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Divine encounter: Explore the beauty of Pentecost through art

Divine encounter: Explore the beauty of Pentecost through art

Pentecost
“Pentecost” by Jean Restout the Younger. Public domain

This week, we set off on a captivating adventure for Pentecost with celebrated Catholic art scholar Elizabeth Lev. Journey through the silent corridors of history, where flashes of brilliance and murmurs of faith intersect. With a scholar’s perspective and a narrative flair, Lev reveals the intricate symbolism and deep meaning embedded in the works showcasing this crucial moment in Christian heritage. From the blazing arrival of the Holy Spirit to the quivering hearts of followers, every stroke of the brush and shaped contour acts as a gateway to the sacred meeting.

Yet, beneath the canvas and stone lies a more profound story — one of belief, camaraderie, and the strength of change. With Lev’s skilled direction, we journey through the ages, observing how creators from various cultures and periods have wrestled with the indescribable enigma of Pentecost, striving to encapsulate its spirit in color and illumination.

Join us as we reveal the concealed realities and enduring elegance contained within the art of Pentecost throughout this journey to decode the holy enigmas that persist in motivating and igniting the spirits of worshippers globally.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Pentecost artwork throughout the history of the Church

Our Sunday Visitor: Pentecost, the celebration of the Church’s revelation, commissions the apostles to proclaim the Gospel to the farthest reaches of the world. What importance does the art of Pentecost hold in the history of the Catholic Church?

Elizabeth Lev
Elizabeth Lev CNS photo/Robert Duncan

Elizabeth Lev: I believe the Church has sought to convey the concepts of Pentecost since its inception. It may have been on a more modest scale, as observed in early Christian art, where we encounter this type of imagery reflecting the commission of Jesus transferring the law to Peter and Paul and this concept of attempting to disseminate the message. However, I believe we begin to genuinely strive to depict the supernatural, which becomes significantly more intricate in the evolution of art, as we approach the first millennium. This is the period when we observe our initial substantial efforts to illustrate Pentecost.

Our Sunday Visitor: How did Christians start to illustrate this foundational event? What were the initial artistic forms utilized to represent it?

Elizabeth Lev: Paint and mosaic. Painting serves as our preliminary form of artistic expression. … While there exists a considerable amount of relief sculpture from that initial timeframe of 313 to approximately 500, … the true foundational art for Christians was indeed painting. It was those catacomb visuals that were frescoed directly onto the walls. Given that the majority of this art was created within churches, the most effective and candidly, the most cost-efficient method for creating artworks was fresco painting. Therefore, we encounter a greater volume of imagery produced in that technique.

The emblems of Pentecost

Our Sunday Visitor: It’s challenging to represent the Holy Spirit, in contrast to God the Father or depictions of Jesus Christ. What specific symbols do Christians utilize? How do we express the depth, the remarkable essence, of what occurs at Pentecost?

Bronze panel of the interior doors of St. Paul Outside-the-Walls. Public domain

Elizabeth Lev: Therefore, that is indeed the challenge. The challenge lies in attempting to depict the existence of the Holy Spirit. There are numerous, excellent representations of the second person of the Trinity. You sometimes come across a subtle depiction of the first person of the Trinity in a certain spot or glancing in from a higher edge. Yet, it has truly posed an intriguing challenge for Christians to illustrate the figure of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit’s absence of physical form is what complicates matters. One of my favorites is the piece from 1070 at St. Paul Outside-the-Walls, where you can observe in a bronze panel — here, they aim to create something within what would be considered a sculptural medium, but at the time of its creation, it’s not really a relief sculpture. It doesn’t resemble what you and I would define as a kind of sculpture where the figures pop out; rather, it’s an etching imprinted on a bronze panel. Thus, it is something that’s fundamentally one step removed from a cloisonné. In this depiction, you see individuals arranged in a sort of semicircle, with these small bands rising from above their heads — and there are tiny flames illustrated into each of these bands. This symbolizes their interpretation of Pentecost, which is a particularly fascinating approach to addressing the dilemma.

I’m particularly fascinated by these creative efforts to depict something where the artwork isn’t fully complete, correct? The art isn’t fully developed yet, but they’re pushing it to its maximum boundaries. This is something that we can all connect with because, isn’t it part of the enjoyment of some of these remarkable advancements in movies, when you observe the studio striving to visually depict a narrative and they are uncertain about how to achieve it, then they commence the process of discovery. This is an incredibly thrilling aspect for contemporary audiences to witness in the entertainment realm. However, in the domain of art, historically, the challenge lay in illustrating these sacred tales that appeared nearly unfeasible to visualize due to the constraints of what art could accomplish without perspective, without modeling, and so forth. Yet, witnessing the artist devise solutions is one of the most captivating elements of exploring art history.

Depicting the Holy Spirit

Our Sunday Visitor: We do possess some information to work with, don’t we? As you pointed out, the stunning depiction from St. Paul Outside-the-Walls, featuring flames, and the imagery of a dove representing the Holy Spirit, provides the symbolic interpretations presented to us from Scripture. Do you believe this aids or obstructs artists in conveying this enigma? Does having such a distinct sign or symbol impose limitations?

Elizabeth Lev: In my view, the Holy Spirit lacks a distinctly recognizable sign or symbol. This ambiguity allows artists greater freedom in their interpretations. After all, the Holy Spirit descends like a dove. It’s this breeze. These are all feelings; these terms are designed to evoke feelings. Thus, for artists like painters or sculptors, or anyone involved in a static medium that doesn’t produce a significant boom or a rush — or anything that appears to zoom past like a dove rushing by you — it presents an intriguing and highly open challenge to the creators to devise numerous varied ideas. So what are we contemplating? We’re considering something that’s coming down from above. Consequently, the artist will always have to contend with both the upper portion of the space and the lower portion of the space. We have this sense of unity, because they’re all present together. They’re in this enclosed upper chamber. So how do we depict this unity and how do we illustrate the concept that they’re about to be sent into this world, this assignment, this mission that they are given? This is the direction the artists are truly heading. And if they wish to display a dove, that’s fantastic. But from where the dove will emerge, how to illustrate this dove, which symbolizes the Holy Spirit, energizing these individuals with the Holy Spirit’s fire. How do we express the diversity of languages? It presents limitless potential, and it’s something that would be truly worthwhile — as we sit here on the brink of Jubilee 2025 — considering how we are prepared to venture into the world and create disciples of all countries. In what ways can we spark that passion artistically in 2025?

Symbolic depictions

Our Sunday Visitor: What are some of the most famous portrayals of Pentecost in artwork? What distinguishes them? If there are two or three representations of Pentecost that every Catholic ought to be familiar with, which would they be?

The ceiling of St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice features a ceiling mosaic centered around the Holy Spirit. Adobe Stock

Elizabeth Lev: The initial one I must mention is quite intimate. I recognize that the reason I admire it greatly is due to my personal encounters. It’s less about the scholarly perspective or the art historian’s insights or the knowledge of the counter-Reformation. It’s simply that I was present at San Marco during Pentecost in Venice a single year. And I traveled to Mass, and I found myself in a place where you get moved around in Venice … they kind of direct you into a secluded area. We entered this small section of a chapel, and the Pentecost Mass was taking place. Suddenly, I glanced above me and realized I was standing beneath the Dome of the Pentecost. This happened around 15 years ago, and I can still recall looking up and thinking, “Wow, the Holy Spirit is descending right now, on this day.” So how did these artists at San Marco achieve that? They employed this stunning, shimmering layer of gold mosaic. This was the medium in which the Venetians excelled … and they were the premier tessera makers for everyone in Europe engaged in mosaic art. The mosaic showcases a kind of, reflecting its more Constantinople influence, an unbroken expanse of gold. So when you gaze upwards, it’s simply radiance, this light — and the remainder of the church is notably dim — granting you this extraordinary brightness. … It made you feel connected to a community from both the past and the present. It transformed the ceiling into something supernatural, into heaven, into light, into illumination. And for me, it was like, “Ah, this is what Pentecost art is intended to accomplish.”

It’s somewhat among my preferred pictures. I would claim that my ultimate favorite is clearly the depiction from St. Peter’s Basilica, which, in my perspective, is an illustration. We refer to it as “the altar of the chair,” yet I believe it is the most exceptional of the depictions that aim to convey a notion of Pentecost because it truly unites all the arts. You have painting, sculpture, and architecture, all amalgamated into one.

“Altar of the Chair of St. Peter” by Gian Lorenzo Bernini Public domain

We discussed St. Peter’s, which I believe stands out as the most accomplished. You might contend that it serves as the “altar of the chair.” Nevertheless, I feel that ultimately, Bernini aims to portray Pentecost. When considering it, you could even frame it as a rivalry with Michelangelo, who has created representations of the first and second persons of the Trinity that are truly unmatched. And there’s Bernini, moving about in Michelangelo’s shadow, searching for the unique expression that Michelangelo could not achieve. Ultimately, he creates the non-corporeal image, an idea that was perpetually beyond Michelangelo’s capability to depict. Thus, his creation of the “altar of the chair”/Pentecost involves integrating all three artistic disciplines. In fact, one might say he incorporates even more forms of art than merely painting, sculpture, and architecture. He is the pioneer artist who begins to conceptualize like a film director. What drives him to adopt this innovative perspective in the evolution of art is indeed the challenge of illustrating the Holy Spirit. He begins his process with an architectural vision, creating an aperture in the back of the church so that, as the day concludes and the sun goes down, light enters through this opening, which signifies the Holy Spirit. More significantly, since the window is constructed from alabaster, and today often from stained glass, it is the golden light that filters in that symbolizes the fiery tongues of the Holy Spirit. Following this, clouds appear to cascade from the cosmos, alongside the Cherubim and the Seraphim. This imagery evokes a profound sense of divine presence. Thus, we observe these clouds emanating from the skies, evidencing divinity through these angels that are present to assist it. Then the clouds descend and they uphold the grand throne of St. Peter, encircled by the Church Fathers. The concept is that we are observing something that elevates, that sustains, that backs the magisterium as we collectively stand before that altar, poised to be sent into the world with our testimony. Therefore, I believe it truly embodies Bernini’s attempt to depict the Holy Spirit and specifically the mission of Pentecost in 1660.

Opening the heavens

Our Sunday Visitor: Do you possess a third favorite picture?

Elizabeth Lev: I appreciate the work by Jean Restout the Younger, initially created for the Abbey of Saint-Denis in Paris. Its dimensions are approximately four meters by seven meters, and the immense scale of the artwork makes it unforgettable. Essentially, he is attempting to create a ceiling painting in the Baroque style. However, he’s executing it for the wall of the refectory, which presents a challenge. Nevertheless, his technique evokes the notion of a substantial area beneath. Thus, we observe a backdrop of classical architecture that embodies measure and order, showcasing human control over the environment. In contrast, the upper section opens up to clouds, suggesting that this heavenly eruption into our realm is not intended to be contained but rather to spill over into the viewer’s space. Once again, this places additional responsibility on the viewer, as Pentecost symbolizes a vital aspect of our daily mission as Christians: to go forth and share the good news of the Gospel. I believe each of these elements culminates in a crescendo, which, after Restout, comes to a conclusion.

Pentecost by Jean Restout
“Pentecost” by Jean Restout the Younger. Public domain

Our Sunday Visitor: The Restout is incredible as the pillars are extending outward. They’re essentially unveiling the skies. That is astonishing to me.

Elizabeth Lev: Precisely. This illustrates how extensively we attempt to restrict and govern, believing we have everything in order. Even those apostles in that room were contemplating, “Alright, we’ll remain here until we’ve seized control and can manage everything.” However, it’s more like, “No, things aren’t genuinely going to be controllable. It’s not about achieving control. It’s about placing your trust in me. Let’s move. It’s time to go and make disciples.”

An artwork by a religious sister

Our Sunday Visitor: Currently, do you possess a preferred representation of Pentecost that you believe deserves more recognition? Perhaps one that isn’t as elaborate as the three examples you’ve referenced, yet still significant enough that you think everyone ought to be aware of it?

Elizabeth Lev: I certainly do. Once more, I believe there are several of these that are quite enjoyable. There was a religious sister, at the transition between the 15th and 16th centuries, named Plautilla Nelli who was an artist. For her convent, she created paintings. Interestingly, she also crafted a beautifully rendered depiction of the Pentecost. Although I’m certain the enthusiasts of Raphael and Michelangelo might respond with indifference, the reality is that this wonderfully feminine interpretation, where the central figures in the piece are all women, is quite enchanting and extremely pleasing. It serves, once more, as a reminder that this endeavor is not an exclusive space for males. It is for everyone. This holds significant importance, especially in the ambiente, in the assignment of these religious sisters; it truly held a remarkably unique importance.

Public Domain | Wikimedia Commons

Our Sunday Visitor: Certainly, I hadn’t come across that artwork until you pointed it out, but I was truly captivated by it. Specifically, I am fond of the small squids that are falling down, which aren’t the flames. However, there is a sort of fire rain that she has depicted, which is really coming down. I adored that.

Elizabeth Lev: What I appreciate about it is that it’s extremely raccolta, as we might express it in Italian, the manner in which one stays enclosed or somewhat centered in prayer. I believe this is a lovely depiction; it wonderfully contrasts with some of those exuberant and overflowing images where these are religious sisters dedicating their time within the convent. Furthermore, this approach to engaging in Pentecost illustrates that there are various methods of participation. There’s the proclaim-it-from-the-rooftops approach, but there’s also that prayerful, contemplative, quieter way in which we engage in the dissemination of the, or in prayer.

Modern depictions

Our Sunday Visitor: I would like to address some of the later images you shared during our discussion. Individuals have sought to capture the essence of renewal from Pentecost, aiming to create something fresh through more symbolic representations. What are your thoughts on what works well or what falls short in these contemporary efforts to portray Pentecost?

“Pentecost” by Jen Norton Public domain

Elizabeth Lev: I believe the issue I often encounter with many contemporary depictions of Pentecost is that they either appear overly cartoonish, resembling items made of felt. This results in an almost childish portrayal of “Look at the beautiful colors,” lacking any sense of purpose. Alternatively, the representations that irritate me the most are those that seem to suggest, ‘Oh, Pentecost is unfolding in my living room and nothing significant is occurring, so let’s focus on the peeling wallpaper or the individuals in very dull attire. The Holy Spirit was markedly different, reminiscent of Caligula when he secluded himself for six weeks and emerged believing he was divine. However, rather than viewing this as just a slight change in feeling or a different application of my energies, it’s essential to understand this event as a deep engagement between the divine and human that leads to an extraordinary capacity for humanity to declare the divine.

Experiencing Pentecost in the present day

Our Sunday Visitor: In what ways do you believe that incorporating this Pentecost celebration into art will enhance the overall spiritual experience of Catholics?

“The Pentecost” from the Doña María de Aragón Altarpiece by Doménikos Theotokópoulos (“El Greco”) Public domain

Elizabeth Lev: I’m reflecting at this very moment in the Pantheon in Rome, where on Pentecost Sunday, the red rose petals descend from the oculus. This ancient structure has stood for 1,800 years because, in 600, its remarkable design persuaded Christians to convert it into a church. Subsequently, the Christians adorned it with their beliefs. It resembles that Restout piece once more. You have this magnificent earthly edifice, yet amidst it, there’s an extraordinary event—the beauty of the rose petals falling, representing the tongues of flame, the thrill, the adventure, and all the visitors who enter, not necessarily due to a genuine interest in Pentecost Mass, but rather for the Instagram-worthy moment of the rose petals, out of curiosity, or simply to say they experienced it, among other reasons. This phenomenon draws people in. Now, once individuals are gathered in the presence of the Holy Spirit, unpredictable things can unfold. The Holy Spirit will act—Spirit will do what the Spirit does. Therefore, I believe it’s crucial that we adopt a more modern perspective; our duty remains unchanged since that time, and nothing varies—God doesn’t instruct, “Just stay in your room and we’ll be fine. Keep this between us and maintain a low profile, it will be all right.” That’s not at all the role we’re assigned. As we discover ways to articulate this notion that contemporary society refers to as “empowerment,” we are given the realization of freedom, the feeling of happiness, I believe the greater our efforts to honor this, the more we increase the possibility of “thy Kingdom come,” shaping the world according to God’s desires.

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