Adoration of the Magi – Art & Theology

Day Trip to Würzburg, Part 4: Museum für Franken

October 30, 2026October 30, 2026 Victoria Emily JonesLeave a comment

This is the final post in my series on religious art highlights from Würzburg, Germany, which I visited on August 28. (See parts 1, 2, and 3.) It took me about fifty-two hours to organize, select, research, write, edit, and format all the content. If you enjoyed the series, would you please consider making a small donation toward this work so that I can avoid setting up paywalls? Thank you! Oh, and since some of you have asked: I offer all my high-resolution photos free of charge for noncommercial use; I just don’t allow reblogging (that is, reproducing these posts in full on a different website).

View from the Alte Mainbrücke (Old Main Bridge), with Festung Marienberg (Marienberg Fortress) in the distance

It was afternoon, and Eric and I had a few more hours left in Würzburg. Thankfully, the rain let up, so after a quick lunch of bratwurst, we trekked over the Old Main Bridge up to Marienberg Fortress. It was about a twenty-minute walk up the stepped Tellsteige to the entrance—quite strenuous for this out-of-shape traveler, and in retrospect, I should have taken the bus, which runs to the top via a different route, but at least I was rewarded with some lovely panoramic views of the city along the way.

Würzburg cityscape — View from the inclined walkway to the Museum für Franken. The red-spired Marienkapelle is on the left, Würzburg Cathedral (with its twin, bannered west towers) is on the right, and just right of center is the gray dome of Neumünster.

Serving as residence of the local prince-bishops from the thirteenth to eighteenth centuries, Marienberg Fortress now houses a collection of Franconian art from the Middle Ages to the Baroque era in its Museum für Franken (labeled “Lower Franconian Museum” in Google Maps and formerly called the Mainfränkisches Museum). Admission is five euros.

The sculptures of the German late Gothic artist Tilman Riemenschneider (ca. 1460–1531), who lived in Würzburg, are the main attraction of the museum, which owns eighty of them—the largest number of any institution. Riemenschneider was an absolute master of his craft, working in both wood and stone. Made to adorn buildings, his stone sculptures were conceived for particular architectural contexts, whereas most of his wood carvings were made for winged altarpieces. His smaller sculptures, by contrast, were intended for private ownership and worship.

In addition to being an artist, Riemenschneider was involved in local politics, serving on the Würzburg town council. During the German Peasants’ War in 1525, he refused to obey an order by Prince-Bishop Konrad von Thüngen to fight the revolting peasants, as he sympathized with their cause. As a result, most of his property was confiscated and he was incarcerated and tortured in Marienberg Fortress for two months. He received very little work for the remaining six years of his life.

The first work of his that I encountered at the Museum für Franken was an Anna Selbdritt, Middle High German for “Anne herself making a third”—an iconographic type that arose in Germany in the early thirteenth century and gained massive popularity throughout the Rhine-Meuse region in the next few centuries. Emphasizing the human lineage of Jesus, it shows three generations seated together: the matronly St. Anne (the name tradition ascribes to Mary’s mother), with her head and neck typically covered; a diminutive Mary, her hair uncovered to signify her virginal status, and often holding a book, signifying her learning and devoutness; and, toddling on his grandmother’s knee, the infant Christ.

Tilman Riemenschneider_Anna Selbdritt — Tilman Riemenschneider and workshop, *Anna Selbdritt*, ca. 1500. Limewood, traces of polychromy.

Here’s another:

A related subject, the Holy Kinship, showing even more of Jesus’s relatives gathered round, is also featured in the museum’s collection, such as in this fragment sculpted by an anonymous artist influenced by Riemenschneider, which shows Mary and Joseph on the left, and Anne and Joachim (Mary’s parents) on the right. The Christ child whom the young Mary used to hold on her lap is missing, as is the book that Anne once held:

Tilman Riemenschneider (circle)_Holy Kinship — Circle of Tilman Riemenschneider, *Parts of a Holy Kinship*, ca. 1505. Limewood, painted.

Jesus’s grandparents are never mentioned in scripture, so I admit, I had never even thought about them until I started seeing them depicted in Holy Kinship groups, and Anne in other contexts. It makes me wonder about how Mary’s mother raised her, and how that shaped the woman she became and how she then mothered Jesus. What lessons of faith did Mary learn from Anne? How did Anne react to the news of Mary being pregnant with the Messiah? What about Joachim? In what ways did Grandma and Grandpa spoil little Jesus? Of course Jesus was part of a larger family unit—extended family was very important in the ancient Near East—but without artists to turn my imagination toward that detail, I had neglected to consider it!

Beside the Anna Selbdritt sculpture is another by Riemenschneider, showing St. Stephen, who can be identified by the stack of stones on his knee. (In art, martyrs are often portrayed holding the instruments of their death.)

Tilman Riemenschneider_Saint Stephen — Tilman Riemenschneider and workshop, *Saint Stephen*, ca. 1520. Limewood, originally painted.

Here’s a handful of other works by Riemenschneider or his circle, from the permanent collection of the Museum für Franken or on long-term loan to them.

Tilman Riemenschneider_Adam — Tilman Riemenschneider, *Adam*, 1492–93. Gray sandstone. Former location: Würzburg Marienkapelle, left side of south portal.

Tilman Riemenschneider_Eve — Tilman Riemenschneider, *Eve*, 1492–93. Gray sandstone. Former location: Würzburg Marienkapelle, right side of south portal.

Tilman Riemenschneider_John the Baptist — Tilman Riemenschneider and workshop, *John the Baptist*, 1500–1506. Gray sandstone. Former location: Würzburg Marienkapelle, buttress to the right of the south portal.

Tilman Riemenschneider (circle)_Madonna and Child — Circle of Tilman Riemenschneider, *Madonna and Child on a Crescent Moon*, ca. 1515. Limewood, originally painted.

Tilman Riemenschneider_Crucifix — Tilman Riemenschneider, *Crucifix*, ca. 1500. Limewood, originally painted.

*Head of Christ*, plaster cast by Andreas Halbig, ca. 1850–60, after an original by Tilman Riemenschneider, 1497 (destroyed 1945)

Tilman Riemenschneider_Mourning Women — Tilman Riemenschneider, *Mourning Women* (fragment from a Lamentation group), ca. 1510. Limewood, originally painted.

Tilman Riemenschneider_Mourning Mary — Tilman Riemenschneider, *Mourning Mary*, from a Crucifixion group, ca. 1505. Limewood, originally painted. (The second layer of paint visible today follows the original color scheme.) Former location: Private house in Acholshausen near Ochsenfurt, original location unknown.

Tilman Riemenschneider_Pieta — Tilman Riemenschneider and workshop, *Vesperbild* (Pietà), ca. 1510. Limewood, originally painted.

And the remaining works below are by miscellaneous other artists from Franconia.

One high-relief wood carving shows the Adoration of the Magi. Look at Balthasar’s feathery headdress!

Another wood sculpture portrays the story from Luke 7:36–50, about the unnamed “sinful woman” anointing the feet of Jesus at the house of Simon the Pharisee, who was hosting a meal. Jesus commends the woman’s act of gratitude, costly love, and hospitality, much to Simon’s consternation. Throughout much of church history, this woman was identified as Mary Magdalene—a view almost all present-day biblical scholars reject. But I use the title the museum provides.

*Christ and Mary Magdalene at the House of Simon the Pharisee*, Franconia, ca. 1510

One of the most moving sculptures I saw shows Mary cradling her dead son in her lap, a devotional image type known in German as the Vesperbild (literally “evening picture”). This image type originated in Germany in the early 1300s, spreading throughout Europe, including, around 1400, Italy, where it took on the name Pietà, Italian for “pity” or “compassion.”

Another image type that originated in Germany is the Gnadenstuhl, variously translated as “Mercy Seat” or “Throne of Grace.” It depicts God the Father holding his crucified Son, with the Holy Spirit as dove in the middle—all three persons of the Trinity.

I plan to write a fully developed article on the Gnadenstuhl sometime in the future, as I’m fascinated by its theological implications, which, as I interpret it (and this is clearer in some versions than in others), run counter to a theology of Jesus’s God-forsakenness on the cross. What if, instead of conceptualizing the Crucifixion as an event in which the Father turned his face away from Christ, we saw the Father as with Christ, supporting and sustaining him, and suffering too? What if we saw the Crucifixion not as a temporary break in God’s triunity, the Father severing fellowship with the Son, the punisher versus the punished, but rather Christ on the cross as the object of the Father’s loving gaze, as he always had been? I have much more thinking and reading and consultation to do on this, as I want to be careful with my words. So for now I’ll share just this one example, and defer further theological discussion until another time.

This stone relief was originally located in the Bürgerspital zum Heiligen Geist (Citizens’ Hospital of the Holy Spirit) in Würzburg, founded in the early fourteenth century by Johann von Steren to provide shelter for the poor and treatment for the sick. Johann also endowed the hospital with vineyards that are maintained to this day, as is a public foundation, which operates senior citizens’ homes and a geriatric rehabilitation clinic. The founder is shown at the bottom left opposite his wife, Megardlis von Steren, their family coat of arms between them. On the middle level, flanking the cross, are Mary and the camel-hair-clad John the Baptist, interceding.

Here’s a (German-language) video the museum made about this Gnadenstuhl:

If you’ve been following my blog since Lent, you’ll recognize this next guy. It’s a Palmesel, literally “Palm Donkey,” mounted by a Christ figure, representing Christ’s entry into Jerusalem the week of his death. It’s not known which German town it comes from, but it would have been wheeled through that town’s streets on Palm Sundays.

(See “The Palmesel (‘Palm Donkey’): A Holy Week Tradition from Medieval Germany.”)

The Museum für Franken majors in sculpture, minors in painting. One pair of paintings I really like is from an early sixteenth-century altarpiece depicting the Nativity and the Adoration of the Magi. On the left, I love how the little angel supports the head of Christ so that it’s not lying on the hard ground; he kneels, gently lifts, places on his lap.

Nativity and Adoration of the Magi — *Nativity* and *Adoration of the Magi*, Franconia, ca. 1510. Wooden panel paintings, originally part of a winged altarpiece.

And lastly, another pair of altarpiece wings—depicting St. Margaret and St. Apollonia. The rest of the altarpiece was destroyed in 1945.

Margaret was an early fourth-century Christian martyr from Antioch of Pisidia. Her hagiography is pretty wild. The most famous legend associated with her is that, when she was in prison for refusing to renounce Christianity, she prayed that God would show her the enemy who was fighting her. Satan then appeared in the form of a dragon and swallowed her whole. But when she made the sign of the cross inside him, his belly burst open, and she escaped unscathed. She is traditionally shown holding a cross staff and standing atop or ripping through a dragon, imaging the triumph of good over evil.

St. Apollonia — Brother Martinus Schwarz, *Saint Apollonia* (altar wing), ca. 1485. Mixed media on softwood. Probably from a chapel in Rothenburg ob der Tauber.

Apollonia was a second-century Christian martyr from Alexandria whose torture included having all her teeth pulled out or shattered. That’s why she’s traditionally shown holding a set of pliers with a tooth in their grip. Here she also holds a claw hammer!

These two paintings are by Brother Martinus Schwarz, the guardian (superior) of the Franciscan monastery in Rothenburg ob der Tauber. On several occasions, he was enlisted by Riemenschneider to paint his sculptures.

I hope you enjoyed this little four-part travelogue. I received an earlier request to share more from my art-related travels (on average, I take an international trip every other year, and it always includes art!), including itineraries, and/or recommendations for religious art destinations. Any itinerary would need to take into account how long you have, who you’re traveling with, what your (and your traveling companions’) other interests are, and your budget. I have more stamina than most when it comes to structuring a day out in the city; others prefer a more leisurely pace, or have to adapt to the needs of young kids. In nine days, I toured Frankfurt, Würzburg, Rothenburg, Nuremburg, Munich, and (just over the border in Austria) Salzburg. The trip would have looked different if I were traveling with friends or parents or children.

If you’re interested in traveling to southern Germany and focusing on religious art, hit me up by email, and I’d be happy to share a list of the museums and churches I visited, and what I thought was worth it versus not.

If you’ve been to that region, or live there, feel free to share some of your favorite places or artworks in the Comment field below.

Day Trip to Würzburg, Part 3: St. Kilian’s Cathedral

October 27, 2026October 27, 2026 Victoria Emily Jones3 Comments

All photos in this post are my own.

In the Bavarian city of Würzburg, after visiting the Marienkapelle (part 1) and Neumünster (part 2), my husband Eric and I stepped over to the adjacent St. Kilian’s Cathedral, also referred to simply as Würzburg Cathedral (or Würzburger Dom in German).

Its namesake, Kilian, was a seventh-century Irish missionary bishop to the Germanic tribes of Franconia who was beheaded by Duchess Geilana after he denounced her marriage to Duke Gozbert, her late husband’s brother.

Because the cathedral tours are given only in German, I couldn’t take advantage, but the front desk helpfully offers a free brochure, available in multiple languages, that provides a brief construction history timeline, a map, and a partial list of artworks. I had no idea—though, given the heavy damage Würzburg sustained in World War II, I should have guessed—there would be so many modern and contemporary artworks inside!

The present cathedral, with its Romanesque cruciform layout, was built starting in 1042 and was consecrated in 1187. It underwent subsequent remodels (late Gothic, then Baroque) and then a major reconstruction following the collapse of its nave in a 1945 air raid, reopening in 1967.

The following is by no means a comprehensive accounting of the art inside, but rather a selection of works that stood out to me. You may notice my general disinterest in relics, tombs, and Baroque ornamentation.

I regret I didn’t get a photo of the bronze door designed by sculptor Fritz Koenig in 1964–67 for the main, west portal, featuring creation motifs! When church doors are propped open, they’re easy to miss.

The narthex of Würzburg Cathedral displays two neo-expressionist paintings of the Pietà by Peter Vogt, an artist associated with the southern German Neue Wilde movement of the late 1970s and ’80s.

Peter Vogt_Pieta — Peter Vogt (German, 1944–2013), *Pietà*, 1986, to your right when you enter Würzburg Cathedral

To your left when you enter, there’s a medieval sculpture group depicting the Dormition (the “falling sleep,” or death, of Mary) underneath an untitled contemporary painting by Marco Tirelli, a key member of the San Lorenzo School of painting and sculpture that formed in Rome in the 1980s. Tirelli is known for a “minimalist, atmospheric style . . . characterised by the use of geometric shapes, monochrome surfaces and subtle plays of light and shadow . . . often evok[ing] a sense of mystery and contemplation, inviting the viewer to reflect on the nature of perception and space.” His painting in Würzburg Cathedral shows some kind of linear object balancing on a pedestal. Created specifically for this location, it could suggest a body in repose.

Dormition (detail) — John the Evangelist mourning the death of Mary

Behind this wall is a semienclosed space designated for private prayer. According to an on-site sign, in the days following the destruction of Würzburg in 1945, the dead were gathered at this spot, where relatives would come to say their final goodbyes before burial. Appropriately, then, the focal point is a late Gothic wood sculpture of the Pietà, where Mary mourns the death of her son. These figures are seated atop a raised metal throne connected to a multitiered votive candle stand that shines with the prayers of the faithful.

Pieta with golden wall plate — *Pietà*, ca. 1410; golden wall plate by Jürgen Lenssen, 2012

The sculpture is foregrounded by a gilded wall panel designed by Dr. Jürgen Lenssen, who, in addition to serving as cathedral canon, was the art director for the Diocese of Würzburg from 1992 until his retirement in 2017. The wall plates in this space were part of the interior redesign carried out in 2011–12. I really like Lenssen’s interventions, which we will see more of in the crypt—highlighting historic works of art by adding dramatic backing, visual framing, and/or platforms.

Opposite the Pietà is a Russian icon of the Virgin Eleusa (Virgin of Tenderness), showing Mary affectionately holding the Christ child, who nestles into her cheek. It, too, is enhanced by a gold-leafed wall plate, one that frames it and extends the length of the row of chairs below, creating a sort of frieze.

Virgin of Tenderness icon — *Virgin of Tenderness*, Russian icon, 19th century; golden wall plate by Jürgen Lenssen, 2012

In art objects and sacred spaces, Pietà images are often juxtaposed with images of the Virgin and Child, as the very natural mother-infant pose gains additional poignancy when placed in conversation with the horrifically unnatural pose of a mother cradling her dead child.

Also in this prayer room is a cross made of three medieval roof-truss nails salvaged from the rubble of Coventry Cathedral in England, destroyed by German bombs on November 14, 1940. It is set into a remnant of a gravestone from Würzburg Cathedral.

The original Cross of Nails was made by Rev. Arthur Philip Wales of Coventry the morning after the Coventry Blitz, the nails bound together with wire. In the postwar years, following Wales’s concept, other recovered nails and roof spikes were welded together, plated with silver, and sent as a gift to cities in Germany that also suffered badly from World War II bombings—at the hands of the British—a gesture of reconciliation.

There are now nearly three hundred churches and organizations worldwide that own a Cross of Nails, either made with authentic hand-forged nails from the ruins of Coventry Cathedral or a replica, together forming a network dedicated to global peace and forgiveness. The Cross of Nails in Würzburg Cathedral is a replica, presented to the cathedral in 2015. (Two others, from 2001, are permanently housed in the city’s town hall and Marienkapelle, and a third travels to a new host location in the city each year.)

In the north (that is, left) aisle is a Crucifixion painting by Mimmo Paladino, a leading figure of the Transavanguardia (Transavantgarde) movement that swept through Italy in the late 1970s and ’80s, reviving figurative art.

Mimmo Paladino_Crucifixion — Mimmo Paladino (Italian, 1948–), *Crucifixion*, 2012

Executed in pale grays and yellows, this work portrays the crucified Christ without a cross, although he’s tied down near the elbows. He’s shadowy but appears bruised and scarred, his eyes half closed as he expires. In the background are pinned pages of thorny vines, disembodied parts (hands, feet, a face, a heart), and indistinguishable forms. This Crucifixion is similar to another one of Paladino’s, a triptych from 2010.

The painting projects out from the wall and appears to be the front face of a storage closet or a confessional—I couldn’t tell.

At the entrance to the nave, in the central aisle, is a monumental bronze menorah designed by the German metalsmith Andreas Moritz. It was commissioned to honor the Jewish roots of the Christian faith. “It reminds us that God planted the Torah like a tree of life for humankind,” Fr. Burkhard Hose said in a Lenten sermon at the cathedral in 2007. It was not lit when I was there—I wonder when or even if it ever is.

Andreas Moritz_Menorah — Andreas Moritz (German, 1901–1983), *Menorah*, 1981

On the north side of the nave, the nations come to Christ in a medieval Adoration of the Magi sculpture group that’s distributed across three pillars. Cathedral guide Rüdiger Seyler told me in an email, in response to my inquiry, that they were carved around 1300 in Germany and demonstrate French influence.

Across from Mary, Christ, and the eldest magus, in the center of the nave, is a bronze baptismal font made by Master Eckard of Worms in 1279. One of the cathedral’s most celebrated medieval treasures, it features eight scenes from the life of Christ, rendered in intricate relief.

Baptismal font by Master Eckard of Worms, 1279

Pentecost — The Descent of the Holy Spirit

In the south (that is, right) aisle are two detached frescoes from the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. One shows Mary and John the Evangelist as intercessors. On a smaller scale beside them are two donors (the one on the right is rubbed out) holding scrolls with Latin inscriptions appealing to Christ. “O fili dei miserere mei” (O Son of God, have mercy on me), the woman prays. “Miserere mei deus,” the man similarly beseeches.

Christ with saints — *St. Catherine of Alexandria, the Virgin Mary, Christ as Man of Sorrows, and ?*, ca. 1380

There’s also a modern wood door depicting, in low relief, the Lamb of God in a cityscape in the top right corner (the cathedral guide says it’s the heavenly Jerusalem, but I wonder if it could be Nineveh), and in the lower left, the prophet Jonah being disgorged from the mouth of the whale.

Karl Schneider (German, 1911–1970), *Jonah*, 1967

Near the transept, to the left, is a wood sculpture of the Virgin and Child from the workshop of Tilman Riemenschneider. Mary is crowned and stepping on a crescent moon, associating her with the Woman of the Apocalypse in Revelation 12.

Tilman Riemenschneider_Virgin and Child — Workshop of Tilman Riemenschneider, *Virgin and Child*, ca. 1515, on a stele by Jürgen Lenssen, 2012

To the left of the high altar is a modern tabernacle, a fixed, locked receptacle in which consecrated hosts left over from the Eucharist are reserved. For me, the stone casing evokes the pillar of fire from the Old Testament, a symbol of God’s presence among his people.

Tabernacle by Albert Schilling, 1964–67 — Albert Schilling (Swiss, 1904–1987), *Tabernacle*, 1964–67

At the east end of the cathedral, the chancel area, designed by Hubert Elsässer in 1987–88, combines Baroque and modern elements in a representation of the New Jerusalem. It is anchored by a prominent stele by Elsässer that pictures the risen Christ in the middle of a gilded circle, its bottom circumference hugged by the tree of life. He is surrounded by angels and the twenty-four elders, and below him is the apocalyptic Lamb of God standing, “as if it had been slaughtered” (Rev. 5:6), before the twelve gates to the city, each bearing a giant pearl.

On the walls of the chancel are several trios of Frankish faith witnesses from the seventh to twentieth centuries, sculpted by Hubert Elsässer, Willi Grimm, Tilmar Hornung, Ernst Singer, and Lothar Forster. One group on the left depicts Sister Maria Julitta Ritz (1882–1966), a German Catholic nun, teacher, mystic, and spiritual adviser belonging to the Congregation of the Sisters of the Divine Redeemer in Würzburg; Blessed Marcel Callo (1921–1945), a French Catholic member of the Young Christian Workers who was deported to Germany in 1943 and died two years later in the Mauthausen concentration camp; and Sister Antonia Werr (1813–1868), founder of the Holy Childhood Sisters in Oberzell and a pioneer of the reintegration of women released from prison.

Witnesses in the New Jerusalem — Three witnesses in the New Jerusalem: Sr. Maria Julitta Ritz, CSR; Bl. Marcel Callo; Sr. Antonia Werr, OSF

Elsässer also carved the stone, lute-shaped Altar of Mary in the north transept, which centers, in the “soundboard,” a medieval sculpture of the Virgin and Child. What an evocative combination! Conceptually, it reminds me of a charming little quatrain by the seventeenth-century German Christian mystic Angelus Silesius:

Ein Herze das zu Grund
Gott still ist, wie er will,
Wird gern von ihm berührt—
Es ist sein Lautenspiel.

In other words, a heart that is still and hushed readily welcomes the touch of God, like a lute that invites music making. Once God touches the heart, it sings.

Hubert Elsässer (German, 1934–2009), *Altar of Mary*, 1967, with *Virgin and Child*, ca. 1420

The Indian mystic Kabir, who didn’t belong to a particular religious tradition, wrote something similar in the fourteenth century:

My friend, this body is His lute. He tightens the strings and plays its songs.

If the strings break and the pegs work loose, this lute, made of dust, returns to dust.

Kabir says: Nobody else can wake from it that heavenly music.

(trans. Stephen Mitchell, The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry)

In the equivalent spot in the south transept is the Apostle Altar by Helmut Weber, a thick, vertical stone framework that houses, cave-like, late medieval sculptures by Tilman Riemenschneider depicting Christ holding an orb that represents the world, Andrew holding a fragment of the X-shaped cross he was martyred on, and Peter holding a key (a reference to Matt. 16:19).

Helmut Weber (German, 1924–2012), *Apostle Altar*, 1966–67, with sculptures of Christ as Salvator Mundi, St. Andrew, and St. Peter by Tilman Riemenschneider, 1502–6

Unfortunately, there is an extension off the south transept that I missed: the Sepulture, a Gothic burial hall. (The door was closed, and I didn’t realize it could be opened; or perhaps the space was temporarily closed to visitors.) It contains, most notably, a 1956 stained glass cycle by Georg Meistermann depicting the seasons and holidays of the church year.

But back to the main body of the cathedral. Overhead, running down the length of the church, is a modern ceiling painting by Franz Nagel depicting the apocalyptic throne chariot vision that the prophet Ezekiel saw while living in exile in Babylon. The vision features bizarre cosmic imagery—wind and fire, a wheeled throne of God, four-faced hybrid creatures with wings, flashes of lightning, a shining crystal dome, eyes all over.

Franz Nagel (German, 1907–1976), *Vision of Ezekiel*, 1965–66, ceiling painting. Upper clerestory windows by Ludwig Schaffrath (German, 1924–2011), 1965.

Nagel also created the eighteen stained glass windows along the two side aisles, the cathedral guide told me—in a similarly abstract style.

Heading out to cloister, I passed through a bronze door by Heinrich Söller depicting the parable of the wise and foolish virgins.

Heinrich Söller_Wise and Foolish Virgins — Heinrich Söller (German, 1903–1997), *The Wise and Foolish Virgins*, 1967

The cloister contains several contemporary sculptures, including a bronze by Maria Lehnen.

Maria Lehnen_Dissolution — Maria Lehnen (German, 1949–2025), *In Auflösung* (Dissolution), 2005

Many of Lehnen’s works depict a human figure tightly bound in linen, rope, or bandages but in a state of growth and becoming, alluding to the often arduous process of transformation. Dissolution is no different. It shows the old self inside a cocoon, breaking down to make way for the new. The man lifts his eyes to the hills, whence cometh his help, his life. (I’ve seen photos of a similar sculpture by Lehnen from 2004, Großer Sitzender [Large Seated Man], aka Der Gefesselte [The Bound Man], seated on the steps outside the cathedral, but it wasn’t there when I was.)

Another striking work in the cloister is Andreas Kuhnlein’s oakwood Risen Christ.

Andreas Kuhnlein (German, 1953–), *Auferstandener* (Risen Christ), 2013–14

Kuhnlein uses a chainsaw to create rugged, life-size, figurative sculptures from uprooted, decaying trees, bringing the dead trunks to “life” by highlighting the protrusions, cuts, fractures, or grain patterns in the hardwood. At the blessing ceremony for the redesigned cloister in 2014, Bishop Dr. Friedhelm Hofmann said that the rough-hewn Risen Christ, bearing scorch marks from Kuhnlein’s aggressive motorized slicing, reminds him of the burning bush in which God revealed himself to Moses.

In the center of the courtyard (which, from what I could tell, does not admit entry) is a trio of biomorphic forms in Corten steel.

Herbert Mehler_Kavex — Herbert Mehler (German, 1949–), *Kavex*, 2006

The final section of the cathedral that I visited was the crypt below, divided into four rooms. In one side room there’s a small, square bronze relief of the Trinity, elevated in a simple, black wooden structure: the Father represented as a benevolent hand reaching down from the heavens; the Son as the incarnate Word, the infant Christ, seated in the lap of the woman who bore him into the world, and from whom he took his flesh; and the Holy Spirit as a dove.

Albert Schilling_Our Lady of the Trinity — Albert Schilling (Swiss, 1904–1987), *Notre Dame de la Trinité* (Our Lady of the Trinity), 1957. Housing by Jürgen Lenssen, 2012.

Against the wall are three large gestural paintings—inks on canvas—by Jacques Gassmann, on the theme of resurrection. In each, a pillar of light bursts up out of the ground, pushing aside the darkness.

Jacques Gassmann_Resurrection — Jacques Gassmann (German, 1963–), *Resurrection*, 2012

The other side room contains a set of Stations of the Cross paintings by Karl Clobes, plus a double-sided stand cross and a Picasso-esque wooden column carved with the likeness of Christ as the Man of Sorrows.

Friedrich Press_Man of Sorrows — Friedrich Press (German, 1904–1990), *Schmerzensmann* (Man of Sorrows), 1970

In a niche just outside is another Man of Sorrows sculpture by the same artist, this one in steel. Christ’s form is abstract and distorted. He bows his head, pierced by enormous thorns, at an impossible angle.

Friedrich Press_The Crown — Friedrich Press (German, 1904–1990), *Die Krone* (The Crown), 1984

The western crypt contains the oldest artwork in the cathedral: a stone cross with a head of Christ in the center, wearing, the brochure interprets, a faint smile. It was previously supposed to be Merovingian or Carolingian, but more recent studies date it later to around the year 1000, making it Ottonian.

Ottonian cross — Stone cross with softly smiling Christ, Ottonian, ca. 1000

Niches at the left and right entrance of this chapel combine old and new. At the left, a stylized, gold-plated cross by Jürgen Lenssen, contemporary but resembling a pre-Columbian artifact, sits atop a Romanesque stele preserved from the prebombed cathedral. And at the right, a sixteenth-century Italian Madonna and Child are perched on the top tier of a distinctively modern stele, also by Lenssen.

Madonna and Child — *Virgin and Child*, Italy, 16th century, with stele by Jürgen Lenssen, 2012

At one point while Eric and I were wandering about the cathedral, people were taking seats in the pews, and a man came out and gave some remarks in German. He was dressed nicely but not in liturgical vestments, so I figured it wasn’t a Mass. Since it was pouring rain outside, I was in no rush to reach my final Würzburg destination, so I decided to take a seat as well. When the speaker sat down, sonorous musical tones started issuing forth from the loft behind me. It turns out we were being treated to a lovely fifteen-minute organ concert. Here’s a snippet:

The Museum am Dom (Cathedral Museum) next door was closed for renovations when I was in Würzburg; it will reopen in summer 2028. The Domschatz (Cathedral Treasury), located inside the cathedral, was also closed to individuals, which was a shame.

Even so, Würzburg Cathedral offers many sights worth seeing—and at no cost! Having seen a photo only of the high altar prior to visiting, I was pleasantly surprised by the great variety of works inside.

Day Trip to Würzburg, Part 1: Marienkapelle

October 13, 2026October 30, 2026 Victoria Emily Jones12 Comments

All photos in this post are my own.

Late this August, my husband and I flew to Frankfurt, Germany, and from there traveled south, spending nine days in the state of Bavaria. I built our itinerary mainly around religious art I’d been wanting to see, an interest my husband indulges and even appreciates (just not to the same degree I do!).

Bavaria is most associated with the Baroque and Rococo art and architectural styles, which are not styles I gravitate to. I was on the lookout for medieval treasures mostly, but with an openness to surprises.

I planned for us to stop in the city of Würzburg en route from Frankfurt to Rothenburg ob der Tauber because I wanted to see a unique fifteenth-century tympanum relief in the north portal of the Roman Catholic Marienkapelle (pronounced ma-REE-en-kah-PEL-lay), or St. Mary’s Chapel, depicting one of my favorite Gospel stories. More on that below.

Situated in the town’s Marktplatz (market square), the Marienkapelle is a late Gothic place of worship built in the late fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. It was heavily damaged by an Allied bombing raid on March 16, 1945—the same raid that, in less than twenty minutes, destroyed 90 percent of the historic city and killed an estimated five thousand people—and was rebuilt and restored in 1948–61.

Various little “swallow shops,” selling gifts and pastries, are built into the exterior base and buttresses.

Because of the building’s size and central location, the Marienkapelle is often mistaken for Würzburg’s cathedral, but it is not: A cathedral is the official seat of a diocesan bishop, and that’s St. Kilian’s, a five-minute walk away. In fact, the Marienkapelle is not even technically a church, according to canon law, because it does not have its own independent parish. It’s legally classified as a “chapel.” However, it is a church in the loose sense of the word, as it hosts regular worship services, administered by the united parishes of St. Kilian’s and Neumünster, which we’ll visit in separate posts.

Thankfully, although the Royal Air Force incendiaries destroyed the timber-framed interior of the Marienkapelle, the heavy masonry portals and recessed entryways largely protected the medieval relief carvings on the exterior.

The tympanum of the main, west portal, through which you enter the chapel, portrays the Last Judgment. Jesus Christ is seated on a rainbow throne, being crowned by an angel. Drawing on Revelation 1:16 and 19:15, two swords protrude from his mouth, the one on his right a (likely mistaken) departure from traditional iconography, which has a lily instead, symbolizing mercy, which acts alongside his justice.

Last Judgment, west portal, Marienkapelle

He is flanked by angels carrying instruments of his passion—a cross, a column and whip—and two others blowing trumpets, which wakes the dead from their graves. Mother Mary and John the Baptist intercede for those rising to judgment.

On Christ’s right (our left) are the blessed, and on his left (our right) are the damned, being dragged by a hairy devil into a gaping hellmouth. Among the latter group are kings, knights, and bishops, showing that wealth and institutional status earn you no favors with God, and that outward acts of piety or noble deeds count for nothing if they proceed out of an impure heart.

I love the detail at the bottom of people’s skeletons taking on flesh as they push aside the lids of their coffins! This is the general resurrection, the promised reuniting of body and soul prefigured in Ezekiel 37.

On the trumeau (central pillar) of the west portal stands a copy of a stone Madonna and Child from around 1441; the original is located inside the chapel. The Christ child holds an apple.

Copy: Virgin and Child, ca. 1441, from the west portal of the Marienkapelle

Another entrance to the church is on the south side.

The south tympanum portrays the Coronation of Mary, an extrabiblical subject that grew out of the belief that if Jesus is the King of kings, Mary is the queen mother. To either side of them are St. Barbara, holding a chalice, and St. Catherine of Alexandria, holding the breaking wheel on which she was sentenced to be executed.

The most striking feature of the south portal is the Adam and Eve sculpture pair by the preeminent German sculptor Tilman Riemenschneider (ca. 1460–1531). Exquisite! Carved in gray sandstone, they are actually copies (all the freestanding sculptures on the exterior are); the originals, from 1493, are in the Museum für Franken, also in Würzburg—which I’ll share about in part 4. Adam and Eve stand on plinths decorated with foliage, sheltered under tabernacles (tower-like crowning structures).

In addition to these, Riemenschneider and his workshop supplied sculptures of the twelve apostles for the buttresses, and of Christ and John the Baptist, who are situated above Adam and Eve. Christ, as Salvator Mundi, holds a globe, and John the Baptist holds a lamb, a symbol of the self-sacrificial Christ, who takes away the sin of the world.

But now, what I consider the most thrilling artwork at the Marienkapelle, immensely amusing, is the Annunciation tympanum in the north portal, carved around 1430.

It’s in the least prominent of all three portals, tucked away off the main square, next to, when I was there, a fence banner advertising a local wine festival. No one was stopping to look at it.

View from the west portal — View from the north portal

Annunciation, north portal, Marienkapelle

But I knew to search it out—this peculiar carving that visualizes the theological idea, introduced in the fourth century and solidified in the fifth, that Mary conceived Jesus through her sense of hearing. Known as the conceptio per aurem, this teaching stems from a typological connection between Eve and Mary: Whereas Eve listened to the serpent’s lies and conceived death, Mary listened to the angel’s truth and conceived life. The teaching presents Mary as a model of attentive listening to God’s word, which produces fruit; for receiving it into ourselves, bearing it about. It also serves to desexualize the encounter between Mary and Gabriel, focusing attention away from Mary’s genital region and onto her head.

Look at how this artist visualizes the conception by ear! God the Father sits at the top center inside a flowery mandorla, blowing into a serpentine tube that’s attached to Mary’s ear. As he does, a gleefully naked infant Christ glides down the tube on his belly like it’s a waterslide—only it’s not water that’s propelling him; it’s the Father’s breath.

Journeying down this transdimensional slide, he twists and turns and plunges right into his chosen mother’s open auditory canal, where the Holy Spirit as dove enunciates a sacred whisper: “You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus . . .” All three persons of the Trinity are present at this moment—their number echoed by the three-branched lily in the vase on the floor.

Behind Mary, two angels hold up a cloth of state, befitting royalty.

The conceptio per aurem was developed in both the East and the West by Christian writers and preachers such as Ephrem of Syria, Augustine of Hippo, Theodotus of Ancyra, Proclus of Constantinople, Cyrus of Panopolis, Zeno of Verona, Athanasius of Alexandria, and Bernard of Clairvaux. To learn more, I recommend the excellent book Divine Conception: The Art of the Annunciation by Sarah Drummond (Unicorn, 2019) and Proclus of Constantinople and the Cult of the Virgin in Late Antiquity: Homilies 1–5 by Nicholas Constas (Brill, 2003), each of which devotes an entire chapter to the motif.

Also on the exterior of the Marienkapelle are a handful of fantastical creatures in the jambs and archivolts and under corbels, and red sandstone grotesques on the eaves.

Grotesques above the west portal, Marienkapelle

Moving inside, the locally quarried pink and white sandstone columns that support the rib vault down the length of the nave are lovely. So are the post–World War II stained glass windows in the choir. But the main visual attraction is the high altarpiece, painted by an unidentified Franconian artist in 1514.

The central scene, consisting of two panels, shows the Annunciation, set inside a well-appointed domestic interior. Mary is interrupted from her prayers by a ruddy-faced messenger, whose banner bears his greeting: “Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.”

The left wing depicts the Nativity inside a half-built or dilapidated structure that’s exposed to the elements. Mary has laid the infant Christ on the ground, cushioning him as much as possible with her extended cloak. Shepherds peep through the metal bars of the window, craning their necks to see. An ox and ass have front-row seats. Joseph holds a candle, and a trio of angels sing from a song sheet.

The right wing depicts the Adoration of the Magi. The three foreign men of means present gifts to the Christ child while their entourages stand by patiently in the background. As is traditional, one of them is portrayed as Black.

Stay tuned for my next Würzburg post, where I’ll share photos from Neumünster, a church that was on my radar because of the unusual crucifix that hangs above one of its side altars.

Epiphany: Ecce advenit

January 6, 2026 Victoria Emily Jones1 Comment

LOOK: Adoration of the Magi by Silvestro dei Gherarducci

Silvestro dei Gherarducci_Adoration of the Magi — Silvestro dei Gherarducci (Italian, 1339–1399), *Adoration of the Magi in an Initial E*, cutting from a gradual, Florence, 1392–99. Illumination on parchment, 59 × 40 cm. Morgan Library and Museum, New York, MS M.653.5. All photos by Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]

(See commentary below.)

LISTEN: “Ecce advenit dominator Dominus” (Behold, the Sovereign Lord Is Come), introit for the Epiphany of the Lord, ca. 7th century | Performed by Floriani (men’s vocal ensemble), 2024

Ecce advenit dominator Dominus:
et regnum in manu eius
et potestas et imperium.

Deus, judicium tuum regi da,
et justitiam tuum filio regis.

Gloria patri, 
et filio, et spiritui sancto,
sicut erat in principio,
et nunc, et semper,
in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Behold, the Sovereign Lord is come, 
and in his hand the kingdom,
and power, and dominion. 

Give the king your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to a king’s son.

Glory be to the Father,
and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning,
is now, and ever shall be,
world without end. Amen.

In the Roman Catholic Church, the introit (sung while the priest approaches the altar for the Eucharist) for the Mass of the Epiphany is derived from three Old Testament texts: Malachi 3:1, 1 Chronicles 29:12, and Psalm 72:1. It communicates the royalty of Christ.

The church has sung this cento since as far back as the seventh century. The musical notation has been preserved in graduals (books that collect all the musical items of the Mass).

Two years ago at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York, I saw an Ecce advenit leaf from a now-dispersed medieval gradual that caught my attention with its glimmering gold. It’s one of twenty-three cuttings that the museum owns from a manuscript made at the Camaldolese monastery of Santa Maria degli Angeli in Florence, Italy, in the late fourteenth century, for the monastery of San Michele a Murano in Venice. The illuminations are by the then-prior (head) of Santa Maria, Silvestro dei Gherarducci.

The primary image on the page is an Adoration of the Magi inside a letter E (for Ecce). When a scene or figures appear inside a large decorative letter at the start of a text section, it’s called a historiated initial.

In the scene, the Holy Family stands at the mouth of a cave—Jesus is seated on Mary’s lap, while Joseph stands beside them holding a vessel that the elder magus handed him, a gift for the Christ child. It was typical for artists to depict the three magi as different ages: young (beardless), middle-aged, and elderly (gray-haired). The oldest of the group kneels on the ground, lays down his crown, and kisses Christ’s feet while the other two await their turn. In the background, a servant restrains two bridled camels.

Across the top and left margins of the page is a colorful vine scroll, and in the lower margin there’s a bas-de-page depicting the magi following the star. I love their fantastic hats! The elder one, astride a horse, points the way forward (the guiding star shines from the left of the page near some blue foliage); the other two follow his direction on camels. In front of the caravan are two servants, one walking on foot with a bag slung over his shoulder, and the other riding a camel beside a second camel carrying a chest that contains the treasures the magi will bestow on the newborn king they’re journeying to pay homage to.

I like to imagine the community of Camaldolese monks in late medieval Venice singing from this choirbook on Epiphany, the lovingly wrought images of Christ-pursuing, Christ-worshipping magi enlivening their engagement with the gospel story and supplementing their own worship.

While monastic choirs have retained the monophonic style of music (that is, a single melody line sung in unison or traded off) that the church used for most of the Middle Ages—what we call Gregorian chant—over time, the church at large developed a taste for more elaborate, polyphonic music (that is, music with two or more simultaneous but relatively independent melodic lines), which came into full flower during the Renaissance and was sung in cathedrals.

To illustrate the difference between medieval monophony and Renaissance polyphony, here’s an example of the latter: the English composer William Byrd’s setting, from 1607, of the Ecce advenit. During his lifetime it was sung in Epiphany services in the Church of England as well as in the manor houses of recusant Catholic families (who were forced by law at the time to worship clandestinely).

Epiphany is no isolated and solitary act. It is a process: it is eternally typical of the Divine character. We will not merely look back over the long centuries at the manifestation that first flashed forth before the eyes of the Three Wise Men. Here and now, God is revealing Himself afresh before our very eyes. . . . For us too, clogged and choked by the dismal sand, there is a star that guides, a God who beckons. If only we would see!

—Henry Scott Holland (1847–1918) [HT]

May you see God’s light and, with curiosity and intent, follow it. Find what it illuminates.

A blessed Epiphanytide to you all.

Roundup: Slaviiq in Alaska, Shrine of the Three Kings in Cologne, and more

January 4, 2026January 5, 2026 Victoria Emily Jones1 Comment

ARTICLE: “Witnessing the Divine: The Magi in Art and Literature” by Robin Jensen, Bible Review: In this 2001 article, art historian Robin Jensen traces the development of the tradition of the magi through early Christian art (catacomb frescoes, sarcophagi and funerary plaques, church mosaics) and literature.

Adoration of the Magi (catacombs) — *The Adoration of the Magi*, 3rd century. Fresco, Capella Graeca, Catacomb of Priscilla, Rome. Photo: Vincenzo Pirozzi.

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SONGS:

>> Slaviiq (“Starring”) carols in St. Paul, Alaska: In the mid-eighteenth century, Russian Orthodoxy was the first Christian denomination to take root in Alaska; Siberian trappers arrived as part of the “fur rush,” and many ended up marrying local Native women, bringing their religion into their new and growing families. Now Orthodoxy is widely practiced in Unangan (Aleut), Alutiiq (Kodiak), Yup’ik, and Tlingit communities.

Adapted from a custom originating in the Carpathian Mountains, Slaviiq (also spelled Slaviq, Slaaviq Selaviq, or Slavii), meaning “Starring,” is a multiday Native Alaskan Orthodox Christmas celebration beginning on the Feast of the Nativity of Christ on January 7. It involves processions into homes with a large decorated pinwheel star, caroling in English, Slavonic, and Native languages, traditional foods, prayers, and blessings.

The following video is a five-minute clip from a Slaviiq celebration in 2022 on Saint Paul Island, one of the homes of the Unangan people. Community members Aquilina Lestenkof and George Pletnikoff Jr. sing a few songs while a youth spins the Christmas star.

To learn more about the Slaviiq tradition, see:

Catherine Madsen, “Following the Star,” University of Alaska Department of Music
Nina Shultz, “Slaviq: An Expression of Native Alaskan Orthodoxy,” Journal of the International Society for Orthodox Music 8, no. 1 (2024): 68–78

>> “Bright Star,” arranged for string quartet by Ellie Consta and performed by Her Ensemble: Published in 1968, the Christmas song “Bright Star” was a collaboration between poet Janice Lovoos and composer Margaret Bonds [previously]. Her Ensemble, a UK-based women’s orchestra founded by violinist Ellie Consta to perform and promote music by female composers, encountered the song in 2021 through Lara Downes’s solo piano arrangement and decided to arrange it for strings. “We wanted to keep it as close to the original as possible because it’s just so beautiful as it is,” they write, “but we did add a couple of very subtle harmonics in the background to add a little extra Christmas charm!”

It’s an instrumental performance, but here are Lovoos’s lyrics:

Bright star, glist’ning star, shining on that holy night,
guiding shepherds in their flight to Bethlehem;

Bright star, guiding star, leading to a blessed abode,
three wise men on camels rode to Bethlehem;

Bright star, glimm’ring star, floating in your cobalt sea,
won’t you light the way for me as you did them in Bethlehem;

Sweet star, holy star, won’t you shine as bright today,
bright as when the Christ child lay
in his manger in the hay in Bethlehem, in Bethlehem.

>> “Songs of Thankfulness and Praise,” performed by Josh Bales: The Episcopal priest and singer-songwriter Josh Bales introduces an Epiphany hymn from 1862 by Christopher Wordsworth, nephew of the Romantic poet William Wordsworth. Observed annually on January 6, Epiphany (meaning “manifestation”) celebrates three events in which Jesus’s identity was made manifest: the visit of the magi, Jesus’s baptism in the Jordan, and Jesus’s first miracle at the wedding at Cana. The Western Church focuses on the magi, the Eastern Church on the baptism. Read the lyrics at Hymnary.org. The tune, SALZBURG, was composed by Jakob Hintze in 1678.

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VIDEO: “Nicholas of Verdun, Shrine of the Three Kings, Cologne Cathedral,” Smarthistory: I visited Cologne for the first time in fall 2025. I loved it. My only disappointment was that access to its cathedral’s most beautiful art object, the Shrine of the Three Kings, was obstructed, with the entire sanctuary and choir areas roped off, even though there was no Mass in session. I, a Protestant, was indifferent to the relics inside—the purported skulls of the magi—that have made Cologne an important pilgrimage destination since the Middle Ages. I merely wanted to see this extraordinary twelfth-century metalwork I had read about in art history books, the high point of Mosan art, from the renowned workshop of Nicholas of Verdun. If time had allowed, I could have paid for a tour that would have brought me a little closer but still at a distance. Instead, I had to resort to awkward viewing angles through metal bars.

However, a month after I returned home, Smarthistory uploaded a video that gives a closer look at the shrine, with lovely detail photographs by director Steven Zucker.

Adoration of the Magi and Baptism (Cologne) — Nicholas of Verdun and workshop, *Shrine of the Three Kings* (front view), ca. 1181–1220. Oak, gold, silver gilt, copper, enamel, jewels, 155 × 112 × 224 cm. Cologne Cathedral, Germany. Photo: Steven Zucker.

The short end that faces out toward worshippers portrays, in pure gold, the Adoration of the Kings, with the three traditional sovereigns accompanied by a fourth, the Holy Roman emperor Otto IV. (He had paid for the shrine’s production—following the magi’s example, he donated a materially precious gift in homage to Christ.) To the right of this scene is the Baptism of Christ.

The figures on the sides represent prophets, apostles, and evangelists.

Open-Access Image Archive of Middle Eastern Art, Architecture, and Archaeology

August 13, 2025 Victoria Emily Jones1 Comment

Based at the Faculty of Classics at the University of Oxford, the Manar al-Athar (“Guide to Archaeology”) digital archive provides high-resolution photographs of archaeological sites, buildings, and art from the Levant, North Africa, the Caucasus, and the Balkans, covering the time of Alexander the Great (ca. 300 BCE) through the Byzantine and early Islamic periods, with special emphasis on late antiquity. All the images are freely downloadable, made available for teaching, research, and academic publication under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 UK (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) license.

Manar al-Athar was established in 2012 by Dr. Judith McKenzie (1957–2019) and since 2020 has been directed by Dr. Ine Jacobs. It is in continuous development. The photos are cataloged by geographical region and are labeled in both English and Arabic. They picture a range of historical structures—some intact, others in ruins; both interiors and exteriors, where applicable—including mausoleums, churches, mosques, khanqahs (Sufi lodges), hammams (public bathhouses), palace complexes, madrasas (colleges for Islamic instruction), forums, fountains, cisterns, aqueducts, civic buildings, theaters, markets, fortifications, and hostels.

Of primary interest to me is the Christian art from churches and tombs, from countries such as Egypt, Syria, Turkey, Armenia, Georgia, and Serbia, and Jewish art that pictures stories from the Hebrew Bible.

Unfortunately, the subjects of the artworks aren’t labeled and there’s no commentary or transcription/translation of inscriptions, nor are the buildings or artworks dated. Inevitably, many of the frescoes and mosaics have degraded with age, sometimes making the iconography difficult to read. There’s also no way to filter by religion; Christianity accounts for only a portion of the images, with others coming from Jewish, Islamic, or pagan traditions, and a number are from nonreligious contexts. I’d love to see a more robust tagging system and advanced searchability functions as the archive continues to evolve.

The archive is by no means comprehensive, but I hope it will encourage further scholarship and attract more digital image donations.

Below is a sampling of the hundreds of images you can find on the Manar al-Athar website.

One of the earliest surviving and best-preserved Christian cemeteries in the world, used by Christians from the third to eighth centuries, is Bagawat Necropolis in the Kharga Oasis in Egypt’s Western Desert. The Chapel of Peace is one of 263 mud-brick funerary chapels in the cemetery, celebrated for the painting of biblical, early Christian, and allegorical figures inside its dome.

Chapel of Peace (Bagawat, Egypt) — The Chapel of Peace, a monumental Christian tomb at Bagawat Necropolis, Kharga Oasis, Egypt, built 5th or 6th century. Photo: Mohamed Kenawi / Manar al-Athar.

Paul and Thecla (Chapel of Peace) — Dome fresco detail from the Chapel of Peace at Bagawat Necropolis in Kharga Oasis, Egypt, 5th or 6th century. Photo: Mohamed Kenawi / Manar al-Athar.

The detail pictured above shows the female saint Thecla (Θέκλα), a first-century Christian preacher and martyr, learning from the apostle Paul (Παῦλος), as described in the ancient apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla. They both sit on stools, Thecla holding open a book on her lap, pen in hand, while Paul points out a particular text.

In addition to Paul and Thecla, the dome fresco also depicts, clockwise from that pair: Adam and Eve; Abraham about to sacrifice his son Isaac, with Sarah stretching out her hand (it’s unclear whether this gesture signifies her surrender to God’s will or an attempt to stop her husband’s act); Peace, holding a scepter and an ankh; Daniel in the Lions’ Den; Justice, holding a cornucopia and balance scales; Prayer; Jacob; Noah’s Ark; and the Virgin Annunciate, the New Eve, who heard the word of God and obeyed it and thus brought forth life, unlike her ancestor, who listened to the lies of the Evil One and brought forth death (the snake and dove at the women’s respective ears emphasize this contrast). View a facsimile of the full dome here.

Also in the Egyptian folder are photos of one of Byzantine Egypt’s most glorious encaustic-painted sanctuaries, that of the Red Monastery Church, a triconch (three-apse) basilica that’s part of the (Coptic Orthodox) Monastery of Apa Bishuy near Sohag.

Here’s a video that presents a 3D reconstruction and fly-through of the basilica:

Moving northeast into Israel, we come to the sixth-century Bet Alpha (sometimes rendered as Beit Alfa) Synagogue, located in the Beit She’an Valley. The excavation of Jewish sacred sites like this one reveal that, contrary to what is popularly alleged, Judaism is not a strictly aniconic religion. Many Jewish communities have understood the prohibition against graven images in Exodus 20:3–6 and Leviticus 26:1 as a prohibition against idol worship, not figurative art (art that depicts people and animals) in general. Thus several ancient synagogues, not to mention Jewish manuscripts, portray episodes from the biblical narrative, such as the Akedah (Binding [of Isaac]), told in Genesis 22.

Sacrifice of Isaac (Bet Alpha mosaic) — *The Binding of Isaac*, early 6th century. Mosaic pavement, Bet Alpha (Beit Alfa) Synagogue, Heftziba, Israel. Photo: Sean Leatherbury / Manar al-Athar.

Rendered in a primitive style, this scene is one of three from the mosaic pavement in the central hall of Bet Alpha. It shows Abraham, sword in hand, about to throw his son Isaac onto a fiery altar, when God, represented by a hand from the sky, intervenes, telling him to stop; it’s then that Abraham notices a ram tangled up in a nearby thicket, which he sacrifices instead. The Hebrew inscriptions read, from right to left, “Yitzhak” (Isaac), “Avraham” (Abraham), “al tishlakh” (Do not lay [your hand on the boy]), and “v’hineh ayil” (Here is a ram). Stylized palm trees line the top of the scene.

Here is video footage of the full floor mosaic in its space, showing wide views as well as details, including of the remarkable zodiac wheel in the center:

Mosaic was a common form of late antique decoration in places of worship. Here are two examples from Syria:

Tell Aar church mosaics — Mosaics from the ancient Tell Aar church, including a chi-rho monogram with an alpha and omega (foreground) and peacocks flanking an amphora (background), housed in the Maarat al-Numan Museum, Syria. Photo: Sean Leatherbury / Manar al-Athar.

Deer drinking water — *Deer drinking from a stream*, 5th century. Mosaic, Church of the Martyrs, Taybat al-Imam, Syria. Photo: Jane Chick / Manar al-Athar.

To the north of Syria in Turkey—cataloged by Manar al-Athar under “Anatolia,” the ancient name for the peninsula that comprises the majority of the country—there are the Cappadocian cave churches, hewn out of volcanic tufa. They began to be built in the fifth century, with a boom happening in the ninth through eleventh centuries, which is the period to which almost all the surviving paintings can be dated. There are over a thousand such churches, some very simple inside, and others elaborately painted. The architecture has been described as eccentric and enchanting. I like to imagine the monks, nuns, and other Christians who worshipped there all those centuries ago.

Rock-hewn chapel, Cappadocia — Middle Byzantine cave church, Göreme Open Air Museum, Cappadocia, Turkey. Photo: Marlena Whiting / Manar al-Athar.

Crucifixion and Transfiguration — Frescoes depicting the Crucifixion and the Transfiguration, from a rock-cut chapel at the Göreme Open Air Museum, Cappadocia, Turkey. Photo: Marlena Whiting / Manar al-Athar.

Christ in Glory (Turkey) — *The Ascension of Christ*, 10th century. Dome fresco, Church of the Evil Eye (El Nazar Kilise), Göreme, Cappadocia, Turkey. Photo: Marlena Whiting / Manar al-Athar.

One of the cave churches in Cappadocia, part of an ancient monastic settlement, is Pancarlik Church, home to an impressive fresco cycle on the Life of Christ that’s painted mainly in rusty red and bean green.

Adoration of the Magi (Turkey) — *Adoration of the Magi* fresco and Greek cross relief carving, probably early 11th century. Pancarlik Church, Cappadocia, Turkey. Photo: Marlena Whiting / Manar al-Athar.

Baptism of Christ (Pancarlik Church, Turkey) — *The Baptism of Christ*, probably early 11th century. Fresco, Pancarlik Church, Cappadocia, Turkey. Photo: Marlena Whiting / Manar al-Athar.

Beyond Cappadocia but also in Turkey is Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom) in Trabzon, not to be confused with the more famous Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, 650 miles away. Originally a Greek Orthodox church, it was converted into a mosque following the conquest of Trabzon (then called Trebizond) by Mehmed II in 1461. During prayer the frescoes in the nave, made by Christians who built and previously occupied the space, are covered by curtains to honor the Islamic prohibition against images—the veils are pulled aside during tourist hours—while the frescoes in the narthex remain uncovered at all times.

Breakfast on the Shore (Hagia Sophia, Trabzon) — *The Incredulity of St. Thomas* (top) and *The Risen Christ Appears on the Shore* (bottom), late 13th century. Frescoes, Hagia Sophia (Aya Sofya Mosque), Trabzon, Turkey. Photo courtesy of Manar al-Athar.

One of the frescoes shows Christ appearing to his disciples after his resurrection on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. He hands a fish and a loaf of bread to Peter, who stands at the front of the group, so that they can all share a joyous breakfast together after the tragic, upending events of the previous week.

Tetramorph (Hagia Sophia, Trabzon) — Frescoed narthex, late 13th century, Hagia Sophia (Aya Sofya Mosque), Trabzon, Turkey. Photo: Matthew Kinloch / Manar al-Athar.

Another fresco, on the vaulted ceiling of the narthex, shows the four living creatures of Revelation 4—long interpreted by Christian artists as symbols of the Four Evangelists—situated along the four sides of the canopy of the heavens, each holding a golden Gospel-book and surrounded by seraphim and blazes of rainbow light.

In the Caucasus region, Armenia has a long and rich tradition of Christian art, especially relief carving and painting, as the faith took root there early on in the fourth century.

Momik Vardpet, *Virgin and Child*, ca. 1321. Carved tympanum, west portal, Church of St. Astvatsatsin (Holy Mother of God), Areni, Armenia. Photo courtesy of Manar al-Athar.

Overlooking the village of Areni on the eastern bank of the river Arpa is the Church of St. Astvatsatsin, which has a beautiful relief carving in the tympanum above the west portal by the Armenian architect, sculptor, and manuscript illuminator Momik Vardpet (died 1333). It depicts the Christ child seated on the lap of his mother, holding a scroll in one hand and raising the other in blessing. Decorative vines rise up behind and around the pair, suggesting verdancy.

The most distinctive Christian art form in Armenia is the khachkar, a carved memorial stele bearing a cross and often botanical motifs, and only occasionally a Christ figure. In the village of Sevanavank, at a different Church of St. Astvatsatsin, there’s a particularly striking khachkar that portrays the crucified Christ in the center, and below that, a scene of the Harrowing of Hell.

Harrowing of Hell (Armenia) — *The Harrowing of Hell*, detail of a khachkar from the Church of St. Astvatsatsin (Holy Mother of God) in Sevanavank, Armenia. Photo: Matthew Kinloch / Manar al-Athar. [view full khachkar]

Holding aloft his cross as a scepter, the risen Christ breaks down the gates of death and rescues Adam and Eve, representatives of redeemed humanity, while serpents hiss vainly at his heels. I’m struck by the uniqueness of Christ’s hair, which flows down in two long braided pigtails. Was this a common hairstyle for males in medieval Armenia? I have no idea.

The last artwork from Armenia that I’ll share is an icon of paradise from the Church of St. Astvatsatsin (yes, it’s a popular church name in that country!) at Akhtala Monastery.

Paradise (Armenia) — *Paradise*, 1205–16. Fresco, west wall, Church of St. Astvatsatsin (Holy Mother of God), Akhtala Monastery, Akhtala, Armenia. Photo courtesy of Manar al-Athar.

In the center is the Mother of God flanked by two angels. On the left is Abraham with a child, representing a blessed soul, sitting on his lap (Luke 10:22 describes how the righteous dead go to “Abraham’s bosom,” a place of repose). On the right is Dismas, the “good thief” who repented on the cross of his execution, and to whom Jesus promised paradise (Luke 23:39–43); he is venerated as a saint in the Catholic and Orthodox churches.

The image is part of a larger Last Judgment scene that covers the entire west wall. A few panels above, at the very top, Christ is enthroned on a rainbow.

The neighboring country of Georgia has also cultivated a tradition of Christian icon painting. The main church of Gelati Monastery, founded in 1106, is richly decorated with painted murals dating from the twelfth through seventeenth centuries. One of them is the Lamentation over the Dead Christ: The Virgin Mary gently cradles the head of her son and Mary Magdalene throws her arms up in grief while the apostle John leans in close to mourn the loss and Joseph of Arimathea begins to wrap the body in a shroud.

Lamentation (Georgia) — *Lamentation over the Dead Christ*, fresco, Church of the Blessed Virgin, Gelati Monastery, near Kutaisi, Georgia. Photo courtesy of Manar al-Athar.

Another Georgian icon painting, from the central dome of the Church of St. Nicholas in Nikortsminda, shows angels bearing aloft a jeweled cross, surrounded by the twelve apostles.

Georgian church dome — Central dome, Church of St. Nicholas, Nikortsminda, Georgia. Photo: Ross Burns / Manar al-Athar.

Lastly, from the Balkans, I want to point out Decani Monastery in Kosovo, a Serbian Orthodox monastery built in the fourteenth century in an architectural style that combines Byzantine and Romanesque influences. The tympana of its katholicon (main church) lean into the Romanesque. The one over the south entrance portrays John baptizing Jesus in the river Jordan, and the Serbian inscription below describes the monastery’s founding.

Baptism of Christ tympanum (Decani) — *The Baptism of Christ*, 1327–35. Carved tympanum, south portal, Christ Pantocrator Church, Decani Monastery, near Deçan, Kosovo. Photo: Mark Whittow / Manar al-Athar.

Decani’s katholicon is the largest and best-preserved medieval church in the Balkans and due to continuing ethnic strife in the region is under international military protection. The Blago Fund website has more and better photos of the extensive frescoes inside, from the fourteenth through seventeenth centuries.

It’s important to note that this is one of a number of churches from the Manar al-Athar archive that are still active sites of Christian worship, where communities of believers are nurtured through word, image, and sacrament.

If you are interested in volunteering with Manar al-Athar—helping with image processing, labeling, fundraising, or web building—or if you have taken any photographs that may be of interest to the curatorial team, email manar@classics.ox.ac.uk.

Website: https://www.manar-al-athar.ox.ac.uk/

Epiphany: Nothing but a Child

January 6, 2025January 6, 2025 Victoria Emily Jones5 Comments

LOOK: The Nativity of Christ by Irakli Parjiani

Parjiani, Irakli_The Nativity of Christ — Irakli Parjiani (Georgian, 1950–1991), *The Nativity of Christ*, 1990. Oil on canvas, 100 × 132 cm.

LISTEN: “Nothing but a Child” by Steve Earle, on Copperhead Road (1988)

From the compilation album To: Kate—A Benefit for Kate’s Sake, sung with Allison Moorer, 2005:

Once upon a time in a far-off land
Wise men saw a sign and set out across the sand
Songs of praise to sing, they traveled day and night
And precious gifts to bring, guided by the light

They chased a brand-new star, ever towards the west
Across the mountains far, but when they came to rest
They scarce believed their eyes, they’d come so many miles
And this miracle they prized was nothing but a child

Refrain:
And nothing but a child could wash those tears away
Or guide a weary world into the light of day
And nothing but a child could help erase those miles
So once again we all can be children for a while

Now all around the world, in every little town
Every day is heard a precious little sound
And every mother kind and every father proud
Looks down in awe to find another chance allowed [Refrain]

Outro:
Nothing but a little baby
Nothing but a child

This is the final post in my 2024/25 Advent–Christmas series. Thanks for journeying with me! If you feel so led, please consider donating; I’ve been having trouble with the embedded Stripe form often rejecting credit cards and then WordPress disabling it (do any of you know of a secure but reliable credit card processor that does not require donors to make an account and that integrates well with WordPress?), but PayPal and Amazon are still options.

I wish you all a very happy Epiphanytide!

Advent, Day 24 (Christmas Eve): Genealogy of Christ

December 24, 2024 Victoria Emily JonesLeave a comment

LOOK: Genealogy of Christ and the Adoration of the Magi, from a Beatus manuscript

Genealogy with Adoration of the Magi — Bifolium with part of the Genealogy of Christ and the Adoration of the Magi, from a Beatus manuscript, Spain, ca. 1180. Tempera, gold, and ink on parchment, each folio 17 1/2 × 11 13/16 in. (44.4 × 30 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

LISTEN: “Christ” by Poor Bishop Hooper, on Firstborn (2018)

Abraham fathered Isaac
Isaac fathered Jacob
Then Jacob fathered Judah and his brothers
Judah, he fathered Perez
Who fathered Hezron, who fathered Aram
Aram fathered Amminadab
Who fathered Nahshon, who fathered Salmon

Salmon fathered Boaz by Rahab
Boaz fathered Obed by Ruth
And Obed fathered Jesse, and Jesse was the father of King David
Then David fathered Solomon by Uriah’s own wife

Solomon, he was the father of Rehoboam, who fathered Abijah
Who fathered Asa and then Jehoshaphat
Jehoram fathered Uzziah
Who fathered Jotham
Jotham, he fathered Ahaz, who was the father of Hezekiah

Manasseh, he fathered Amon (who fathered Josiah)
And Jeconiah (and his brothers) amidst the exile
Shealtiel fathered Zerubbabel (who fathered Abihud)
Who fathered Eliakim (who fathered Azor), who fathered Zadok
Zadok fathered Achim (who fathered Eliud), who fathered Eleazar
(Who fathered Matthan) Who fathered Jacob

And Jacob was the father of Joseph
And Joseph took a virgin for his wife
And Mary was the one who gave birth to the Son of God
(Mary was the one who gave birth to the Son of God)
Mary was the one who gave birth to the Son of God
(Mary was the one who gave birth)

And his name is Jesus
And his name is Jesus
And his name is Jesus
And his name is Jesus
Who is called the Christ (Jesus)
Wonderful Counselor (And his name is Jesus)
Almighty God, the everlasting Father (And his name is Jesus)
Prince of Peace, Almighty God (And his name is Jesus)
Who is called the Christ

Who knew a sung genealogy could be so captivating? Jesse and Leah Roberts are a married couple from Missouri who write, sing, and record songs together as Poor Bishop Hooper. The lyrics of “Christ”—a list of Jesus’s ancestors—come straight from Matthew 1. This recording from their home studio premiered at the virtual Songs for Hope: A TGC Advent Concert on December 6, 2020.

Epiphany: Die Könige

January 6, 2024January 5, 2025 Victoria Emily JonesLeave a comment

LOOK: Adoration of the Magi by Rogier van der Weyden

van der Weyden, Rogier_Adoration of the Magi — Rogier van der Weyden (Netherlandish, 1399–1464), *Adoration of the Magi*, ca. 1455. Painting on oak wood, 139.5 × 152.9 cm. Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany.

This remarkable painting by the early Northern Renaissance master Rogier van der Weyden shows three kings arriving from afar to worship the Christ child. All the splendor of foreign courts comes to the dilapidated stable of Jesus’s birth, which is relocated to the Low Countries of the fifteenth century. (Notice the contemporary cityscape in the background.)

The most senior king greets the child first, humbly removing his hat and crown and kneeling on the ground, his fur-lined velvet robe rubbing the dirt. He supports the child’s feet with one hand and with the other gently lifts the child’s hand to kiss. Two fellow sovereigns stand behind him, followed by their entourage and various locals.

Standing on the left, in red, is Joseph, hat and staff in hand. He looks reflectively on the visitors, taking it all in. Leaning against the stone wall behind Joseph, a rosary between his fingers, is the painting’s donor. While it’s true that sometimes the practice of painting donors into biblical scenes was done for flattery or, if a condition of the commission, out of arrogance, more often the motivation or purpose was to imaginatively place yourself into the sacred scene as a witness, making yourself present to an event that was in time and yet that also transcends time, in that its impact is ongoing. Seeing oneself as a participant in Christ’s story, a devotee alongside those who walked with him in the flesh, can aid in spiritual contemplation.

Another anachronism—or rather, a collapsing of chronos and kairos—is the crucifix hung on the central pillar of the stable! This of course alludes to the cruel death Christ would face some thirty years later.

van der Weyden, Rogier_Adoration of the Magi (crucifix detail)

This painting is the centerpiece of a triptych originally made for St. Mary’s Chapel in the church of St. Columba in Cologne. The wings depict the Annunciation and the Presentation of Christ in the Temple.

van der Weyden, Rogier_Columba Altarpiece — Rogier van der Weyden (Netherlandish, 1399–1464), Saint Columba Altarpiece, ca. 1455. Painting on oak wood, 139.5 × 152.9 cm (central), 139.5 × 72.9 cm (each wing). Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany.

LISTEN: “Die Könige” (The Kings) from Weihnachtslieder (Christmas Songs), Op. 8, by Peter Cornelius, 1870 | Arranged for a cappella choir by Ivor Atkins, 1957 | Performed by VOCES8, the VOCES8 Scholars, the VOCES8 Foundation Choir, and Apollo5, dir. Barnaby Smith, feat. Jonathan Pacey, 2023

Drei Könige wandern aus Morgenland;
Ein Sternlein führt sie zum Jordanstrand.
In Juda fragen und forschen die drei,
Wo der neugeborene König sei?
Sie wollen Weihrauch, Myrrhen und Gold
Dem Kinde spenden zum Opfersold.

Und hell erglänzet des Sternes Schein:
Zum Stalle gehen die Kön’ge ein;
Das Knäblein schaun sie wonniglich,
Anbetend neigen die Könige sich;
Sie bringen Weihrauch, Myrrhen und Gold
Zum Opfer dar dem Knäblein hold.

O Menschenkind! halte treulich Schritt!
Die Kön’ge wandern, o wandre mit!
Der Stern der Liebe, der Gnade Stern
Erhelle dein Ziel, so du suchst den Herrn,
Und fehlen Weihrauch, Myrrhen und Gold,
Schenke dein Herz dem Knäblein hold!

English translation:

Three kings journey from the East;
A little star leads them to Jordan’s banks.
In Judaea the three of them seek and inquire
Where the newborn king might be.
They wish to make offerings to the child:
Gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

And brightly shines the light of the star.
The three kings enter the stable;
They gaze in rapture at the child,
Bowing low in adoration.
Gold, frankincense, and myrrh
They bring to the child as offering.

O child of man! Follow them faithfully.
The kings are journeying; oh, journey too!
Let the star of love, the star of grace,
Light your way as you seek the Lord,
And if you lack gold, frankincense, and myrrh,
Give your heart to that sweet child.

The German composer and poet Peter Cornelius (1824–1874) was a friend of Franz Liszt’s and Richard Wagner’s. “Die Könige” (The Kings) is the third, and most popular, song in a Christmas cycle he wrote for voice and piano, the others being “Christbaum” (Christmas Tree), “Die Hirten” (The Shepherds), “Simeon,” “Christus der Kinderfreund” (Christ the Friend of Children), and “Christkind” (Christ Child). Cornelius began writing his Weihnachtslieder cycle—both text and music—in 1856, and it underwent several rounds of revision, incorporating input from others, before being published in 1870.

From VOCES8’s Live From London Christmas 2022 broadcast, the performance of “Die Könige” above features as the baritone soloist Jonathan Pacey, who sang bass for VOCES8 from 2015 to 2022. He chose this song as the encore in his final concert. Pacey’s voice is absolutely gorgeous!

This post concludes our journey through the cycle of light, Advent-Christmas-Epiphany. Thanks for walking the road with me! I encourage you to keep journeying, keep following the light, throughout the rest of the church year. May love and grace, as “Die Könige” says, light your way as you seek the Lord.

If you’d like to leave a donation to help offset the costs of running Art & Theology, which I’d really appreciate, you may do so through PayPal or this secure Stripe form. You can expect many more new posts in 2024! Just not at a daily frequency.

Roundup: Unique Nativity from Burgundy, Jamaican choral work for Epiphany, Vatican-sponsored art contest, and more

January 3, 2024January 10, 2024 Victoria Emily JonesLeave a comment

I’ve just published a new Spotify playlist for January (thirty spiritual songs on no particular theme), and I want to also remind you of my Epiphany Playlist.

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ANNOUNCEMENT: Vatican to hold Stations of the Cross art contest: Artists from across the globe are encouraged to participate in the Vatican-sponsored contest for fourteen new Stations of the Cross paintings. The winner will be announced September 30, 2024, awarded €120,000 (about $131,000), given a year to complete the commission, and then have their set of paintings exhibited in St. Peter’s Basilica during Lent 2026. The first step is to fill out an online application, which will become available January 8, with a deadline of January 31. Learn more at the link. (Update: The registration link is now live at https://contest.viacrucis2026.va/en/registration.)

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ART OBJECT: Burgundian Crèche, ca. 1450: In researching depictions of Joseph at the Nativity, I came across this charming little limestone-carved crèche from fifteenth-century Burgundy, France, acquired by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Set inside a dilapidated brick interior patched with wattled matting, the scene portrays the infant Christ lying in a wattled manger that rests on a crumbling wall ledge. Such an unusual composition! I’m not sure why the infant is placed so precariously and at a height when there’s a carved cradle available on the ground, where angels kindly fluff his pillow, but I suppose it was to avoid overcrowding and for visual balance.

Burgundian creche — Circle of Antoine Le Moiturier (French, 1425–1495), *Nativity*, Burgundy, France, ca. 1450. Limestone with later paint and gilding, 17 3/4 × 25 7/8 × 7 1/4 in. (45.1 × 65.7 × 18.4 cm). Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

A donkey licks Christ’s feet while an ox licks his hand, which he appears to delight in, as he lifts his arm for better access. To the left and right of him are a trio of angels and shepherds, respectively, excitedly leaning in from outside to get a better look. Mary gazes up at her son in adoration while Joseph dutifully tends to a parental chore: drying one of Jesus’s freshly washed linens at the fire. (Dad doing laundry—huzzah!)

To learn more about this sculpture, see the journal article “Popular Imagery in a Fifteenth-Century Burgundian Crèche” by William H. Forsyth.

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ART COMMENTARY: On The Adoration of the Magi by Domenico Veneziano: From the Visual Commentary on Scripture comes this 2022 video, one in a series filmed on-site at the Gemäldegalerie in Berlin. Theologian Ben Quash and art historian Jennifer Sliwka discuss an early Italian Renaissance tondo depicting the Adoration of the Magi.

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SONGS:

>> “Rejoice with Exceeding Great Joy”: Written by Lanny Wolfe in 1978 and performed by Reggie Smith, Charlotte Ritchie, and Ladye Love Smith at Bill and Gloria Gaither’s Homecoming Christmas 2006:

>> “Star of Bethlehem”: Written by Noel Dexter, arranged by C. S. (Cedron) Walters, and performed by the Jamaica Youth Chorale at their 2019 Christmas concert. Noel Dexter (1938–2019) was a Jamaican composer, choir director, and music educator, and this is probably his best-known work. It’s set to a Nyabinghi rhythm.

When the star of Bethlehem arise, hallelujah
When the star of Bethlehem arise, hallelujah
When the star of Bethlehem arise
Come show me where the young child born!

There were wise men coming from the east, hallelujah
There were wise men coming from the east, hallelujah
There were wise men coming from the east
Come show me where the young child born!

They brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh . . .

Not a man can save my soul . . .
But Jesus!
Show me where the young child born!

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VIDEO: “#NatZooZen: Giant Pandas Mei Xiang and Tian Tian in the Snow”: This Smithsonian’s National Zoo cam footage from January 2021 shows two giant pandas at play, sliding down a snowy hill! So adorable. Tian Tian and Mei Xiang arrived at the National Zoo in 2000 and in 2020 produced a cub, Xiao Qi Ji. All three pandas returned to Beijing in November, having been lent to the US by China as part of a cooperative research program whose contract has expired.