Tag: Prophet

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

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

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 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.

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 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 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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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 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 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.

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.
Isaiah and Jeremiah

Isaiah and Jeremiah

“Prophets, Prophecies, and Their Fulfilment

I’ve been thinking for a long time that I want to understand the Prophets better — their role in the Jewish Hebrew Bible, their place in the Christian Old Testament, and even how they appear in New Testament stories about the life of Jesus. But when I look at how the Prophets are shown in art, it’s not so easy. They usually look like wise old men, deep in thought, sometimes holding a book or mostly a scroll — probably because back in the time they lived, around 600–900 BC, there were no books yet, only scrolls for writing. Without a name or a clear symbol, it’s almost impossible to tell one Prophet from another. Maybe that’s why artists who painted or engraved series of Prophets often made sure to write their names somewhere. Otherwise, they would just be a group of thoughtful old men.

How to get to know these Prophets, beyond just their faces and names?

Let’s start with Isaiah and Jeremiah, who (together with Ezekiel and Daniel) are considered the Major Prophets. The term “major” here refers not so much to their importance over others, but more to the length of their prophetic books, which are part of both the Christian Old Testament and the Jewish Hebrew Bible.

The Prophet Isaiah

Isaiah (sometimes as Jesaiah or Jesaja) prophesied during a time of great political upheaval, in the 7th Century BC, and is known for his peace predicting visions. He is considered as the author of the Bible book named after him. Besides messages of hope and peace, the later chapters are often interpreted as Messianic, meaning that Isaiah announced the arrival of a world-peace keeper, to be interpreted as a new king in his own days, or interpreted by Christians as the arrival of Jesus.

Isaiah 7:14 and Its Different Interpretations.

Immanuel or Jesus?

The prophet Isaiah says in his Bible book in verse 7:14: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” How to interpret this from a Christian point of view? “Immanuel” means “God with us” in Hebrew. Isaiah’s prophecy seems to say that the child will be called that name. But when Jesus is born, he is named Jesus (from Hebrew Yeshua, meaning “The Lord saves”), not Immanuel. Why? The evangelist Matthew, who writes about Jesus’ life in his book in the New Testament, explicitly connects “Jesus” with “Immanuel”. In Matthew 1:22–23, where Matthew writes about the birth of Jesus, he says that Jesus’ birth fulfills Isaiah’s prophecy of 600 years earlier, as Matthew clearly sees Jesus as embodying God is with us (which is the meaning of the name Immanuel) even though his personal name is Jesus. Name problem solved, according to Matthew

Virgin or Not-a-Virgin?

Now about Isaiah’s use of the word “virgin”. In the original Hebrew Bible, the verse says that an “almah” — a young woman — will conceive and bear a son. The Hebrew word “almah” simply means a young woman of marriageable age; it does not specifically mean virgin. If Isaiah had intended to stress virginity, he would have used a more virgin-specific word. Several centuries before Christ, Jewish scholars translated the Hebrew Bible into Greek. In their translation of Isaiah 7:14, they chose the Greek word “parthenos” which means virgin, not just young woman. This translation had a major impact: it shaped how early Christians, who often read the Bible in Greek, understood Isaiah’s prophecy. Later, in the Latin translation of the Greek Bible, the verse was rendered: “Ecce Virgo Concipiet” — “Look, the Virgin shall conceive.”

This Latin version “Ecce Virgo Concipiet” or simply “Ecce Virgo” reinforced the Christian reading that Isaiah had foretold a miraculous virgin birth. In the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 1:22–23), the birth of Jesus from the Virgin Mary is thus presented as the direct fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. For Christians, Jesus is seen as “Immanuel” (“God is with us”), with a “virgin” mother, which was announced by Isaiah seven centuries earlier.

In Jewish interpretation, however, Isaiah 7:14 is understood differently. It is seen as a prophecy intended for Isaiah’s own time as Isaiah was speaking directly to King Ahaz of Judah about a political and military crisis happening at that time (around 735 BC). Two enemy kings were threatening Jerusalem, and Isaiah was reassuring King Ahaz that God would protect Judah. The child mentioned likely referred to a contemporary birth — perhaps the future King of Judah — and not to a miraculous virgin birth in the distant future, seven centuries later. In this view, the name “Immanuel” would symbolically express God’s support for Judah during the immediate crisis, not predict a future Messiah born centuries later.

Summary: in the Jewish view: Isaiah 7:14 refers to a young woman in Isaiah’s own time, not to a virgin birth. In the Christian view: Isaiah 7:14 foretells the virgin birth of Jesus, as echoed in the Latin phrase “Ecce Virgo Concipiet”.

Isaiah and Fra Angelico’s Valdarno Annunciation.

Let’s look at the connection between Isaiah’s Prophecy and the Annunciation in Fra Angelico’s Valdarno Annunciation (c. 1430). It’s not just a typical depiction of the biblical moment when the Archangel Gabriel announces to the Virgin Mary that she will conceive Jesus. It is a visual commentary on the connection between the Old and New Testaments, specifically the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy.

In the center of the composition, a unique tondo (a circular frame) prominently features Isaiah holding a scroll inscribed with the Latin phrase “Ecce Virgo Concipiet” (“Look, the Virgin shall conceive”), directly referencing Isaiah 7:14. This prophecy foretold that a virgin would bear a son, a passage which Christians believe is fulfilled in the birth of Jesus. By placing Isaiah’s scroll in the Annunciation scene, Fra Angelico visually unites the Old Testament prophecy with the New Testament event, making it clear that Mary’s conception of Christ is the fulfillment of what was promised centuries earlier. The scroll not only links the two Testaments but also serves as a bridge between the prophetic and the fulfillment, allowing viewers to see the continuity of divine purpose across time. The phrase “Ecce”, meaning “look” or “see,” calls the viewer’s attention to the importance of Mary’s role. Isaiah with his scroll tells us viewers directly and literally: “Look, here is Mary’s conception of Christ!”

By integrating Isaiah into the scene, Fra Angelico emphasizes the idea that Christ’s birth was not a sudden, isolated event but the culmination of 700 year promise. In essence, Fra Angelico’s Valdarno Annunciation is a masterful visual exploration of prophecy and fulfillment, inviting the viewer to reflect on the continuity of God’s word from the Old to the New Testament, with Isaiah as the messenger.

Jewish versus Christian perspective.

From the Jewish perspective, it can seem like Christians are hijacking (or reinterpreting beyond the original context) Isaiah’s prophecy from some 700 years earlier. From the Christian perspective, the idea is more like the Old Testament has deeper layers, hidden meanings that are only revealed through Christ. The evangelist Matthew (and later Christian thinkers) read the whole Old Testament as pointing ahead to Jesus, even if the people in Isaiah’s time didn’t realize it yet. So for Christians, it’s not hijacking, it’s fulfilling.

In short: Jews say Christians misread Isaiah; Christians say Isaiah was prophesying deeper truths without even fully knowing it.

Isaiah 2:4 and the Vision of Peace and a World without War

In Isaiah 2:4, the prophet describes a future time when nations will no longer make war, but will instead turn their tools of violence into tools of cultivation and life:

“They will hammer their swords into ploughshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will no longer fight against nation,
nor train for war anymore.”

In Isaiah’s vision, weapons are literally reshaped into farming tools: swords become ploughshares (blades for turning the soil, as agricultural instruments), and spears become pruning hooks (used to tend vines and trees). It became a symbol of transforming destruction into creation, war into peace, and death into life. This prophecy captures Isaiah’s forward-looking hope for a world ruled by divine justice and wisdom, where international conflicts are settled peacefully, and where humanity’s energy is devoted not to violence but to sustaining life and nurturing the earth.

Isaiah and Brueghel’s Peace Vision Painting.

A visual interpretation of Isaiah’s prophecy appears in Brueghel’s Isaiah’s Prophecy (c. 1609), housed in the Alte Pinakothek in Munich. This oil-on-copper painting captures Isaiah’s vision of peace, specifically the transformation of weapons into tools of cultivation. The central theme “They shall beat their swords into ploughshares” (Isaiah 2:4), is vividly depicted with a putto burning a helmet and figures on the left who are literally shown reshaping swords into ploughshares and other agricultural tools, symbolizing the cessation of war and the beginning of a harmonious, peaceful era.

The painting likely refers to a ceasefire signed in 1609 between the Spanish Catholic suppressor and the Dutch Protestant Revolt faction in the Low Countries (the Twelve Years’ Truce during the Eighty Years’ War). The three women in the scene on the right, representing Fortune, Faith, and Abundance, symbolize the blessings and positive outcomes that peace can bring.

Isaiah can be seen holding a tablet with his prophecy:

Iudicabit gentes, et arguet populos multos;
et conflabunt gladios suos in vomeres, et lanceas suas in falces.

or

He shall judge among the nations, and instruct many peoples;
and they shall forge their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.

And in Isaiah 11:6-8, he describes a perfect world where all creatures of nature live in a perfect harmony. Besides a future living-in-harmony vision, this description also shows the daily dangers of nature in Isaiah’s time:

In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together;
the leopard will lie down with the baby goat.
The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion,
and a little child will lead them all.
The cow will graze near the bear.
The cub and the calf will lie down together.
The lion will eat hay like a cow.
The baby will play safely near the hole of a cobra.
Yes, a little child will put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes without harm.

Isaiah and the United Nations.

Before we move on to Jeremiah, our next Prophet, let’s close Isaiah’s story with a glimpse of how his vision still lives on in our world today.

Outside the United Nations Headquarters in New York stands a bronze sculpture titled Let Us Beat Swords into Ploughshares. Created by Soviet artist Evgeniy Vuchetich (from Ukraine) and presented by the Soviet Union to the UN in 1959, the statue depicts a muscular man forging a sword into a ploughshare with a hammer. This imagery directly references the vision of peace articulated by the Prophet Isaiah, who proclaimed: “They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” (Isaiah 2:4). The sculpture embodies Isaiah’s prophetic hope for a future where instruments of war are transformed into tools for nurturing life, symbolizing a universal aspiration for peace and the end of conflict.

IIsaiah lived in the 8th century BC, during a time of political turmoil and moral decline in the Kingdom of Judah. He called for justice and righteousness, while also offering some of the most hopeful and enduring promises in the biblical tradition. His visions express the hope for a world where violence, fear, and injustice are overcome by harmony, justice, and peace. It is a universal prophecy, and it speaks to every age.

The Prophet Jeremiah

Jeremiah is another of the major prophets of the Hebrew Bible, known for his impassioned warnings and deep sorrow over the fate of his people. His prophecies include warnings of coming judgment, but also give hope for restoration.

The Weeping Prophet.

Jeremiah lived in the late 7th and early 6th centuries BC and prophesied during a time of great political and spiritual crisis in the Kingdom of Judah. Jeremiah warned that Jerusalem would fall because of the people’s unfaithfulness to God, condemning idolatry, social injustice, and the corruption of both leaders and priests. His warnings came true when the Babylonians, under King Nebuchadnezzar II, destroyed Jerusalem and looted its Temple in 586 BC, leading to the exile of many Jews to Babylon.

Because of the emotional depth of his laments — especially those expressed in the Bible Book of Lamentations, traditionally attributed to him — Jeremiah is often called the “weeping prophet.” His name gave rise to the word jeremiad, meaning a long, mournful complaint. His name survives in the given name Jeremy.

In art, Jeremiah is typically portrayed as an elderly, bearded man, often seated or hunched in a posture of grief or deep contemplation. He may appear weeping or lost in thought, his head resting on his hand in a gesture of sadness and lamentation. On Rembrandt’s painting hereunder, Jeremiah is mourning the destruction of Jerusalem. The old prophet sits on the rocky slope of a mountain, his head resting on his left hand. On a stone beside him lie a golden bowl, a jug, and books, relics from the destroyed temple. In the lower left, the burning buildings of Jerusalem can be seen.

One of the most famous depictions is Michelangelo’s Jeremiah on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, his head resting on his hand in a posture of mournful reflection.

Michaelangelo as Jeremiah, a self-portrait?

Interestingly, Michelangelo’s depiction of Jeremiah in the Sistine Chapel may have a personal twist. Some art historians suggest that the anguished expression of the prophet could actually be a self-portrait of Michelangelo himself. At the time, Michelangelo was deep into his monumental work on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, a project that was taking far longer than expected. Pope Julius II’s persistent demands for progress left Michelangelo feeling trapped and frustrated, and it’s said that the artist infused some of his own lamentation and weariness into Jeremiah’s portrayal. Perhaps, in this depiction, the weeping prophet is not only mourning the fate of his people but also expressing Michelangelo’s own sorrow over the endless toil of the commission.

Closing Remarks, Jeremiah and Isaiah in modern days.

Both Jeremiah and Isaiah speak to people in times of crisis, but their emotional tone and prophetic focus differ. Jeremiah is deeply rooted in lament and mourning. He bears witness to downfall and trauma, giving voice to sorrow, both that of others and his own, as if he personally carries the pain. His spirit is introspective and somber, focused on exposing the depth of the wound. Isaiah, by contrast, speaks with an eye toward hope and restoration. His prophecies are filled with visions of peace and a transformed world. He is forward-looking, pointing the way to healing and offering a horizon of promise and joy.

In simple terms: Jeremiah names the wound and weeps over it; Isaiah envisions the cure and sings of its coming.

Together, they can help heal the human heart. When we are weighed down by loss, we can think of Jeremiah and Isaiah: Jeremiah gives us the space to mourn, to acknowledge sorrow without shame. Isaiah reaches out from the future, offering hope, renewal, and the promise of joy once again.