Tag: Reformation

The Return of the Lost Son

The Return of the Lost Son

Good Boy versus Bad Boy

A few months ago, I visited the Galleria Borghese in Rome with a dear friend. She is Protestant, religious, and far more fluent in the Bible than I am. As we walked through the museum, we came across the painting below, and she recognised it before I had even finished looking at it. ‘That’s the Lost Son, returning home,’ she said, ‘in the arms of his father.’ Then, after a pause: ‘It’s a story about the mercy of God. The Lost Son comes home and is received in his father’s arms — which is really a comparison to God’s mercy; with no questions asked.’

The Return of the Lost Son (c.1627), Guercino (Italian, 1591 – 1666), Oil on canvas, 125x163cm, Galleria Borghese, Rome.

I barely knew the story. So I went and studied it.

What struck me was how well the story survives being stripped of its religion entirely. At its bone structure, it’s simply this: a father has two sons. One leaves, spends everything — mostly on gambling, drinking and women — and comes home in disgrace. The other stays, works hard, does everything right, and grows quietly bitter about it. But both are equally his sons, and his love doesn’t distinguish between them. There is no good boy. There is no bad boy.

1. The beginning; getting the money

But let’s now start at the very beginning, with a young man who has just been handed his inheritance, and who has a very clear idea of how he intends to spend it.

The Lost Son receives his share (1532), One of eight scenes from the story of the Lost Son, German, Stained glass, Diameter 27cm, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

The Bible describes the moment quite simply, and so does this small stained glass panel from 1532.

A man had two sons. The younger son told his father, "I want my share of your estate now." And his father agreed to divide his wealth between his sons. 

Luke 15:12, adapted from the New Living Translation

The story comes from the Gospel according to Luke. In it, Jesus explains to his followers some essentials about God and God’s mercy, not by giving them a theological lecture, but by telling short and simple stories. These stories are called parables.

The word comes from the Greek παραβολή (parabolē), meaning ‘comparison’. A parable puts a familiar situation from everyday life next to a deeper truth, allowing the listener to compare the two and discover the meaning. In the Dutch Protestant church, these stories are called gelijkenissen, which can be translated quite literally as ‘comparisons’.

Before we go to the next picture, one small note about the title. The story is usually called The Return of the Prodigal Son. But I have always found the word ‘prodigal’ rather difficult. As a non-native English speaker, I had to look it up. It means someone who spends money freely and recklessly. It is a rather old-fashioned word. So throughout this story I will call him what my friend called him when she recognised Guercino’s painting in the Galleria Borghese: The Lost Son. And this story will be The Return of the Lost Son.

2. Spending the money

Rembrandt and Saskia in the parable of the Lost Son (c.1635), Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606 – 1669), Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Dresden.

When the younger son got his share of the inheritance, he spent it all. The Bible – the Gospel according to Luke – describes what happened pretty clearly:

A few days later this younger son packed all his belongings and moved to a distant land, and there he wasted all his money in wild living. 

Luke 15:13

Rembrandt’s painting of the Lost Son having fun is quite funny in itself. Rembrandt used himself and his wife Saskia as models: Rembrandt plays the Lost Son, drinking and enjoying himself, while Saskia sits on his lap as an entertaining woman in a tavern.

But there is a warning hidden in the painting, and you have to look carefully to see it. In the top left corner, hanging on the back wall, is a small board. It appears to be a tavern tally board, used to keep track of drinks and debts. The bill will soon arrive!

Brothel scene with the Lost Son (1545), by the Master of the Lost Son, Oil on panel, 61x86cm, Bonnefanten Museum, Maastricht, The Netherlands.

This painting from the Bonnefanten Museum in Maastricht makes the ‘wild living’ even clearer. Read it from left to right.

First, wine is being poured. Then we see the Lost Son embraced by a prostitute. Next to them, the old woman who runs the brothel keeps track of the drinks and spending, writing the amounts with a piece of chalk on the tally board. On the table are dice, telling us that gambling is part of the entertainment too.

And then comes the disaster, happening in the background on the right. The money is gone, the bill has arrived, and the Lost Son is chased out of the brothel. Even his clothes are gone. From an upper window, a pisspot is being emptied over him. And further to the right, almost reduced to a beggar, the Lost Son walks away. In the far distance, we can already see where he is heading: towards the swine.

The Lost Son kicked out of the brothel (c.1585), Engraving by Crispijn de Passe the elder (Dutch, c.1565 – 1637) after a design by Marten de Vos (Flemish, 1532 – 1603), 23x18cm, Art Institute Chicago.

Here are some details in the print by Crispijn de Passe. Look at the pisspot being emptied over his head. And look at the signboard, featuring a swan. A swan was a very common sign for an inn or tavern in the Netherlands, but it has another meaning too. In the old Dutch language, swaentje, or ‘little swan’, could also refer to a prostitute. So the swan on the signboard is another clue that this is not simply an inn, but a house of prostitution.

And there is the Latin verse underneath:

Omnibus absumptis ferventi expellitur ira
When everything has been spent, he is kicked out in anger.

The money is gone, the party is over, and the Lost Son is out on the street, humiliated and stripped of almost everything he had.

3. Broke, Living with Pigs, Plan B

The Lost Son eats with the swine (c.1596), Engraving by Philip Galle (Flemish, 1537 – 1612) after a design by Maerten van Heemskerck (Dutch, 1498 – 1574), 21x25cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

The next image, by the Flemish engraver Philip Galle, reads like a comic book, from right to left. And Luke describes the scene similarly:

About the time his money ran out, a great famine swept over the land, and he began to starve. He persuaded a local farmer to hire him, and the man sent him into his fields to feed the pigs. The young man became so hungry that even the pods he was feeding the pigs looked good to him. 

Luke 15:14–16

That is what we see on the right and in the middle. The Lost Son is broke, starving and reduced to feeding pigs.

But now an interesting part begins. On the left, the Lost Son is looking upwards, towards a heavenly figure. Is he praying? Is he repenting? Or is he simply crying out to God in desperation?

We need to think one step ahead now. The Lost Son is about to go home. And when he gets there, his father will receive him with mercy, the father as a symbol of God. And here we encounter a difference in the way Catholics and Protestants understand this part of the story. In Catholic theology, God’s mercy is closely connected with the sacrament of confession and penance. In Protestant tradition, the emphasis is placed directly on God’s grace and forgiveness, received through faith rather than through sacramental confession. Remember, during the Reformation Luther and Calvin rejected confession as a sacrament.

So I dare to make a small leap. Could this engraving have been made for a Catholic audience? The Lost Son is not simply suffering. In the scene on the left he is turning towards God, and is it his repentance that’s the first step on the road home?

The Lost Son amid the swine (c.1496), Albrecht Dürer (German, 1471 – 1528), Engraving, 25x19cm, Royal Collection Trust, London.

Dürer’s print is probably the most famous depiction of the Lost Son with the swine. It is the moment when he realises that things cannot go on like this, that he needs to follow Plan B and return home.

When he finally came to his senses, he said to himself, "At home even the servants have food enough, and here I am dying of hunger! I will go home to my father and say, Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son. Please take me on as a servant."

Luke 15:17–19

In my personal view, the Lost Son is taking the opportunistic route. Going home is now simply the least bad option. Leaping forward, when he arrives home and is received with happiness, it is the mercy of the father that deserves the credit, not necessarily the Lost Son’s feeling of guilt.

And then there is Dürer himself! He was in his mid twenties when he made this engraving. Only a few years earlier, during his travels through Germany, his father had summoned him home, and Dürer was married to Agnes Frey, who brought a substantial dowry. Within months, however, Dürer left his new wife and travelled to Italy, spending much of his time (and Agnes’ money) in Venice. So here is an intriguing coincidence. Dürer himself had left home, travelled south and enjoyed the pleasures of Italy before returning to Nuremberg. Did he, like his Lost Son, eventually come to his senses and decide to go home?

4. Home, Happy Father

The Return of the Lost Son (c.1654), Guercino (Italian, 1591 – 1666), Oil on canvas, 156x146cm, Timken Museum of Art, San Diego, CA.

And then the Lost Son finally comes home.

So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. His son said to him, "Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son."

Luke 15:20–21

Looking at Guercino’s painting from the Timken Museum, the Lost Son arrives playing his little crying game. But do we really need that? The core of the parable is not the Lost Son’s tears, or even his repentance. It is the father’s reaction. He sees his son coming and runs to meet him. He embraces him. No blaming. No questions. No punishment. Just happiness.

The Return of the Lost Son (1773), Pompeo Batoni (Italian, 1708 – 1787), Oil on canvas, 138x100cm, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

And that, after all, is the point of the parable. The father in the story is the comparison with God the Father. The Lost Son may cry, repent, apologise or say nothing at all. God does not need the performance. No tears needed. Just come home. Jesus told this parable to his followers as an understandable way of showing God’s grace and mercy. And Luke recorded it in his Gospel.

The Return of the Lost Son (c.1667), Bartolomé Estebán Murillo (Spanish, 1618 – 1682), Oil on canvas, 236x261cm, National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC.

Murillo makes it like a film scene in this monumental painting, following literally the words of Luke, from right to left:

His father said to the servants, "Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found." So the party began.

Luke 15:22–24

5. Unhappy Brother

Now about his brother, the elder son, who watches all this with growing resentment. Why is there so much joy over his wasteful brother, when he himself has always listened, worked hard and done everything properly?

Meanwhile, the older son was in the fields working. When he returned home, he heard music and dancing in the house, and he asked one of the servants what was going on. "Your brother is back", he was told, "and your father has killed the fattened calf. We are celebrating because of his safe return."

Luke 15:25–27

Mercy towards sinners, and forgiveness towards sons who have squandered everything, would probably not have been an easy message for many people at that time. The accepted idea was surely that bad behaviour should be punished and good behaviour rewarded. We see exactly this attitude in the elder son. He is angry because there is no reward for him, despite everything he has done right, and no punishment for his brother, despite everything he has done wrong.

The return of the Lost Son (c.1640), Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606 – 1669), Drawing, 19x23cm, Teylers Museum, Haarlem, The Netherlands.
The older brother was angry and wouldn’t go in. His father came out and begged him, but he replied, "All these years I’ve slaved for you and never once refused to do a single thing you told me to. And in all that time you never gave me even one young goat for a feast with my friends. Yet when this son of yours comes back after squandering your money on prostitutes, you celebrate by killing the fattened calf!" 

Luke 15:28–30

Now it’s the older brother who doesn’t want to come home. In a way, he is now the Lost Son. And suddenly the elder son is no longer quite so different from his younger brother.

6. Happy End!

At the beginning of the story, the father gives the younger son the freedom to leave and spend his inheritance. He also gives the elder son the freedom to stay, work hard and do everything right. When the younger son returns, the story focuses entirely on the interaction between the father and this Lost Son. There is, in Luke’s telling, no interaction between the two brothers at all.

But I am missing the Happy End. Does the elder brother eventually join the welcome party? Does he sit down at the festive table and eat the fattened calf? Do the two brothers finally put their differences aside and make peace? Luke leaves us hanging. His final verse has the father speaking to the elder son, who is still standing outside:

"We have to celebrate this happy day. For your brother was dead and has come back to life! He was lost, but now he is found!"

Luke 15:32

And then? Well, I am going to add one more verse myself.

And the older brother went into the house, embraced his brother and said: "Welcome home. I am happy you are back." And the younger brother said: "I am happy to be back, and sorry for the troubles." And the father and his two sons sat together, ate the festive meal and raised their glasses together. Cheers!

A Happy End is not so difficult, once one dares to take that step!

Famous Sinners

Famous Sinners

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

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

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

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

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

Protestant Reformation and Catholic Counter-Reformation

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

Protestant Reformation

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

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

Catholic Counter-Reformation

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

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

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

The Apostle Peter

Peter (c.1609), from the series Sinners of the Old and New Testament (Plate 1-6), Engraving by Willem Isaacsz. van Swanenburg (Dutch, 1580 – 1612) after design by Abraham Bloemaert (Dutch, 1564 – 1651), 27x17cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

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

The Denial of Saint Peter (c.1620), Gerard Seghers (Flemish, 1591 – 1651), Oil on canvas, 173x227cm), North Carolina Museum of Art.

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

Saint Peter Penitent (c.1618), Gerrit van Honthorst (Dutch, 1592 – 1656), Oil on canvas, 110x97cm, The Kremer Collection.

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

The Apostle Paul

Paul (c.1609), from the series Sinners of the Old and New Testament (Plate 2-6), Engraving by Willem Isaacsz. van Swanenburg (Dutch, 1580 – 1612) after design by Abraham Bloemaert (Dutch, 1564 – 1651), 27x17cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

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

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.

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

The Apostle Paul in Contemplation (c.1629), Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606 – 1669), Oil on panel, 47x39cm, Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nürnberg, Germany.

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

The tax collector Zacchaeus

Zacchaeus (c.1609), from the series Sinners of the Old and New Testament (Plate 3-6), Engraving by Willem Isaacsz. van Swanenburg (Dutch, 1580 – 1612) after design by Abraham Bloemaert (Dutch, 1564 – 1651), 27x17cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

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

Jesus encounters the tax collector Zacchaeus (c.1480), illustration by Jean Colombe (c.1430 - c.1493) form the manuscript Vie de Jésus-Christ by Ludolf of Saxony, MS 178, fol.89v., Bibliotheque nationale de France, Paris.
Jesus encounters the tax collector Zacchaeus (c.1480), illustration by Jean Colombe (French, c.1430 – c.1493) form the manuscript Vie de Jésus-Christ by Ludolf of Saxony, MS 178, fol.89v., Bibliotheque nationale de France, Paris.

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

Zacchaeus and Christ, in an Initial D (c.1170), Illustration from the Stammheim Missal manuscript, unknown artist, created in Hildesheim Germany, Tempera colors, gold leaf, silver leaf, and ink, sheet 28x19cm, Getty, Los Angeles.

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

Mary Magdalene

Magdalene (c.1609), from the series Sinners of the Old and New Testament (Plate 4-6), Engraving by Willem Isaacsz. van Swanenburg (Dutch, 1580 – 1612) after design by Abraham Bloemaert (Dutch, 1564 – 1651), 27x17cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

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

Mary Magdalen and Christ jat the tomb, just after the Resurrection (1638), Rembrandt van Rijn (Dutch, 1606 – 1669), 61x50cm, Royal Collection Trust, Buckingham Palace, London.

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

The Penitent Magdalen (c.1635), Gerrit Dou (Dutch, 1613 – 1675), Oil on panel, 26x19cm, Nationalmuseum, Stockholm.

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

King Saul

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

Saul (c.1609), from the series Sinners of the Old and New Testament (Plate 5-6), Engraving by Willem Isaacsz. van Swanenburg (Dutch, 1580 – 1612) after design by Abraham Bloemaert (Dutch, 1564 – 1651), 27x17cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

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

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

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

Judas Iscariot

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

Judas Iscariot (c.1609), from the series Sinners of the Old and New Testament (Plate 6-6), Engraving by Willem Isaacsz. van Swanenburg (Dutch, 1580 – 1612) after design by Abraham Bloemaert (Dutch, 1564 – 1651), 27x17cm, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

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

Kiss of Judas (c.1503), illustration by Jean Bourdichon (French, c.1457 – 1521) from the manuscript Les Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne (The Grandes Heures of Anne of Brittany), MS lat. 9474, fol.227v., Bibliotheque nationale de France, Paris.

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

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

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

Closing Notes

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

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

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

Bonus: Zacchaeus in the Palm Tree?

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

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

The entry into Jerusalem (c.1412), illustration by the Limbourg brothers, from the manuscript Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, MS 65, fol.173v., Bibliothèque et archives du Château de Chantilly.
Entry into Jerusalem (c.1305), Giotto (Italian, 1266 – 1337), Fresco, 200x185cm, Scrovegni Chapel, Padua, Italy.
Entry into Jerusalem (c.1308), detail from the Maestà, Duccio di Buoninsegna (Italian, c.1255 – 1319), Tempera and gold on wood, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, Siena.
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.