The Word Was the True Light
This stained-glass window was produced at the very end of the 13th century for the Cistercian abbey in Altenberg, not far from Cologne in Germany. The Cistercian order appeared in the 11th century, as part of the dynamic of the reform promoted by Pope Gregory VII, which aimed to restore a discipline of life for clerics in keeping with Catholic doctrine and worthy of the demands of their vocation. Founded by Saint Robert of Molesme († 1110), the order experienced its most remarkable expansion at the instigation of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux († 1153) and his companions. Starting with the restoration of the Rule of Saint Benedict, it was a matter of making a commitment to monastic life on “new paths of perfection.”
Ever since the catacombs of Priscilla (around the year 200), artists who have depicted the Annunciation of the Lord have always sought to convey some aspect of the Incarnation to contemplate, even though the mystery itself cannot be depicted. They have unceasingly met this challenge by adding to the factual account of the angel’s visit a proliferation of symbols signifying what cannot be represented: the Lily, the scepter, the hourglass, the three stars, the enclosed garden (hortus conclusus), the inviolate marriage bed, the screen, the column, the books of the Old and New Testaments, the spinning wheel or the thread, the shroud, the empty chair, the springtime motif…
Here, however, the depiction of the angel is devoid of all such symbols. In its studied sobriety, it brings to light other signifiers that are more discreet but more transparent for Cistercian monks, who are experienced contemplatives. Isn’t the very light that comes through the stained-glass window welcomed by them as a manifestation of the Light born of the Light? The art of stained-glass windows, born and raised within cathedrals with Gothic vaulting, created by a theology of Light and giving rise to it, was first the art of illuminating souls by the supernatural. And so the French poet Paul Claudel, in The Announcement Made to Mary, fittingly had the glassmaker Pierre de Craon say: “Making something out of light, my dear fellow, is more difficult than making things out of gold.”
Here, then, the scene does not take place in the house in Nazareth, nor in a palace, but rather… in the middle of the sky! It must be manifest that, through the Incarnation, the Kingdom of Heaven has been inaugurated on Earth. With his right hand the angel makes a gesture of blessing: He is the messenger of the Holy Trinity and speaks in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. With his left hand he unrolls a phylactery which bears the Latin inscription Ave Maria gratia plena, “Hail, Mary, full of grace,” which confirms the salutation he addressed to her verbally. Like the Virgin Mary to whom he speaks, the angel has a glorious halo; its divine rays—the color of gold—are stylized. Also stylized are his wings, which signify his mission as a messenger called to travel between heaven and earth.
Thus, there is no profusion of symbols, nor a wealth of narrative, nor even a dynamic in the depiction of this standing angel: This angel of the Annunciation does testify to the Cistercian spiritual and artistic ideal, which favors simplicity and even austerity. Of course, the master glassmaker who created it fully employs the technique and the spirit of (so-called “Gothic”) French art—and succeeds admirably in the refined elegance of the facial features and the hands—but he deliberately exercised restraint and avoided the luxuriance of the stained-glass windows in the great cathedrals in that era. And he did this in order to concentrate all his art on the unrepresentable fact signified by the angel’s message and Mary’s response:
The Word was the true Light,
which illumines every human being by coming into the world.
And the Word was made flesh,
and he made his dwelling place among us.
Pierre-Marie Dumont
Angel of the Annunciation (c. 1290–1300), Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, New York City. Photo: Public domain.
On the wall of stained-glass windows, the Annunciation is depicted in two separate panels: to the left, the Angel Gabriel, to the right the Virgin Mary. Click here to view the image of the Virgin Mary.
Click here to see the Annunciation from the catacomb of Priscilla.
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The Word Was the True Light
Le March 1, 2025
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This stained-glass window was produced at the very end of the 13th century for the Cistercian abbey in Altenberg, not far from Cologne in Germany. The Cistercian order appeared in the 11th century, as part of the dynamic of the reform promoted by Pope Gregory VII, which aimed to restore a discipline of life for clerics in keeping with Catholic doctrine and worthy of the demands of their vocation. Founded by Saint Robert of Molesme († 1110), the order experienced its most remarkable expansion at the instigation of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux († 1153) and his companions. Starting with the restoration of the Rule of Saint Benedict, it was a matter of making a commitment to monastic life on “new paths of perfection.”
Ever since the catacombs of Priscilla (around the year 200), artists who have depicted the Annunciation of the Lord have always sought to convey some aspect of the Incarnation to contemplate, even though the mystery itself cannot be depicted. They have unceasingly met this challenge by adding to the factual account of the angel’s visit a proliferation of symbols signifying what cannot be represented: the Lily, the scepter, the hourglass, the three stars, the enclosed garden (hortus conclusus), the inviolate marriage bed, the screen, the column, the books of the Old and New Testaments, the spinning wheel or the thread, the shroud, the empty chair, the springtime motif…
Here, however, the depiction of the angel is devoid of all such symbols. In its studied sobriety, it brings to light other signifiers that are more discreet but more transparent for Cistercian monks, who are experienced contemplatives. Isn’t the very light that comes through the stained-glass window welcomed by them as a manifestation of the Light born of the Light? The art of stained-glass windows, born and raised within cathedrals with Gothic vaulting, created by a theology of Light and giving rise to it, was first the art of illuminating souls by the supernatural. And so the French poet Paul Claudel, in The Announcement Made to Mary, fittingly had the glassmaker Pierre de Craon say: “Making something out of light, my dear fellow, is more difficult than making things out of gold.”
Here, then, the scene does not take place in the house in Nazareth, nor in a palace, but rather… in the middle of the sky! It must be manifest that, through the Incarnation, the Kingdom of Heaven has been inaugurated on Earth. With his right hand the angel makes a gesture of blessing: He is the messenger of the Holy Trinity and speaks in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. With his left hand he unrolls a phylactery which bears the Latin inscription Ave Maria gratia plena, “Hail, Mary, full of grace,” which confirms the salutation he addressed to her verbally. Like the Virgin Mary to whom he speaks, the angel has a glorious halo; its divine rays—the color of gold—are stylized. Also stylized are his wings, which signify his mission as a messenger called to travel between heaven and earth.
Thus, there is no profusion of symbols, nor a wealth of narrative, nor even a dynamic in the depiction of this standing angel: This angel of the Annunciation does testify to the Cistercian spiritual and artistic ideal, which favors simplicity and even austerity. Of course, the master glassmaker who created it fully employs the technique and the spirit of (so-called “Gothic”) French art—and succeeds admirably in the refined elegance of the facial features and the hands—but he deliberately exercised restraint and avoided the luxuriance of the stained-glass windows in the great cathedrals in that era. And he did this in order to concentrate all his art on the unrepresentable fact signified by the angel’s message and Mary’s response:
The Word was the true Light,
which illumines every human being by coming into the world.
And the Word was made flesh,
and he made his dwelling place among us.
Pierre-Marie Dumont
Angel of the Annunciation (c. 1290–1300), Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Cloisters Collection, New York City. Photo: Public domain.
On the wall of stained-glass windows, the Annunciation is depicted in two separate panels: to the left, the Angel Gabriel, to the right the Virgin Mary. Click here to view the image of the Virgin Mary.
Click here to see the Annunciation from the catacomb of Priscilla.
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