Texts by Sophie Mouquin: The Story of Abraham, Jacob’s Ladder, The Crossing of the Red Sea, Moses Striking Water from the Rock, The Manna, The Dream of Elijah, The Annunciation, The Visitation, The Nativity, The Adoration of the Shepherds, Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, The Holy Family with Bird, Christ among the Scribes, The Baptism of Christ, The Temptation of Christ on the Mountain, The Calling of Saint Peter and Saint Andrew, The Return of the Prodigal Son, The Tribute Money, Christ and the Adulterous Woman, The Raising of Lazarus, The Agony in the Garden, Jesus Christ and the Good Thief, The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, Pentecost Altarpiece of Stavelot. Texts by Delphine Mouquin: The Creation of the World, The Creation of Man, The Morning after the Deluge, Moses Receiving the Tablets of the Law, Samuel Consecrating David, The Wedding Feast at Cana, The Transfiguration, The Samaritan Woman, The Last Supper, The Washing of the Feet, Christ before Pontius Pilate, The Crucifixion with Saint Jerome and Saint Francis, The Women Going to the Sepulchre, Noli me tangere, The Ascension, Lamb on Mount Sion. Publisher: Romain Lizé Editor: Gabrielle Charaudeau Graphic design: Diane Danis Iconography: Isabelle Mascaras Translation: Thomas Jacobi Proofreading: Anna Zaranko and Samuel Wigutow Production: Thierry Dubus and Julia Mirenda Photoengraving: Diane Danis and Les Caméléons Biblical texts are taken from the New American Bible, revised edition © 2010 © 2022 by Magnificat Inc. All rights reserverd. Printed in September 2024 by Rotolito Romania. First edition: September 2024 ISBN: 978-1-63967-127-4 No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles o reviews. For more information, write to Magnificat, PO Box 834, Yonkers, NY 10702 www.magnificat.com
Magnificat® Par i s · New York · Madr id · Ox ford Sophie Mouquin Delphine Mouquin
4 Table of contents Foreword 8 OLD TESTAMENT The Creation of the World Vincent Raymond de Lodève 10 The Creation of Man Unamed 14 The Morning after the Deluge Joseph Mallord William Turner 18 The Story of Abraham: The Apparition at the Oaks of Mamre and the Sacrifice of Isaac Lorenzo Ghiberti 22 Jacob’s Ladder Jacques Stella 26 The Crossing of the Red Sea Raffaello Sanzio, called Raphael 30 Moses Receiving the Tablets of the Law Marc Chagall 34 Moses Striking Water from the Rock Joseph-Marie Vien 38 The Manna Colin Nouailher 42 Samuel Consecrating David Victor Biennoury 46 The Dream of Elijah Philippe de Champaigne 52
5 NEW TESTAMENT The Annunciation Bernardino di Betto, called Pinturicchio 56 The Visitation: The Virgin of the Magnificat Jean Jouvenet 60 The Nativity Federico Barocci 64 The Adoration of the Shepherds Louis Le Nain 68 Presentation of Jesus in the Temple Rembrandt van Rijn 74 The Holy Family with a Little Bird Bartolomé Estéban Murillo 78
6 Christ among the Scribes José de Ribera 84 The Baptism of Christ Piero della Francesca 88 The Temptation of Christ on the Mountain Duccio di Buoninsegna 92 The Calling of Saint Peter and Saint Andrew Giorgio Vasari 96 The Wedding Feast at Cana Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld 100 The Transfiguration Unknown artist from Nicaea (Iznik) or Nicomedia (Izmit) 106 The Samaritan Woman Unamed 110 The Return of the Prodigal Son Pompeo Girolamo Batoni 114 The Tribute Money Peter Paul Rubens 118 Christ and the Adulterous Woman Lorenzo Lotto 122 The Raising of Lazarus Eugène Delacroix 128 The Last Supper Giotto di Bondone 132 The Washing of the feet Unamed 136 The Agony in the Garden Andrea Mantegna 140 Christ before Pontius Pilate Hans Holbein 144 The Crucifixion with Saint Jerome and Saint Francis Francesco Pesellino 148
7 Jesus Christ and the Good Thief Attributed to Titian 152 The Women Going to the Sepulchre Robert Anning Bell 156 Noli me tangere Maurice Denis 160 The Incredulity of Saint Thomas Michelangelo Merisi, called Caravaggio 164 The Ascension Unamed 168 Pentecost Altarpiece of Stavelot Unamed 172 The Lamb on Mount Sion Unamed 176 Art credits 182
8 Foreword At the end of the 1990s, the liturgical magazine Magnificat was founded in the United States to respond to Second Vatican Council’s call to adapt the Liturgy of the Hours “to the needs of lively, personal prayer,” particularly among laypeople, while inspiring and improving the marital, familial, social, and professional dimensions of their lives. The project immediately received enthusiastic applause from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) and from the Vatican Congregation for Divine Worship, as well as much warm encouragement from Pope John Paul II. In the spirit of the liturgical movement, with its fundamental pastoral approach, Magnificat has taken the best elements of the liturgical reform laid forth at the Council, so that the divine worship expressed in the Eucharistic celebration might, through the Liturgy of the Hours, resurge and continue throughout each hour of the day for those who believe. Moreover, I wanted Magnificat to be clearly tied to the great liturgical tradition of the Church from the beginning, and I also wanted its readers to have the privilege of “praying on beauty,” as Pope Pius X phrased it. “Without beauty,” Pope Benedict XVI used to say, “nothing can be sacred.” We sought to reach this twofold end by implementing a classic design, which draws from the finest typography of the past centuries, and by integrating Christian art, which, from the very first issue, has adorned the cover and been featured in a special eight-page color insert, complete with commentary and history. After the launch of Magnificat in 1998, the magazine’s dedication to art, and to beauty in general, was quickly recognized by its readers, undoubtedly opening the way to its success. For over ten years, Sophie Mouquin, former director of studies at the prestigious École du Louvre in Paris, has managed the art commentary in the French edition of Magnificat. Month by month, her expertise as an art historian and her
9 spiritual profundity have gradually created a great sacred fresco that leads us on a journey through Tradition—at once historical, artistic, and theological. Her commentaries have recently been published in the American edition of Magnificat as well. This book takes us on a marvelous journey through salvation history, thanks not only to Sophie Mouquin, but to her sister Delphine, who is another longtime contributor to Magnificat’s art section. I leave you now to dive into this work, where you will find yourself moving from discovery to discovery. But first, allow me one last word to point out how successfully this beautiful volume evokes the memory of our fathers in the faith: artists, theologians, saints, poets, and liturgists of centuries past. In this way, it is a successful attempt to bring into our liturgical prayer not merely all the people living now on earth, but also the whole communion of those living in Paradise. Pierre-Marie Dumont, Founding publisher of MAGNIFICAT
14 12th–13th c., mosaic, Cathedral of Santa Maria Nuova, Monreale, Sicily The Creation of Man Mosaic by mosaic, the creation of the world unfolds: the waters, the light, the separation of the waters, the separation between the earth and the waters, the birds and fish, then, on the sixth day, man. Here, we are in Genesis, gorgeously rendered by master mosaicists in the nave of the cathedral of Monreale, in Sicily. This is a Genesis of gold. In fact, in this dazzling duomo, the whole of salvation history—from creation to the preaching of Peter and Paul—is illustrated in gold. At the height of Norman rule over Sicily, where Arabic, Roman, and Byzantine influences converged in a unique way, King William II covered this cathedral in mosaics as much to sing the glory of God as to compete with the Byzantine Empire. The panel on the creation of man also shows in the background the creation of the animals (on the fifth day): tame animals, crawling things, and every kind of wild animal (Gn 1:24). A lion, a lioness, a dromedary, and even an elephant—all African—mingle with more ordinary livestock, all in a dignified procession. Almost smiling, they emerge from a copse of trees at the top of a hill that makes up the panel’s right-hand side, whose color calls to mind the green plants God gives as food to all the wild animals, all the birds of the air, and all the living creatures that crawl on the earth (Gn 1:30). Thus creation is celebrated in its multiplicity, according to its kinds. “Behold, all of it comes from the hands of a single Almighty Power and responds with joy to the sound of a single creative word: Kun! ‘Be!’” (Christian de Chergé). The anonymous artist seems to be expressing such joy in the swirls and curves that interplay in the Lord’s mantle,
16 in the spheres of his halo and his throne, in the ground below him, and in the forms of the animals and plants. Man in His likeness Man, however, is alone. Made to serve as guardian of creation, he rules over the beasts in his way, but like them, he is merely a creature. In this image, man’s position and pale color are close to that of the animals, yet his size and his posture distinguish him from them. The creation of Eve is depicted in another panel within Monreale. Here, though, Adam appears in his uniqueness, alone before the Creator whose likeness he bears, echoing the divine word written along the top of the panel: Faciamus hominem ad imaginem et similitudinem nostram, “Let us make human beings in our image, after our likeness” (Gn 1:26). For we too are his offspring, explains Saint Paul to the Athenians (Acts 17:28). The mosaic manifests this descent through the remarkable symmetry between God’s gestures and Adam’s: both extend their right hands, while their left hands follow the same lines; their feet are crossed, as if in a mirror image. At the same time, though, man is naked against the earth while God is clothed and seated on a celestial sphere; his hair is shorter than the Father’s, and he is smaller in stature. Man, then, resembles God, but is somewhat different, somewhat less. Truly created to resemble him, he nevertheless depends on him. The Father’s right hand is raised to bless his the creation of man
17 adopted son, who, for his part, opens his own hand to receive the gift of life. Man bound Perhaps the most surprising element of the mosaic is the beam that links God to man, running from cheek to cheek. Could the Lord see Adam as a baby, spurring him to act like parents who raise an infant to their cheeks (Hos 11:4)? A similar ray figures in the mosaic where God accepts the sacrifice of Abel: It radiates from God’s hand to the lamb sacrificed. Here, it strikes across the entire space, manifesting the power of the bond (Latin: ligamen, likely the root of the word “religion”) between man and God. The second Latin inscription, at the top of the mosaic, reads, Et inspiravit in faciem ejus spiraculum vitae—“and blew into his nostrils the breath of life” (Gn 2:7). This phrase, taken from the second account of man’s creation, alters our understanding of the beam, which now reveals itself to be the breath of the Father. The image allows the artist to represent at once the gift of the vital spirit and the movement that animates Adam, thereby highlighting the efficacy of the active word of God. The dominant movement in the scene is not the parade of animals, but rather the motion by which man seems drawn toward his Creator. The gestures of the hands, the flexing of Adam’s torso in contrast to the Father’s verticality, the steady mutual gaze, and the oblique presence of the ray—all these irresistibly suggest that Adam is in the process of getting up and going toward the God who calls him, who creates him. If we continue this movement in our imagination, we will see Adam standing before God: always smaller, always dependent, always bound, but in a face-to-face encounter of love. He made from one the whole human race to dwell on the entire surface of the earth, and he fixed the ordered seasons and the boundaries of their regions, so that people might seek God, even perhaps grope for him and find him, though indeed he is not far from any one of us (Acts 17:26-27). Man’s divine likeness thus takes on a new meaning: Created to be like God, we are also made to resemble him more and more until the day we finally see him face to face. ◆ the creation of man
56 Bernardino di Betto, called Pinturicchio (1454–1513), c. 1500, Baglioni Chapel, Collegiate Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, Spello The Annunciation At the heart of Umbria, not far from Assisi, the tiny town of Spello houses one of the world’s most beautiful cycles of paintings on the life of the Virgin Mary and the childhood of Christ: the decor of the Baglioni Chapel, which Troilo Baglioni commissioned from Bernardino di Betto, better known as Pinturicchio, a few years before the former became bishop of Perugia. The nickname piccolo pintore, little painter, is indeed ill suited to this great artist, who here is in his prime. The grace of Mary, a garden enclosed, a fountain sealed The three walls are adorned with frescoes, a technique that Pinturicchio had mastered, as he proved at the Sistine Chapel in 1481. The Annunciation, The Adoration of the Shepherds, and The Dispute of Christ with the Doctors all display an elegance and refinement typical of the Renaissance, harmoniously weaving in architecture and nature. The scene of The Annunciation depicts the archangel Gabriel interrupting Mary during her meditation on Scripture. He comes to announce that she will conceive and bear a son, who will be the Son of God. The rigor of the composition, the understanding of perspective, the beauty and grace of the figures, architecture, and landscape, the delicate relationships between the colors—everything here bespeaks the art of the Renaissance and works together to make this fresco one of the finest examples of the scholarly humanism and ideal beauty
57 that Pietro Perugino, Pinturicchio, and later Raphael brought to a new degree of excellence. The setting bears little resemblance to Mary’s presumably modest dwelling in Nazareth. As in so many other Renaissance works, the painter chooses to set the event in the contemporary world, in order to make it more relatable to the faithful. Mary is not a simple young girl from a town in Galilee. She is an elegant young woman, in a sumptuous palace whose walls are punctuated by pillars with delicate
58 grotesques and whose floors are paved in colored marble. As she stands before a richly carved lectern that holds a book, the room opens out through a loggia to a garden, the hortus conclusus of the Song of Songs, and then to a mountain landscape crisscrossed by roads that lead to a village. The Virgin is the garden enclosed, the fountain sealed (Sg 4:12) where he blooms—the One who is the Way that leads us to the heavenly Jerusalem. The gentleness of God’s power Before the Virgin is an angel—or more precisely, an archangel, one of the creatures in the celestial hierarchy who act as a mediator between heaven and earth. Scripture informs us that this is Gabriel, whose name in Hebrew means “the strength of God.” In a homily, Saint Gregory the Great analyzes this choice of a messenger sent from God (Lk 1:26): “He came to announce the one who deigned to appear in humility to vanquish the powers of the air.... By ‘the strength of God’ was the Lord of hosts to be announced, he who came, mighty in battle, against the powers of the air.” Under Pinturicchio’s brush, Gabriel looks like a strikingly beautiful messenger, wearing a blue and ochre tunic over a green garment that matches his delicate wings. He is one of the “höchst liebenswürdige Züge” (exquisitely lovable figures) that Jacob Burckhardt recognized in the frescoes of Spello (Der Cicerone, 1855). The archangel, servant of the handmaid of the Lord, is kneeling. He presents the daughter of Zion with a lily, a symbol of purity and chastity, and he gives a blessing, visually represented by his angelic greeting, Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you (Lk 1:28).
59 The King is in suspense What an unfathomable mystery is the Incarnation! Mary is on the verge of giving her answer. There are three who await this response, who are held in suspense: the archangel; the Holy Spirit, who has emerged; and the Father, who, surrounded by his angels in heaven, hopes to receive Mary’s Yes. Behind the Virgin, to the right, Pinturicchio has placed a portrait of himself, framed and mounted above a cartouche boasting his signature. Could the artist be implying that all humanity awaits this Yes? This is what Saint Bernard of Clairvaux invites us to contemplate, as we reflect on this admirable painting. “You have heard, O Virgin, the announcement of the great mystery; the means designed for its fulfilment have been unfolded to you, each wondrous, each replete with joy. Rejoice, O daughter of Sion, and exult exceedingly, O virgin daughter of Jerusalem. And because to you has been given joy and gladness, allow us to hear from your lips the answer and the good tidings which we desire, that the bones that have been humbled may rejoice. You have heard the fact, and have believed; believe also in the means which have been explained to you. You have heard that you are to conceive and bring forth a Son, and that it will not be through the power of man, but by the virtue of the Holy Ghost. The angel awaits your reply, for it is time that he should return to God, Who sent him…. Adam, with all his race—Adam, a weeping exile from Paradise, implores it of you. Abraham entreats you, David beseeches you. This is the object of the burning desires of the holy fathers, of your fathers…. Behold the entire human race prostrate at your feet in expectation…. Hasten, then, O Lady, to give your answer; hasten to speak the word so longed for by all on earth, in limbo, and in heaven. Yea, the King and Lord of all things, who has greatly desired your beauty, desires as eagerly your word of consent, by which he has purposed to save the world. He whom you have pleased by your silence will now be more gratified by your reply” (Sermons of Saint Bernard on Advent and Christmas). ◆ the annunciation
60 Jean Jouvenet (1644–1717), 1716, oil on canvas, 170 x 173.6 in., Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris The Visitation: The Virgin of the Magnificat For four years, from 2019 to 2024, no one has been allowed to enter Notre Dame Cathedral—to walk into this magnificent sanctuary to contemplate Mary. Yet our Mother is there. Stabat Mater. Who among us does not remember the flames that engulfed the church? Though she wavered, she did not collapse. A sword pierced her vault, but the cross above the altar stood erect. “I am here, my Lady, only to look at you.” New decorations for the choir For years we could no longer go in, but we could still contemplate. We can meditate on Mary, first of all, but also on some of the innumerable masterpieces that, over the centuries, the Catholic faith has inspired in this place. How many men and women have set their talents at the feet of Mary, making Notre-Dame Cathedral an epiphany of beauty? Within this crowd of artists and craftsmen, many of them anonymous or forgotten, one man played a decisive role: Canon Antoine de La Porte (1627–1710). Who today knows the name of this French cleric? Yet he was a key figure in the history of the cathedral. It is partly to him that we owe the decoration of the church’s choir, which dates from the beginning of the 18th century. The project had been underway a long time. In 1637, to thank the Virgin for giving him a male heir, King Louis XIII ordered the construction of a new high altar. He died, however, before he could see this dream realized. Louis XIV put his father’s plan on hold for many years. Then in 1707, he charged the architect Robert de Cotte with transforming the choir. The result turned out to be far more important than Louis XIII had imagined. The rood screen was demolished, and new stalls, paintings, sculptures, and other artworks were
61 It is noon. The church is open. I must go in. Mother of our Lord, I have not come to pray. I have nothing to give and nothing to ask. I am here, my Lady, only to look at you. Paul Claudel, “The Virgin at Noon” (1914)
62 installed, including the remarkable Vœu de Louis XIII, a masterpiece by Nicolas Coustou, Guillaume Coustou, and Antoine Coysevox, which would not be finished until 1723. In 1709, running parallel to this remodeling of the choir, Antoine de La Porte commissioned the greatest painters of his time to complete a series of eight images on the life of the Blessed Virgin. Still in process when La Porte died in 1710, the cycle would be completed in 1717. The song of a paralytic Of the eight paintings procured by Canon La Porte, only the Visitation by Jean Jouvenet is still on display for the meditation of the faithful. Three disappeared during the French Revolution, and four are in the collection of the Louvre. Returned to the cathedral shortly after the Second World War, in 1947, The Visitation is the fruit of one man’s generosity and a precious vestige of a far more ambitious series. It is also the moving testimony of a seventy-two-yearold painter with a paralyzed right hand. Forty-three years earlier, in an irony of history, Jean Jouvenet had executed a “May” for the cathedral—a tradition wherein a new artwork is commissioned by the goldsmiths’ corporation and given to the cathedral every May—on Christ’s healing of the paralytic. The artist was never healed, but he signed The Visitation on one of the stone steps in the foreground: “J. Jouvenet. Dextra paralyticus. Sinistra pinxit.” (“J. Jouvenet, paralyzed in his right hand, painted this image with his left hand.”) It took a painter as skilled as Jouvenet to create such a masterful composition, which does not show a trace of hesitation. Faithful to his style, he generates a canvas consistent with the “grand taste” of his master Charles Le Brun, whom Louis XIV greatly admired. His debt to the decorative style at Versailles is evident, especially in the Descent of the Holy Spirit, which he painted for the palace chapel in 1709. The Visitation is enormous and theatrical, with the Virgin and her cousin Elizabeth at center stage, but it still manages to be almost intimate. To the left, the artist paints himself and Canon La Porte as part of the scene, without much concern for physical realism. Finished a year before his death, this canvas feels like the swan song of one of Louis XIV’s finest artists, whom Antoine Schnapper called “the painter of a religion in which God becomes man.” The Magnificat Beyond the artwork’s formal beauty, its consummate understanding of composition, its grand lyrical language, and its stunning chromatic relations, what is particularly striking here is the artist’s choice of iconography. Among all the portrayals of the Visitation, Journet’s stands out as profoundly original. It does not merely illustrate Mary
63 and Elizabeth’s encounter and point, through the leaping of the child in Elizabeth’s womb, to the coming birth of Jesus. Rather, it depicts the Magnificat, Mary’s phenomenal song of exultation that, in this painting, seems to be accompanied by the angels. As Saint Ambrose once wrote, “May Mary’s soul be in each one to magnify the Lord, may Mary’s spirit be in each one to rejoice in God; if, according to the flesh, the Mother of Christ is one alone, according to the faith all souls bring forth Christ; each, in fact, welcomes the Word of God within.... Mary’s soul magnifies the Lord and her spirit rejoices in God because, consecrated in soul and spirit to the Father and to the Son, she adores with devout affection one God, from whom come all things, and only one Lord, by virtue of whom all things exist.” Commenting on this passage, Pope Benedict XVI explains: “Interpreting Our Lady’s very words, the Holy Doctor invites us to ensure that the Lord can find a dwelling place in our own souls and lives. Not only must we carry him in our hearts, but we must bring him to the world, so that we too can bring forth Christ for our epoch.” Let us sing this Magnificat with Mary and contemplate our Mother, in order to better bring Christ into the world. ◆ To look at you, to cry for joy, to know That I am your son and you are there. Only for one moment when everything stops. Noon! To be with you, Mary, in this place where you are. To say nothing, to look at your face, To let my heart sing in its own language, To say nothing, but simply to sing because my heart is too full, Like the blackbird which repeats its idea in that species of swift couplets. Paul Claudel, “The Virgin at Noon” (1914) the visitation: the virgin of the magnificat
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