern terms: even when those in power make life miserable, keep your faith and hold your head high. A day of justice will come.

Cyrus has Daniel's accusers thrown into the Lions' Den, nr 10-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Darius has Daniel’s accusers thrown into the Lions’ Den, nr 10-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

The phrase “a law of the Medes and Persians” survives to this day, describing a rule that cannot be changed, no matter how inconvenient or unjust.

Susanna and the Elders, and Daniel’s judgment

The elders spying upon Susanna (c.1506), Lucas van Leyden (1494 - 1533), Engraving, 20x15cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
The elders spying upon Susanna (c.1506), Lucas van Leyden (1494 – 1533), Engraving, 20x15cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Now we turn to Susan and the Elders, which story remains startlingly relevant today. At its heart is a woman wrongly accused by two powerful men after she refuses their sexual advances. Her integrity is put on trial, her word weighed against that of respected elders. Yet she does not give in. Susanna chooses to speak, knowing the cost. It is a story of courage, the abuse of power, and ultimately, of justice, thanks to the young Daniel, who intervenes with clarity and moral insight. By cross-examining the two elders separately, Daniel uncovers their lies: each gives a contradictory account of the scene, revealing their falsehood and exposing their guilt. The story concludes with Susanna’s vindication and the elders’ downfall.

Susanna and the Elders (1647), Rembrandt van Rijn (1606 - 1669), Oil on panel, 77x93cm, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin.
Susanna and the Elders (1647), Rembrandt van Rijn (1606 – 1669), Oil on panel, 77x93cm, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin.

In the story, after Susanna refused their sexual advances, the elders sought revenge by claiming they had caught her committing adultery with a young man in her garden. According to the law at the time, adultery was punishable by death, and the testimony of two respected elders carried great weight. Their accusation was intended to destroy her reputation and life, but Daniel’s intervention ultimately revealed the truth and saved her.

Centuries later, this story continued to inspire artists, particularly in the Baroque period. Rembrandt’s Susanna and the Elders (1647), housed in the Gemäldegalerie in Berlin, captures a moment of vulnerability and fear. In contrast, Artemisia Gentileschi’s Susanna and the Elders (c.1610) is strikingly defiant. Painted when she was only seventeen, Artemisia – herself a survivor of sexual violence – transforms Susanna into a figure of resistance. Today, her version speaks with particular force, not only because of its raw visual intensity, but because the artist’s own trauma echoes through her entire oeuvre.

Susanna and the Elders (c.1610), Artemisia Gentileschi (1593 - 1653), Oil on canvas, 170x119cm, Collection Schloss Weissenstein, Pommersfelden Germany, currently on view in Musée Jacquemart-André (untill 3 August 2025), Paris.
Susanna and the Elders (c.1610), Artemisia Gentileschi (1593 – 1653), Oil on canvas, 170x119cm, Collection Schloss Weissenstein, Pommersfelden Germany, currently on view in Musée Jacquemart-André (untill 3 August 2025), Paris.

In the context of the MeToo movement, the story of Susanna feels painfully modern. A woman is cornered, threatened, and disbelieved by those in power. Yet she refuses to yield. With Daniel’s intervention, truth is reclaimed and the false accusers are unmasked. This ancient tale becomes, in today’s terms, a parable of resistance and the enduring hope for justice, even against overwhelming odds.

Yet we must also look critically at how this story has been visualized, especially in the Baroque era. For many male artists, including Rubens and Rembrandt, Susanna and the Elders became a pretext for painting the nude female body under the guise of a biblical subject. Susanna is often shown at her most vulnerable, surprised in the bath, exposed not only to the leering elders but also to us, the viewers. This dynamic implicates the audience, making us – consciously or not – silent participants. From a contemporary perspective, especially in light of #MeToo, we must ask: are we seeing Susanna through the eyes of Daniel, or through the eyes of the elders?

Susanna and the Elders (c.1610), Peter Paul Rubens (1577 - 1640), Oil on panel, 190x223cm, Royal Academy of Fine Arts of San Fernando, Madrid.
Susanna and the Elders (c.1610), Peter Paul Rubens (1577 – 1640), Oil on panel, 190x223cm, Royal Academy of Fine Arts of San Fernando, Madrid.

Daniel urges us to shift our perspective, from complicity to conscience. When we look at these artworks, we are invited not just to witness injustice, but to side with justice. Daniel’s judgment is not merely a narrative turning point, it is a call to the viewer: to recognize the abuse of power, to listen to the vulnerable, and to believe that justice, though often delayed, will prevail.

Daniel’s jugement (c.1621), Valentin de Boulogne (1591 - 1632), Oil on canvas, 175x211cm, Louvre, Paris.
Daniel’s jugement (c.1621), Valentin de Boulogne (1591 – 1632), Oil on canvas, 175x211cm, Louvre, Paris.
Susanna accused of adultery, from The Story of Susanna (1555), Heinrich Aldegrever (c.1502 - 1561), Engraving, 12x8cm), Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Susanna accused of adultery, from The Story of Susanna (1555), Heinrich Aldegrever (c.1502 – 1561), Engraving, 12x8cm), Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Daniel exposed the elders by separating them and asking each under which tree they had seen Susanna commit the alleged act. One claimed it was under a small mastic tree, the other said it was a big oak. Their conflicting answers revealed their lie, proving that their accusations were false and leading to Susanna’s vindication and the elders’ punishment, which was quite harsh in the days of Daniel, but also in the days when these engravings were made.

Daniel cross-examining the Elders, from The Story of Susanna (1555), Heinrich Aldegrever (c.1502 - 1561), Engraving, 12x8cm), Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
The stoning of the Elders, from The Story of Susanna (1555), Heinrich Aldegrever (c.1502 - 1561), Engraving, 12x8cm), Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
Daniel cross-examining the Elders (left) and The stoning of the Elders (right), from The Story of Susanna (1555), Heinrich Aldegrever (c.1502 – 1561), Engraving, each 12x8cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Daniel exposes the corruption of the priests of Bel

The next one is  how Daniel exposes the corruption of the priests of Bel, one of the gods (or idols) in the land of king Darius (or Cyrus, depending on the source of the story). It’s a lesser-known but sharp story about uncovering corruption.

Daniel and Cyrus before the idol Bel (1633), Rembrandt van Rijn (1606 - 1669), Oil on panel, 24x30cm, Getty Center, Los Angeles.
In this scene, King Cyrus of Persia, at the center, questions Daniel about his refusal to worship the god Bel, whose statue looms in shadow on the right, you can see the legs of the big statue. Cyrus insists Bel is a living deity, pointing to the daily offerings of food and wine that mysteriously vanish each night. Daniel calmly replies that bronze statues do not eat. The story takes a playful turn, this powerful king believes the idol consumes the offerings! But Daniel is about to expose the truth. What really happens to the food and wine? The answer reveals not just a trick, but a deeper tale of fraud, corruption, and the courage to speak truth to power.
Daniel and Cyrus before the idol Bel (1633), Rembrandt van Rijn (1606 – 1669), Oil on panel, 24x30cm, Getty Center, Los Angeles.

In Babylon, there was a magnificent temple dedicated to the god Bel (or Baal), where the people believed the statue of the god consumed great daily offerings of food and wine. Every day the people offered the most tasteful dishes and the most wonderful wines. And next day the food and wine was always gone. King Cyrus was a devout believer and asked Daniel why he did not worship Bel like everyone else. Daniel replied that Bel was only a statue made by human hands and that it could not eat or drink. To prove otherwise, the king challenged Daniel: if the food was indeed not eaten by Bel, the priests would be executed. But if Bel had eaten it, Daniel would be punished.

King Cyrus shows Daniel the statue of the god Bel, nr 2-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
The king shows Daniel the temple of the god Bel. In the middle of the temple is a large statue of the seated god. Servants are busy displaying food and drink on a table in front of the statue.
King Cyrus shows Daniel the statue of the god Bel, nr 2-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

That night, the king sealed the temple doors after the offerings were placed inside. But Daniel had secretly scattered ashes on the temple floor. Next morning, the food was gone, yet the floor revealed footprints leading to a hidden door under the altar tabel and a secret entrance in the corner of the temple. It turned out the priests and their families had been sneaking in at night to eat the offerings themselves. The king, shocked at the deception, had the false priests removed, and the temple of Bel was destroyed.

Hereunder four engravings that tell the story in a comic-book style.

Daniel strewing ashes in the temple and Cyrus sealing the door, nr 3-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
To prove that it is not the statue of the god Bel who eats the food, but the priests, Daniel scatters ashes on the floor of the temple. King Cyrus has the door of the temple sealed so that no one can enter unnoticed.
Daniel strewing ashes in the temple and Cyrus sealing the door, nr 3-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
The priests and their families eat the food for Bel at night, nr 4-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
The priests and their wives and children enter the temple at night through secret doors and eat the food that is on the table for the god Bel. As they secretly take the food, their footprints are left in the ashes scattered on the ground by Daniel.
The priests and their families eat the food for Bel at night, nr 4-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Daniel revealing the fraud of Bel's priests, nr 5-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
King Cyrus and Daniel come to the temple in the morning and see footprints in the ashes that Daniel has scattered on the floor. They discover the secret entrance to the temple, through which the priests and their families have entered to eat Bel’s food.
Daniel revealing the fraud of Bel’s priests, nr 5-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
King Cyrus smashes the statue of Bel to pieces, nr 6-10 from the series: The story of Daniel, Bel and the Dragon (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 - 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 - 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
King Cyrus watches men smash the statue of the god Bel to pieces. On the spot where the table with food used to be, the entrance to the secret entrance to the temple can now be seen. In the front right, a boy pees in Bel’s mouth.
King Cyrus smashes the statue of Bel to pieces, nr 6-10 from the series: The story of Daniel and Bel (1565), Engraving by Print Philips Galle (1537 – 1612) after design by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498 – 1574), 20x24cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

The lesson, also for today in our own time and place! Even the most sacred institutions can be corrupted from within. Daniel’s calm wisdom once again uncovers the truth. Faith and trust, combined with reason, has the power to expose lies and uphold justice.

Closing remarks

A note on the Book of Daniel and the Bible in general. Many people do not realize that the Catholic and Protestant Bibles are not exactly the same. The stories of Daniel exposing the corruption of the priests of Bel, his intervention in the case of Susanna and the Elders, and Habbakuk delivering food when Daniel is in the lions’ den, are perfect examples of this difference. These stories are part of the so-called “Additions to Daniel,” which are included in the Catholic Bible but not in the Hebrew Bible and not in the Protestant Old Testament. In most Protestant traditions, they are considered apocryphal, meaning additional or non-canonical. So depending on which Bible you are reading, you might or might not find these stories at all.

A moral remark as final closing: What can we take from Daniel’s stories today? Perhaps this: all empires, whether Babylonian, Persian, Greek, Roman, or others from Daniel’s time to our own, no matter how powerful, eventually collapse under the weight of their own excess. Any leader who overreaches, who rules with arrogance or deception, is destined to share in that downfall. The stories in Daniel’s book reveal a pattern. When power is worshipped for its own sake, it corrupts systems, turning them into something beastly, inhumane, and blind to truth. Daniel also teaches patience. Injustice and oppression do not end quickly, but they do end. In time, those who do harm, whether by abusing power or silencing the innocent, will face their reckoning. And on a more personal level, Daniel shows us what it means to live with integrity in unfamiliar circumstances, to hold your head high and trust in justice, even when you are in exile or a stranger in a strange land.

Bonus

I can’t resist adding a little bonus here, partly because this scene is so full of drama, and partly because it features two remarkable statues by my favourite sculptor Bernini, in the Chigi Chapel in Rome.

Daniel and the Lion (c.1655), Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598 – 1680), Marble, 170cm, Chigi Chapel, Basilica of Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome.
Habakkuk and the Angel (c.1655), Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598 – 1680), Marble, 170cm, Chigi Chapel, Basilica of Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome.
Daniel in the lions’ den (left) and Habakkuk and the angle (right), both c.1655, Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598 – 1680), Marble, 170cm, Chigi Chapel, Basilica of Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome.

One statue shows Daniel in the lions’ den, praying to God. A lion is at his feet, even licking one of them, emphasizing Daniel’s divine protection. Across from him, in a niche on the opposite side of the chapel, we see the prophet Habakkuk. He’s seated on a rock, his lunch basket beside him, pointing in the direction he wants to go. But the angel has other plans! Leaning out of the niche, the angel lifts Habakkuk by the hair and points decisively toward Daniel, guiding him to bring food to the imprisoned prophet. Bernini composed these two figures as part of a larger program within the Chigi Chapel, connecting them visually and theologically. It’s a sculptural narrative drawn from from the apocryphal additions to the Book of Daniel.

Here’s the full passage featuring Habakkuk and the miraculous food delivery. Read and enjoy!

Daniel 14:33-39

Now the prophet Habakkuk was in Judea; he had made a stew and had broken bread into a bowl, and was going into the field to take it to the reapers. But the angel of the Lord said to Habakkuk, “Take the food that you have to Babylon, to Daniel, in the lions’ den.” Habakkuk said, “Sir, I have never seen Babylon, and I know nothing about the den.” Then the angel of the Lord took him by the crown of his head and carried him by his hair; with the speed of the wind he set him down in Babylon, right over the den.

Then Habakkuk shouted, “Daniel, Daniel! Take the food that God has sent you.” Daniel said, “You have remembered me, O God, and have not forsaken those who love you.” So Daniel got up and ate. And the angel of God immediately returned Habakkuk to his own place.
Storytelling. The narrative power of printmaking

Storytelling. The narrative power of printmaking

Draiflessen Collection, Mettingen

15 October, 2023 – 28 April, 2024

This showcase exhibition “Storytelling. The Narrative Power of Printmaking” delves into the fascinating world of printmaking, which kicked off a groundbreaking transformation in the fifteenth century with its novel way of disseminating images. Before this time, works of art such as altarpieces and paintings were usually only accessible to a privileged audience. With the advent of the new media of woodcut and copperplate engraving, images could suddenly be produced and distributed quickly, cheaply, and in large editions. The exhibition impressively shows how printmaking, with its unique narrative form, helped to make images and the stories they contain accessible to a broad public for the first time. It also shows that, with the new medium, what was depicted also changed.

The Milkmaid (1510), Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Engraving, 11x16cm), Draiflessen Collection, Mettingen.
In a print that has been described as the earliest Dutch image of a milkmaid, a buxom lass and a strapping lad seem keenly aware of each other. The cowherd’s (and the viewer’s) focus on the farmgirl would have brought to mind the slang word melken (to milk), meaning to attract or lure. The term’s origin is more or less explained in an anonymous Dutch book of 1624, Nova poemata (subtitled “New Low German poems and riddles”), in which a woman in the act of milking a cow (“A sinewy thing she has seized with joy,” and so on) is compared with grabbing a man’s . . . attention. (Thanks to metropolitan Museum of Art, new York)

While the artists were initially still strongly influenced by religion and therefore also rendered mainly religious motifs, profane everyday scenes were now increasingly pushing their way into the center of the picture. But what purpose did these secular pictures serve? Which zeitgeist is reflected in them? And how did the artists manage to convey to the contemporary viewer not only an image, but at the same time an entire story or message on just a few square centimeters of paper? In contrast to the viewers of that time, who naturally understood the multilayered allusions conveyed through pictorial language, today we often lack this knowing gaze. “Storytelling” therefore invites us to decipher the hidden stories in the depictions and thus to (re)discover answers to the above-mentioned questions. 

The Offer Of Love or The Ill-Assorted Couple (c.1495), Albrecht Dürer (German, 1471 – 1528), Engraving, 15x14cm, Draiflessen Collection, Mettingen.
The theme of the unequal couple has been taken up as a moral satire from ancient times up to today. Due to the spread of prints, the motif gained great popularity north of the Alps in the last quarter of the 15th century. The depictions reflected the way of life of the class society and its order as well as the prevailing moral concepts. One of Albrecht Dürer’s first engravings shows the meeting of a young, well-off lady and an older gentleman at the edge of the forest outside the city. It quickly becomes clear that Dürer is not depicting a couple in love in his depiction: the gestures of the protagonists indicate that this is not true love, but rather a relationship for sale. The old man takes money out of his bag with his wrinkled hand and gives it to the young woman, who willingly accepts it. While the woman’s clothing, with a lavish bonnet and tight-fitting bodice, corresponds to the latest fashion, the depiction of the gentleman is ridiculed by the old-fashioned Tappert, his fur hat on the floor and his pointed shoes – and thus the old man’s madness in love. Dürer shows his iconographic ingenuity through further elements: the man’s bag with two small bags hangs directly in front of his lap, while the horse rubs itself sensually against a tree. The steeply upward broken branch to which the animal is tied is reminiscent of a phallic symbol. (Thanks to Staatsgalerie Stuttgart)

The exhibition presents a variety of artistically impressive and inventive prints, which to this day remain both aesthetically pleasing and, in terms of narrative, highly captivating. “Storytelling” provides a glimpse into late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century printmaking, while purposefully directing the eye to experience contemporary messages and artistic expression in a new way.

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.

Lucas van Leyden, The Twelve Apostles

Lucas van Leyden, The Twelve Apostles

Lucas van Leyden was a Dutch Renaissance painter and printmaker. He was born in Leiden, The Netherlands, in 1494, and died there in 1533 at the age of 39. Lucas van Leyden was one of the most important artists of the Northern Renaissance. He was known for his intricate and detailed engravings in various genres, including religious subjects, portraits, and landscapes; with a particular interest in capturing the expressions and emotions of his subjects. Lucas van Leyden’s style combined the influences of the Italian Renaissance with the local traditions of the Netherlands. His religious works originate from the traditional Catholic background, as that was the widely accepted and almost exclusive religion during Lucas van Leyden’s life and that of his contemporaries. The Reformation started only during his lifetime.

In 1510 Lucas van Leyden produced a series of fourteen engravings with Christ as Salvator Mundi, Paul and the Twelve Apostles. Let’s have a look.

Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Jesus Christ as Salvator Mundi, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.

“Salvator Mundi” is a Latin term that translates to “Savior of the World”. In the context of art, “Salvator Mundi” refers to a specific subject matter that has been depicted in Christian religious art. “Salvator Mundi” typically portrays Jesus Christ as the savior of humanity. The subject is often depicted with Jesus blessing the viewer with his right hand and holding a globe or crystal orb symbolizing his role as the ruler of the world.

Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Peter, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.

The Apostles are the twelve disciples who were chosen by Jesus Christ to be his closest followers and to spread his teachings. They played a central role in the formation and early development of Christianity. Paul, not part of the original group of twelve, is considered so important in spreading the word of God, that he often is included in the group of apostles. Together with Jesus Christ himself, the group as depicted by Lucas van Leyden in 1510 consists of 14: Jesus Christ as Salvator Mundi, Paul and the Twelve Apostles.

Their names and symbols, in sequence of the series by Lucas van Leyden, are as follows:

  1. Jesus Christ as Salvator Mundi
  2. Peter, with the Keys, representing his role as the “keeper of the keys” to the Kingdom of Heaven
  3. Paulus with a sword as a reminder of the means of his martyrdom.
  4. Andrew, with an X-shaped cross known as the saltire or St. Andrew’s Cross, as he was crucified on such a cross.
  5. John, holding a chalice or cup with a serpent in it, representing the cup of poisoned wine that he drank without harm, symbolising Christian faith prevailing over death, signified by the serpent.
  6. James the Greater, with a pilgrim staff and bag, and a hat with scallop shells, symbol of pilgrimage.
  7. Thomas, with a spear, referring to his martyrdom.
  8. James the Less, with a club, as he was beaten to death.
  9. Bartholomew, with a knife, alluding to the tradition that he was martyred by being skinned alive.
  10. Philip with a cross, referring to his crucifixion.
  11. Judas Thaddeus with a builder’s square, as he was an architect of the Christian church.
  12. Simon, with a saw, as he was reportedly martyred by being sawn in two.
  13. Matthew, A halberd, symbol of his martyrdom.
  14. Matthias, with an axe, or cleaver, symbol of martyrdom.

Their symbols serve as visual cues to help identify and distinguish the individual Apostles in religious art and iconography. It’s worth noting that some variations and interpretations of the symbols may exist in different traditions or artistic representations.

Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Paul, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.

An engraving is a printmaking technique that involves incising or carving a design onto a hard surface, typically a metal plate. The process is typically done with a sharp tool called a burin, although other tools can be used as well. Here’s a general overview of the engraving process:

  1. Plate Preparation: The artist begins with a flat, smooth metal plate, often made of copper, zinc, or steel. The plate is polished and cleaned to create a clean surface for the engraving.
  2. Incising the Design: Using a burin or another engraving tool, the artist cuts lines directly into the plate. The lines are incised with varying depths and thicknesses to create the desired effects of light, shade, and texture.
  3. Ink Application: After the engraving is complete, ink is applied to the plate. The ink is usually spread across the surface, filling the incised lines.
  4. Wiping and Printing: The excess ink is carefully wiped off the plate’s surface, leaving ink only in the incised lines. A sheet of paper is then placed on top of the plate, and both are passed through a printing press. The pressure transfers the ink from the incised lines onto the paper, creating the printed image.

Engravings can produce highly detailed and precise images with a distinctive quality. The process allows for intricate line work and shading effects, making it suitable for capturing fine details and subtle variations in tone. Engravings are often characterized by their crisp lines and rich contrasts. Engravings have been used for centuries by artists, particularly during the Renaissance and Baroque periods. They have also been utilized for illustrations, bookplates, currency printing, and decorative purposes.

Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Andrew, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), John, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), James the Greater, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Thomas, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), James the Less, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA. I am following the Rijksmuseum distinction here, that names this Lucas van Leyden print as James the Less; in the system of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, this is Judas Thaddeus.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Bartholomew, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Philip, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Judas Thaddeus, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA. I am following the Rijks museum distinction here, that names this Lucas van Leyden print as Judas Thaddeus; in the system of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, this is James the Less.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Simon, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Matthew, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.
Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, c.1494 – 1533), Matthias, from the series Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510), Engraving, 12×7cm, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA.

Hereunder a timetable linking the Italian Renaissance and Northern Renaissance, and linking the invention of book printing to the spread of the Reformation over the continent. Lucas van Leyden lived and worked at the dawn of the Reformation. His work originates from the tradition Catholic background. As reference, Rembrandt and the Dutch Golden Age are a century later.

  • 1433, Jan van Eyck

    Northern Renaissance artists, such as Jan van Eyck and Albrecht Dürer incorporated new techniques like oil painting and printmaking, contributing to the advancement of artistic practices.

    Jan van Eyck (Flemish, c.1390 – 1441), Portrait of a Man, Self-portrait (1433), National Gallery, London.

  • 1450, Gutenberg Bible

    The Gutenberg Bible was the first “printed” book. It was printed by Johannes Gutenberg in Mainz, Germany in 1450. The Gutenberg Bible is a landmark achievement in the history of printing and played a significant role in the dissemination of knowledge and the spread of the Protestant Reformation.

  • 1479, Sandro Botticelli

    One of the prominent artists of the Italian Renaissance whose works exemplify the ideals and themes of the classical mythology, humanism, and the exploration of perspective and proportion.

    Sandro Botticelli (Florentine, 1446 – 1510), Portrait of Giuliano de’ Medici (c.1479), National Gallery of Art, Washington.

  • 1498, Albrecht Dürer

    Painter, printmaker, and theorist; one of the most renowned figures associated with the Northern Renaissance. Dürer’s mastery of printmaking allowed for the wider dissemination of his works and ideas throughout Europe.

    Albrecht Dürer (German, 1471 – 1528), Self-portrait at 26 (1498), Prado, Madrid.

  • Lucas van Leyden (Netherlandish, 1494 – 1533) Series with Christ, Paul and the Twelve Apostles (c.1510)

  • 1517, Maarten Luther 

    On 31 October 1517, Martin Luther (1483 – 1546) nailed his 95 Theses to the door of All Saint’s Church in Wittenberg protesting at the sale of papal indulgences. This led to public debate about corruption in the Catholic Church and about church doctrine itself, and sparked off the Reformation.

    Lucas Cranach the Elder (German, 1472 – 1553), Portrait of Martin Luther (1528), Veste Coburg Art Collections, Coburg, Germany.

  • 1550, Johannes Calvin

    Johannes Calvin (1509 – 1564) was a French theologian and key figure of the Protestant Reformation. His teachings and writings, particularly the concept of predestination, shaped the development of Reformed theology and had a lasting impact on Protestant Christianity.

    Portrait by unknown painter (c.1550), Museum Catharijne Convent, Utrecht, The Netherlands.

  • 1566

    The “Beeldenstorm” (Iconoclastic Fury) refers to a series of violent outbreaks in the Netherlands in 1566. Protestant reformers expressed their opposition to the Catholic Church and its practices by vandalizing and destroying religious images and statues, particularly those found in churches and monasteries. The “Beeldenstorm” became the starting point of the Eighty Years’ War or Dutch Revolt (1566 – 1648), the protracted conflict where the Dutch provinces fought for independence from Spanish (and Catholic) rule, ultimately leading to the establishment of the Dutch Republic.

  • 1629, Rembrandt

    Rembrandt (Netherlandish, 1606 – 1669), Self-Portrait, Age 23 (1629), Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston, MA.