On the wall of monastic cell 32 of San Marco Convent, in Florence, the Dominican friar Guido di Pietro (c. 1395–1445)—called Fra Angelico—painted a fresco showing the scene of the Sermon on the Mount. The focal point of this work is the figure of Christ the Teacher that adorns the cover of this issue of Magnificat. One tradition calls this fresco The Beatitudes, so as to orient the viewer to this revelation of how to be a Christian and how to live a Christian life: it is nothing less than the secret of happiness!
The scenes from the Gospel depicted by Fra Angelico are much more than illustrations; they always rise to the level of a memorial about the mystery of mysteries, the mystery of the Word made flesh, which here will mean the fulfillment of our hope for beatitude. The memory of this mystery lends itself all the more to a pictorial expression, since it testifies that the Invisible has become an object of our sense of sight in the person of Jesus Christ. Moreover, the ultimate goal of Fra Angelico’s art is to lead us to commemorate “the eternity that comes into time, the immensity that comes into measure, the Creator who comes into creation, the unrepresentable that comes into an image, the ineffable that comes into speech, the one who cannot be circumscribed yet comes into a place, the invisible that comes into view” (Saint Bernardine of Siena).
For Fra Angelico, therefore, the representation of the mystery cannot be reduced to a mere depiction. However, the purpose of the painting—to represent what is visible—is at odds with his desire to signify the invisible absolute: divinity. Byzantine art and so-called Gothic French art had succeeded in going beyond this contradiction by elaborating narrative systems based on previously defined conventions, the first through theological codes, the second through allegories and symbols taken up into a mysticism of light. But Fra Angelico wants to enlist in the spirit of the Renaissance, and therefore to abandon the spirit of systems so as to return, as much as possible, to what is natural and real. To put it simply, let us say that Byzantine and early French art favored the representation of the meaning of a biblical scene, and that Renaissance art favors realism in depicting it. We see here as well that Fra Angelico does not cease to express himself through conventions, but he does so secondarily.
Toward the realities that are above
Fra Angelico’s art is therefore liberated from Byzantine and French influences; his manner of expression is clearly aligned with the way of realism. We can only admire here the sublime emotional dimension of Jesus’ face: the primary element in it is the realistic depiction of the person of Jesus, expressing his “real” existence, with the expression of his truly human sensibility. However, the conventions (here, the color of the clothing, the cross-marked halo, the scroll of the Gospels in his hand, the gesture of the Master who is teaching, the stylized mountain) are still very much present, although they have become secondary. Fra Angelico was able to preserve what was essential in the old traditions: the theological expression that was the strength of Byzantine art and the spiritual light that made the miracle of French art so brilliant. So it is that, by preserving the best of the old and adopting the best of the new, Fra Angelico “expressed in his painting what he contemplated interiorly, so as to raise men’s minds to the realities that are above” (Roman Martyrology).
When we admire a pictorial depiction of the Gospel by Blessed Fra Angelico, let us take our time—all the time we need to contemplate it and to discern in the artist’s design a doctrinal truth (here the Word made flesh, the teacher par excellence), a virtue to be practiced daily (here the Beatitudes), and a profound depth of contemplation (here the view of the invisible).
Then may the admirable figure of the Mystery of mysteries that illustrates the cover of the current issue of Magnificat be reflected in the depths of our souls as his real image in our lives. Didn’t Fra Angelico often say that “someone whose vocation is to work for Christ must live unceasingly with Christ and in him”?
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The Invisible That Comes into View
Le February 1, 2026
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On the wall of monastic cell 32 of San Marco Convent, in Florence, the Dominican friar Guido di Pietro (c. 1395–1445)—called Fra Angelico—painted a fresco showing the scene of the Sermon on the Mount. The focal point of this work is the figure of Christ the Teacher that adorns the cover of this issue of Magnificat. One tradition calls this fresco The Beatitudes, so as to orient the viewer to this revelation of how to be a Christian and how to live a Christian life: it is nothing less than the secret of happiness!
The scenes from the Gospel depicted by Fra Angelico are much more than illustrations; they always rise to the level of a memorial about the mystery of mysteries, the mystery of the Word made flesh, which here will mean the fulfillment of our hope for beatitude. The memory of this mystery lends itself all the more to a pictorial expression, since it testifies that the Invisible has become an object of our sense of sight in the person of Jesus Christ. Moreover, the ultimate goal of Fra Angelico’s art is to lead us to commemorate “the eternity that comes into time, the immensity that comes into measure, the Creator who comes into creation, the unrepresentable that comes into an image, the ineffable that comes into speech, the one who cannot be circumscribed yet comes into a place, the invisible that comes into view” (Saint Bernardine of Siena).
For Fra Angelico, therefore, the representation of the mystery cannot be reduced to a mere depiction. However, the purpose of the painting—to represent what is visible—is at odds with his desire to signify the invisible absolute: divinity. Byzantine art and so-called Gothic French art had succeeded in going beyond this contradiction by elaborating narrative systems based on previously defined conventions, the first through theological codes, the second through allegories and symbols taken up into a mysticism of light. But Fra Angelico wants to enlist in the spirit of the Renaissance, and therefore to abandon the spirit of systems so as to return, as much as possible, to what is natural and real. To put it simply, let us say that Byzantine and early French art favored the representation of the meaning of a biblical scene, and that Renaissance art favors realism in depicting it. We see here as well that Fra Angelico does not cease to express himself through conventions, but he does so secondarily.
Toward the realities that are above
Fra Angelico’s art is therefore liberated from Byzantine and French influences; his manner of expression is clearly aligned with the way of realism. We can only admire here the sublime emotional dimension of Jesus’ face: the primary element in it is the realistic depiction of the person of Jesus, expressing his “real” existence, with the expression of his truly human sensibility. However, the conventions (here, the color of the clothing, the cross-marked halo, the scroll of the Gospels in his hand, the gesture of the Master who is teaching, the stylized mountain) are still very much present, although they have become secondary. Fra Angelico was able to preserve what was essential in the old traditions: the theological expression that was the strength of Byzantine art and the spiritual light that made the miracle of French art so brilliant. So it is that, by preserving the best of the old and adopting the best of the new, Fra Angelico “expressed in his painting what he contemplated interiorly, so as to raise men’s minds to the realities that are above” (Roman Martyrology).
When we admire a pictorial depiction of the Gospel by Blessed Fra Angelico, let us take our time—all the time we need to contemplate it and to discern in the artist’s design a doctrinal truth (here the Word made flesh, the teacher par excellence), a virtue to be practiced daily (here the Beatitudes), and a profound depth of contemplation (here the view of the invisible).
Then may the admirable figure of the Mystery of mysteries that illustrates the cover of the current issue of Magnificat be reflected in the depths of our souls as his real image in our lives. Didn’t Fra Angelico often say that “someone whose vocation is to work for Christ must live unceasingly with Christ and in him”?
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Pierre-Marie Dumont
The Sermon on the Mount (1437–1445, detail), Fra Angelico (c. 1400–1455), Convent San Marco, Florence, Italy. © akg-images.
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