Franciscan at Home

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“God is the author of Sacred Scripture,” and “God inspired the human authors of the sacred books.”[1] These catechetical truths are brought to life in a masterpiece painting titled, “Saint Jerome and the Angel,” from the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. Completed around 1625, this ethereal image is the work of the French Baroque painter, Simon Vouet. His masterful use of color, light, and line offers a visual catechesis on the power and beauty of God’s Word in the life of Saint Jerome, revered saint and Doctor of the Church. “Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.” These words attributed to Saint Jerome direct our gaze to the person of Jesus Christ, who stands at the heart of Sacred Scripture. And in this masterpiece image we are given a glimpse into the witness of a saint whose life was devoted entirely to Christ, present and active in his Word. As the Church concludes the celebration of a Jubilee Year of Mercy, this image also invites us to feast on the riches of God’s merciful Word, in imitation of the holy witness of Saint Jerome. Vouet places the aging Saint Jerome seated at a well-used writing table. An open book filled with words lies in front of him, while a scroll on which he is about to write unfolds at the center of the desk. His lean, muscular frame reminds us that his scholarly work was the fruit of many years of saintly asceticism. For Saint Jerome completed most of his contemplation of God’s Word and his scholarly works as a simple ascetic. An ink well, and an hour glass, on the desk suggest that the saintly scholar has labored for many years with prayerful dedication and love of God’s Word. These items together with the skull on his desk are also meant to remind us of the transience of earthly life and the promise of immortal life in the power of Christ’s resurrection.

Can an artist reveal the reality of heaven, the identity of God, and the glorious, eternal Queenship of Mary the Mother of God all in one image? This was the challenge set before Enguerrand Quarton, the Early Renaissance artist, in 1453, when Jean de Montagnac, the chaplain of the Carthusian Charterhouse of Villeneuve-les-Avignon in France, commissioned him. In the commission contract, which survives today, emphasis was placed on several specific inclusions: the realms of heaven and of earth, with attributes appropriate to each. Earth is depicted in a compressed horizontal band of space stretching from Rome to Jerusalem. Heaven is depicted with a multitude of figures, including the persons of the Trinity and Mary. Aspects of the iconographic program of the Coronation of the Virgin have made this not only a historical art masterwork but also a remarkable image of the particular relationships depicted within.

In this issue's "Inspired through Art" department, Jem Sullivan introduces a method of teaching with art that follows the contours of the ancient practice of lectio divina. In addition to offering a synopsis of this promising approach, she then shows how to use it to reflect upon a masterpiece from the Italian Renaissance. We live in a visual culture. From our waking moments to the day’s end, our senses are accessing the natural world and the visual culture that surrounds us. As catechists, we know this visual culture well from our daily experience of print, electronic and social media, mass communication, and entertainment; and the dominant visual culture also shapes those we are privileged to catechize. In a culture of images, how might the rich heritage of Christian art serve catechesis and evangelization? What catechetical methods might we employ to lead those we catechize to deeper faith in Christ through reflection on masterpieces of Christian art? In this article, we will consider the ancient spiritual practice of lectio divina and its adaptation today for reflection upon works of art. To gain a good sense for how lectio divina could be employed in this way, this method will be used to reflect in a catechetical manner upon a masterpiece painting of the Annunciation by Giovanni di Paolo. Why Attend to Beauty in Christian Art? Christian art speaks the language of the Incarnation. In his book, The Spirit of the Liturgy, Pope Benedict XVI drew attention to the theological basis of Christian art when he noted that, “the complete absence of images is incompatible with faith in the Incarnation of God.”[1] Both Saint John Paul II and Pope Francis urge catechists to attend to the vast Christian artistic tradition as a means of evangelization and catechesis. Pope John Paul II observed that, “in the history of human culture…believers have gained from art in their experience of prayer and Christian living…[I]n times when few could read or write, [artistic] representations of the bible were a concrete mode of catechesis…[since] every genuine art form in its own way is a path to the inmost reality of man and of the world.”[2] Pope Francis highlights the evangelizing role of art when he wrote, “every form of catechesis would do well to attend to the “way of beauty” (via pulchritudinis). Proclaiming Christ means showing that to believe in and to follow him is not only something right and true, but also something beautiful, capable of filling life with new splendor and profound joy, even in the midst of difficulties. Every expression of true beauty can thus be acknowledged as a path leading to an encounter with the Lord Jesus…So a formation in the via pulchritudinis ought to be part of our effort to pass on the faith.”[3]

A manuscript illumination from the medieval Bedford Hours

How can we understand mercy? When mercy flows, it washes away time and place. Mercy is a mystery that springs from the heart and contains a borderless charity that does not point at the sinner nor to sin; instead, mercy restores unity. According to St. John Paul the Great, mercy also removes any hierarchy between subject and object. In his encyclical, Dives in Misericordia (Richness in Mercy), he writes that mercy does not set the forgiving person against the one being forgiven; rather, mercy creates a destination to which all may arrive and invites the participants into this place of restoration. Our participation in this boundless quality of mercy is an outcome of divine grace, outpoured upon us as a result of the Paschal Mystery; it helps us to grow in holiness and be more like our merciful Father, the Author of mercy.

This image is a page from a book that has come to be known as the Bedford Hours, an early 15th century illuminated manuscript form of a “book of hours”—a devotional book of prayers and meditations set to the readings in the Daily Office or Liturgy of the Hours. We don’t know who commissioned this Bedford Hours, but it took its name from the Duke of Bedford, John of Lancaster, when his wife Anne of Burgundy, purchased it for him sometime after their marriage in 1423. Recent scholars believe that the “Bedford School,” a group of artists, produced the book. The “Bedford School” included one anonymous master called “the Bedford Master,” who produced this crucifixion, which accompanies the prayers for the Hour of None, the ninth hour or 3:00 pm. The book took many years to become what we see today.

The image, as many illuminations found in the late medieval period, contains figurative scenes, enlarged and complex letters, carefully executed lines of text, and elaborate border decoration. The artist uses an entire banquet of visual forms: banderoles, which are unfurling banners that provide spaces for dialogue text, especially the last words of Jesus; roundels, which are small openings with supporting scenes of other moments from the Passion; elaborate capital letters, such as the “D” to start the words Deus and Domine and the “O” to start O God and O Lord; as well as expansive marginalia filled with lavish decoration.

Here the author presents us with a beautiful reflection for the Jubilee Year of Mercy.

Repentance at the font of God’s mercy is at the heart of Christian discipleship. Yet how is an artist to depict the interior movement of a repentant heart that returns to God, who is rich in mercy? The parable of the prodigal son, recounted in Luke 15:11-32, offers a radical image of reconciliation between a repentant son and his merciful father. It evokes the interior journey of repentance in each one of us as we stand in need of God’s mercy and forgiveness.
Countless artists have attempted to bring this biblical passage to life. Rembrandt van Rijn’s The Return of the Prodigal Son is, by far, one of the most evocative of these “visual homilies.” One cannot be left unmoved before this unforgettable image, permanently housed at the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia.
Completed around 1668, towards the end of his life, the painting is the crowning achievement of Rembrandt’s remarkable artistic career. The Dutch master painter skillfully leads the viewer from the details of the story into the heart of its theological and spiritual meaning. He also conveys, with his masterful brush in subtle color and fine chiaroscuro, several profound themes that catechists and teachers will find particularly relevant and inspiring.

Word and image
To reflect on a masterpiece of biblical art requires a prayerful reading of the Sacred Scriptures that inspired it. In the fifteenth chapter of Saint Luke’s Gospel, Jesus recounts three parables to an assorted group of Pharisees, tax collectors, and sinners. The simple joy of finding what once was lost—a stray sheep, a valuable coin, or a wayward son—is the thread that ties these parables together.

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Rembrandt’s painting, The Supper at Emmaus, conveys the awe and wonder of the revelation of Christ in The Eucharist. Here then are definitions of terms used in this article:

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Worksheet for studying Rembrandt's Holy Family painting.