Seville Cathedral: Its Rich History and Stunning Architecture

A complete guide to a major part of Seville history, including La Giralda, Christopher Columbus, royal weddings and the Spanish Inquisition. 

In the heart of Seville stands a cathedral that defies simple description. Built on the ruins of a mosque, this massive Gothic masterpiece reflects the ambitions of a city eager to cement its place on the world stage.

Origins and Construction of Seville Cathedral

Seville in the late 14th century: a bustling hub of commerce and culture, still echoing with the influence of its Moorish past. The city is vibrant, filled with the sounds of merchants, artisans and the ever-present calls to prayer from the towering minaret of the Great Mosque of Seville, built during the Almohad dynasty, which dominates the skyline. 

Yet, beneath the surface, there’s a growing restlessness among the Christian rulers. They dream of an awe-inspiring structure that would not only dwarf the mosque but would also stand as a testament to the power of their piety.

In 1401, that dream begins to take shape. The city leaders, fueled by both ambition and a desire to solidify Christian dominance, gather to discuss the construction of a new cathedral. During one meeting, a church elder boldly declares, “Let us build a church so beautiful and so grand that those who see it finished will think we are mad.” 

The decision was made: Seville would build the largest cathedral in the world, a Gothic masterpiece that would leave an indelible mark on history.

The Transition From Mosque to Cathedral

But before this vision could be realized, there was the matter of the mosque. Built in the late 12th century, the Great Mosque was a symbol of Muslim rule in Seville. With its elegant arches, intricate tilework and towering minaret, it was a marvel of Islamic architecture. 

In the wake of the Reconquista, when the Christian states recaptured territory ruled by the Muslim Moors, the mosque was consecrated as a church. For over a century, it served as the city’s cathedral — but it was clear to the Christian rulers that something more magnificent was needed.

The decision was made to demolish most of the mosque, though the minaret and the Patio de los Naranjos (Courtyard of the Orange Trees) were spared, becoming integral parts of the new cathedral. This wasn’t just a practical decision but a symbolic one, blending the old with the new, and honoring the complex cultural history of Seville.

It certainly wasn’t the first time such appropriation took place. Spain in particular had a tendency to transition from mosques to churches, reflecting the shifts in power over the centuries. La Mezquita in Córdoba, with its blend of Islamic and Christian architecture, is not only one of the most striking but also the earliest example of such a transformation.  

Architectural Challenges and Triumphs

As construction began, the scale of the project quickly became apparent. The builders faced immense challenges, not least of which was the sheer size of the cathedral. 

At its peak, the construction site buzzed with hundreds of workers — stone masons, carpenters, artisans — all toiling to bring the ambitious vision to life. The air was thick with dust and the sound of chisels striking stone, as massive blocks of limestone were shaped into the soaring arches and ribbed vaults that define the Gothic style.

Key Figures in Seville Cathedral’s Creation

Behind this monumental effort were some of the most brilliant minds of the time. Master architects like Charles Galter and Alonso Martínez, among others, brought their expertise to the project. Galter, known for his work on other Gothic cathedrals in Spain, was particularly instrumental in the design of the soaring nave and the intricate stonework that adorns the exterior.

The artisans who carved the statues, the stonemasons who shaped each block, and the laborers who worked tirelessly day after day were all part of this grand endeavor. Their collective effort created something far greater than the sum of its parts.

The Grand Unveiling and Seville Cathedral’s Legacy

The construction of Seville Cathedral, or Catedral de Sevilla, took over a century to complete, with work continuing long after the original architects had passed away. But when the cathedral was finally finished in 1528, it was clear that their bold vision had been realized. When you visit the Seville Cathedral, you can only marvel at its scale, its beauty — and its audacity.

To the average Sevillano, its sheer size would have been overwhelming, a towering monument that seemed to reach up to Heaven itself. Its intricate details — gargoyles, statues of saints and other elaborate carvings — invite closer inspection, revealing new wonders at every turn.

La Giralda: From Minaret to Bell Tower 

The mosque that once stood here was the pride of the Islamic world, and its minaret — the future Giralda — was a marvel of engineering. The city’s Muslim residents would pause in their daily routines as the call to prayer echoed across the rooftops. The minaret was a spiritual beacon, guiding the faithful and asserting the dominance of Islam in the region.

It would remain a spiritual beacon — just for those of the Catholic faith now. In the 16th century, a Renaissance-style belfry was added to the top, transforming the minaret into a bell tower. 

At the very top of the tower stands El Giraldillo, a bronze statue that functions as a weathervane. This figure, representing Faith, stands with one foot firmly planted on the tower, while the other seems to step into the air, as if ready to take flight. 

Because the statue could turn with the wind, the tower itself came to be known as La Giralda, meaning “The One That Turns” or “The Spinner.”

La Giralda also plays a part in the eerie legends of Seville Cathedral, when a scorned bride-to-be cursed the bell tower and all those who dare to be unfaithful in its vicinity.

A Stage for History: Seville Cathedral’s Role in Historic Events

Royal Weddings: The Joining of Crowns and Countries

It’s October 18, 1526. The cathedral is adorned with tapestries, lit by the flickering flames of hundreds of candles. The air is filled with anticipation, as the people of Seville gather to witness the wedding of the century: the marriage of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V and Isabella of Portugal. The union of these two powerful figures promises to shape the future of Europe.

The bride and groom exchange vows beneath the towering altar, surrounded by the highest nobility of Spain and Portugal. The grandeur of the ceremony reflects the power and wealth of the Spanish empire at its height.

But this wasn’t the only royal wedding held in Seville Cathedral. Over the centuries, the cathedral has hosted numerous royal ceremonies, each one adding to its legacy as a place where the personal and the political intersect, where the fate of nations has often been decided at the altar.

The cathedral hosted the royal weddings of Philip II and Elisabeth of Valois in 1559; Philip III and Margaret of Austria in 1599; and Philip IV and Elisabeth of France in 1615, each marking significant political alliances in European history.

The Spanish Inquisition: A Dark Chapter

However, not all of the cathedral’s historical events were moments of celebration. The Spanish Inquisition, a dark chapter in the country’s history, also left its dubious mark on Seville Cathedral. During this time, the cathedral served as a setting for the public sentencing of those accused of heresy, events known as autos-da-fé (Portuguese for “acts of faith” — a euphemism if there ever was one). 

Picture it: The cathedral, normally a place of worship and reflection, is transformed into a courtroom. The accused, dressed in penitential robes, stand before the altar, their fates hanging in the balance. The atmosphere is tense, as the Inquisitors pass judgment in the name of religious purity. 

The results were horrific: Over 700 people were burned at the stake, and more than 5,000 others faced imprisonment, forced penance and the stripping away of their social status. 

These grim proceedings unfolded in public spectacles where fear and fanaticism reigned supreme, forever marking Seville as a place where religious zealotry took its darkest form.  

A Witness to the New World: Columbus and the Age of Exploration

Seville Cathedral also played a significant role during the Age of Exploration, when Spain was at the forefront of colonizing the Americas. The cathedral was the site of numerous ceremonies celebrating the successes of explorers like Columbus, whose voyages expanded the Spanish empire and brought immense wealth and influence to the crown.

One of the most poignant moments in this history occurred in 1502, when Columbus, known locally as Cristóbal Colón, then an old man, attended a mass at Seville Cathedral before departing on his fourth and final voyage to the Americas. 

Standing in the very same spot, you can almost imagine Columbus, weary yet resolute, contemplating the journey ahead. The cathedral, with its vastness and grandeur, must have seemed like a fitting place to seek divine favor before embarking on such a perilous and uncertain journey.

Semana Santa in Seville 

During Semana Santa, or Holy Week, in Seville, the streets fill with processions led by hooded nazarenos from various brotherhoods. Dressed in long robes and creepy pointed hoods known as capirotes that cover their faces, they carry candles or crosses in solemn silence. The color of their robes — black, purple, white, red or green — reflects the symbolism of their brotherhood. Massive, ornate floats (pasos) depicting scenes from the Passion of Christ or the sorrowful Virgin Mary are carried through the streets, held up by hidden penitents called costaleros. The air is filled with the sounds of traditional music or the haunting cry of a saeta, a flamenco-style song, creating a deeply spiritual atmosphere.

The processions begin and end at the cathedral, reinforcing its status as the spiritual heart of Seville. 

A Beacon of Resilience: Surviving Earthquakes and Wars

Seville Cathedral’s history is also a story of resilience. Over the centuries, it has withstood natural disasters and human conflicts that have threatened its very existence. One of the most significant of these was the 1755 Lisbon earthquake, which caused widespread devastation across Portugal and Spain. The cathedral suffered considerable damage, with sections of its roof collapsing and the Giralda tower sustaining cracks. 

Yet, the cathedral was repaired and restored, standing as a testament to the city’s determination to preserve its cultural treasures.

Then, during the Spanish Civil War, the cathedral was once again at risk. The conflict saw many religious buildings across Spain looted or destroyed — but Seville Cathedral was spared, thanks in part to the efforts of local citizens who recognized its importance to their heritage. 

A UNESCO World Heritage Site: Acknowledging Its Global Importance

In 1987, Seville Cathedral was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, alongside the Alcázar palace complex and the General Archive of the Indies. This prestigious recognition is a testament to the cathedral’s global significance.

As a UNESCO site, Seville Cathedral is recognized for its architectural splendor, its historical importance and its role as a center of cultural heritage. The designation also brings with it a commitment to preservation, ensuring that future generations will be able to experience the cathedral’s beauty and history as we do today. The recognition has helped to elevate the cathedral’s status on the world stage, attracting visitors from every corner of the globe who come to marvel at its grandeur and delve into its rich history.

A Symbol of the City

Today, the cathedral stands as a symbol of the resilience and enduring spirit of Seville, a city that has weathered the storms of history, adapted while honoring its past, and emerged stronger each time. –Wally

Angels, Demons, Leviathan and Other Monsters in the Bible

Our glossary of New and Old Testament creatures from God’s Monsters by Esther Hamori reveals some shocking surprises. Did angels actually have wings? How are cherubs described? You won’t believe the answers!

Those who take the Bible literally must believe in monsters — the Old Testament especially is filled with them. And in almost every case, they’re working for God.

“The biblical world is full of monsters,” writes Esther J. Hamori in her 2023 book, God’s Monsters: Vengeful Spirits, Deadly Angels, Hybrid Creatures and Divine Hitmen of the Bible. “Uncanny creatures lurk in every direction, from the hybrid monsters surrounding God in heaven to the stunning array of peculiar beings touching down on earth, and from giants in the land of milk and honey to Leviathan swimming beneath the seas. Most have been tamed by time and tradition.”

When you dig into the stories of the Old Testament, a horrifying revelation takes place. This God isn’t a loving god; in fact, he’s a major dick. Time after time, God unleashes his monsters to slaughter humans — and even his Chosen People aren’t safe from his wrath.

“Nowhere in the Bible are angels said to have wings.”

“God is surrounded by bizarre, monstrous creatures, and they commit remarkably violent acts on his command,” Hamori says.

Disclaimer: The findings put forth in this post are those of Hamori, not me. Please don’t kill the messenger. 

New and Old Testament Monsters Guide

Abaddon

What its name means: A word for the abyss or place of destruction (essentially Hell)

What it looks like: He’s not described, though he’s called the Angel of the Abyss.

What it does: He’s the one who brings forth horrific monsters with iron-like locust bodies, human faces, women’s hair, lion’s teeth and scorpion tails during the Apocalypse (Revelation 9:1-11).

angel

“Among the many monstrous creatures in the biblical heavens, angels are the most like us,” Hamori writes. “They’re the most human of monsters, not just in their sometimes-anthropomorphic appearance, but in their characters. They’re the best of it all and the worst, the most benevolent and the most brutal.”

What its name means: From the Greek word for messenger.

What it looks like: Most of the time, angels are described as looking like humans. And keep in mind, Hamori says, that they’re not White; they’d look like the people of the region — that is, Middle Eastern.

One aspect that’s never mentioned? Nowhere in the Bible are angels said to have wings.

They’re shapeshifters, taking other forms now and then. In Daniel 10:5-8, an angel is described as having a body like a gemstone, arms and legs like burnished bronze, a face like lightning and eyes like flaming torches. And the angel who led the Israelites through the desert appeared as a pillar of smoke during the day and a pillar of fire at night.

What it does: Most of the time, angels scare people, even when they come in peace. They tell Mary she’s going to give birth to God’s son, save Hagar and her son, Ishmael, and guard the Israelites during the Exodus. 

But they’re not always so benign. They’re also God’s warriors. One angel slaughters 185,000 Assyrians while they sleep. When Herod Agrippa is greeted like a god by the people, an angel strikes him down. He’s eaten by worms and then dies. “Not the other way around,” Hamori points out (Acts 12: 21-23).

And then there are the angels from the book of Revelation. At the end of the world, they’ll be throwing people into the fires of Hell for eternal punishment, and they’ll unleash hail and fire mixed with blood, throw a fiery mountain into the sea, poison the Earth’s freshwater, darken the sun, moon and stars, and unleash hybrid locust monsters.

See also: The Destroying Angel, the Destroyer

Azazel

What its name means: His name basically means The Goat That Departs.

What it looks like: Not sure

What it does: A goat (i.e., scapegoat) is designated “for Azazel” and carries off the burden of the people’s sins (Leviticus 16:8-10). (Sounds a bit like Jesus, doesn’t it?)

cherub / cherubim (plural)

“Like so many biblical monsters, the cherubim have been tamed over the centuries,” Hamori writes. “Their case is especially severe: They’ve been literally infantilized. Cherubim are imagined now as happy, fat angel babies. To the writers of the Bible, this image would be unrecognizable. They knew cherubim as something far more beastly, and far less friendly.”

What its name means: The Hebrew word is related to an Akkadian term for a type of hybrid monster.

What it looks like: This is where it gets confusing. They’re never clearly described in the Bible, though it’s thought they could be related to other guardian hybrids, like the lamassu of Assyria: winged lions or bulls with human heads.

But then there are the cherubim the prophet Ezekiel saw in a vision: “Their bodies appear humanoid, but they have four wings, straight legs with the hooves of a calf, and under their wings, human hands. Each cherub has four faces: those of a human being, a lion, an ox and an eagle,” Hamori writes. “But when he sees them again later, the four faces are those of a cherub, a human being, a lion and an eagle.”

So what exactly is the face of a cherub? Something indescribable? Or the four faces originally seen? If that sounds too bizarre to even consider, things get even more psychedelic: Their bodies sparkle like bronze, entirely covered with eyes and morphing to become a living chariot to carry God. 

And then they show up in the book of Revelations, which is one batshit crazy hallucination after another. The cherubim here still have four faces (though this time they’re of a lion, calf, human and eagle), and they’re still covered with eyes. But now they have six wings as well as hands, which they use to hold harps and golden bowls “full of the wrath of God” (Revelation 5:8-9; 15:7). 

What it does: They’re God’s bouncers, bodyguards and getaway drivers, Hamori tells us. God stationed cherubim at the gates of Eden to prevent Adam and Eve from reentering paradise. Statues of cherubim are also put to work guarding the Ark of the Covenant, where God resides on earth. (They seem a bit superfluous, since the ark, stolen by the Philistines, destroyed a statue of Dagon, one of the gods of the Old Testament, all by itself.)

As a chariot in Ezekiel’s vision, the cherubim flap their wings, which make a deafening noise. They’re fond of singing hymns and praising God. They also hand over the coals God uses to burn down Jerusalem. 

demon

In the Old Testament, demons are called upon to do some of God’s dirty work — though they’re not nearly as bloodthirsty as angels. “By the New Testament period, demons are definitively associated with Satan and are fully excised from the divine entourage,” Hamori writes. “God has banished his demons.”

What its name means: From Greek, describing an evil or unclean spirit

What it looks like: As vivid as later depictions of demons as hybrid horrors are, they’re glossed over in the Bible.

What it does: “If angels are the most like us, demons are the least,” Hamori writes. “They exist to cause harm. In the Hebrew Bible, they often take the form of plague, pestilence and disease. In the Gospels, an embarrassment of demons causes all manner of illness and disability.”

The Destroyer

What its name means: From a Hebrew word meaning “the Destroyer”

What it looks like: No description in the Bible

What it does: The Destroyer is the angel that murders all of the unprotected firstborn children in Egypt on God’s behalf during the 10th plague.

The Destroying Angel

What its name means: Pretty self-evident

What it looks like: A giant filling the sky, with a massive sword drawn

What it does: Don’t confuse this guy with the Destroyer, though they’re both capable of mass murder. 

giant

What its name means: Giant has an obvious translation, but the ancient Israelites used the name of one group of rivals, the Rephaim, as a generic term for giants.

What it looks like:  The bed of King Og, ruler of the Rephaim, gives us a clue as to their size: It’s 13.5 feet long and 6 feet wide. And the infamous Philistine warrior Goliath came in at over 9.5 feet tall.

What it does: They live in Canaan, a place where the people have been monsterized, turned into supersized cannibals. And so, in turn, they’re described as dehumanized foreigners (never mind that they were actually the indigenous inhabitants) that are “giants to be slain, food to be eaten, and animals to be killed,” Hamori writes.

Leviathan

What its name means: Coming from a Hebrew word, the name means something like the Twisted or Coiled One.

What it looks like: The primordial sea monster’s form is somewhat left to the imagination, though we get this description in Job:

His sneezes flash forth light; his eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn. 
Out of his mouth go flaming torches; sparks of fire escape! 
Out of his nostrils comes smoke, like a basket with bulrushes ablaze.
His breath could kindle coals; flames come out of his mouth. 
In his neck lodges strength; terror dances before him. 
The folds of his flesh cleave together, hard-cast and immovable.
His chest is hard as a rock, hard as the bottom grinding stone.
When he rises up, gods fear! at the crashing, they are beside themselves. (Job 41:18-25)

The beast evolves dramatically in the book of Revelation, becoming a giant red dragon with seven heads.

What it does: “The sea monster is God’s forever foe, fought and slain in days already ancient to the biblical writers but promising to resurface for another round, destined to be slain again in the most distant future,” Hamori writes.

Psalm 104:26 has a different take: It mentions Leviathan, declaring: “whom you formed in order to play with him.” Is this eternal battle with Leviathan just a game to God? 

Job once more has the most poetic descriptions of Leviathan: 

A sword reaching him will not endure, nor spear, dart or javelin.
He thinks of iron as straw, and bronze as rotten wood.
The arrow cannot make him flee; sling-stones become chaff to him. 
Clubs are reckoned as chaff; he laughs at the shaking of javelins. 

His underparts are like the sharpest of potsherds; he crawls like a threshing sledge in the mud.
He makes the deep boil like a cauldron; he makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
Behind him, he leaves a shining wake; one would think the deep to be white-haired. 
He has no equal upon the earth, a created thing without fear. 
He looks upon everything lofty, he is king over all the proud. (Job 41:12-34)

Mavet (aka Death)

What its name means: Death

What it looks like: He has an enormous mouth to feed his rapacious appetite.

What it does: “Mavet has come up through our windows, he has come into our palaces, to exterminate the children from the streets, the young men from the town squares” (Jeremiah 9:21). 

But you know him better as the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse: He’s the last to come, riding a pale horse. His mission? Kill one-quarter of the Earth’s population.

nephilim

What its name means: The word may mean something like “monstrous births.” It has to do with falling and is used to describe fetuses that are “fallen” — that is, miscarried. 

What it looks like: Hybrids who are the offspring of the daughters of men raped by the sons of God (lower-level divine beings, and not angels, Hamori points out). In one mention in Genesis, the nephilim are also described as giants.

What it does: The name is used to describe an ethnic group of “mighty men” from the land of Canaan.

See also: giant

Qetev

What its name means: Scholars aren’t sure and have translated it in a variety of ways, including Destruction or the Sting.

What it looks like: No description provided

What it does: In one story, he’s a destructive force of nature: “a whirlwind of Qetev, like a storm of mighty overflowing water he hurls down to the earth with his hand” (Isaiah 28:2).

Resheph (aka Plague)

What its name means: We’re not sure, though it’s most often translated as Plague.

What it looks like: Outside of the Bible, he’s a god who shoots poisonous flaming arrows.

What it does: He liked to use fire and lightning to kill people at God’s behest.

Satan (aka the Adversary)

What its name means: Satan is the Hebrew word for adversary.

What it looks like: Forget the red skin, horns, cloven hooves and tail. There’s no real description of the adversary in the Bible. 

Adversaries can make themselves invisible, though (just not to donkeys, apparently).

What it does: The prophet Balaam was doing what God asked him to do — and yet he got a sword-wielding angel called a satan sent to murder him. 

Tip: Ride a donkey. Somehow the donkey, not known as the fastest or most agile of beasts, evades the satan’s attack not once but three times. 

It’s in the story of Job that things take a much darker turn. God and the Adversary (now capital A, in his official role as prosecutor in the heavenly court) decide to punish another innocent man, this time to see if he wavers in his faith to God. It’s some sort of sadistic experiment. 

So, the Adversary summarily kills all of Job’s livestock and most of his servants. As if that’s not enough, he then sends a windstorm to blow down a house, which collapses, crushing all 10 of Job’s kids to death. Oh, and then they throw in some torture for good measure. Job’s body is covered with painful boils from head to foot.

seraph / seraphim (plural)

Much more impressive than their snakelike cousins, seraphim are mentioned in a vision the prophet Isaiah has, where he sees the giant form of God sitting on a throne in the Jerusalem Temple. He’s surrounded by seraphim calling out, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Armies!” (Isaiah 6:3).

What its name means:  The Hebrew word suggests burning; essentially these are “burners.”

Keep in mind that “all translation is interpretation,” Hamori writes. “In this case, translators decide that Isaiah’s heavenly seraphim are unrelated to the deadly seraphim-serpents in other texts — and so they leave the Hebrew word seraphim untranslated only in Isaiah 6. Readers then have the impression that these creatures are unconnected.”

What it looks like: They have six wings. In Isaiah’s vision, two cover their faces; two cover their feet (a euphemism for genitals in the Bible); and two are used to fly. They’ve also got humanoid hands and feet, as well the body of a snake.

What it does: Isaiah stupidly mentions that his lips are “unclean” — so a seraph takes a burning coal and shoves it on his mouth. After performing this horrifying act, “the seraph explains the logic of this assault,” Hamori writes. “It’s to get rid of Isaiah’s sin.”

seraph-serpent / seraphim-serpents (plural)

During the Exodus, the wandering Jews couldn’t catch a break. After they had suffered from dehydration and disease, God sicced a swarm of poisonous snakes called seraphim-serpents on them (Numbers 21:4-9).

What its name means: Again, the Hebrew word roughly translates to “burners.”

What it looks like: This is a much less intense version of the heavenly seraphim. It’s a deadly snake with a bite of burning poison.

What it does: Kill numerous people with its lethal venom. Tip: To cure those who haven’t yet succumbed to the agonizing pain, create a seraph (Moses made his out of bronze), put it on a pole — and, in a bit of sympathetic magic, when the inflicted look upon it, they’ll be miraculously cured. 

spirit

What its name means: The Hebrew word for spirit is ruah, which also means wind or breath.

What it looks like: In 1 Kings, a “spirit — which you’d think by definition, should be disembodied — comes forward from the group and stands before God,” Hamori writes. “It’s only when the spirit crosses into the human realm that it shapeshifts, as if disintegrating into myriad invisible particles that can enter the mouths of four hundred prophets.”

What it does: In 1 Samuel, we learn why Saul gets rejected by God. He’s told to slaughter every last Amalekite — but Saul has the gaul to spare one single life: that of the king. For this, he’s abandoned by God, who chooses David instead. The merciful Saul is punished, “tormented by an evil spirit that ravages his mind, sending him into fits of frenzied violence,” Hamori writes.

When they’re not driving people insane, God’s evil spirits also sow discord, as one does with Sennacherib: “I will put a spirit in him and he will hear a rumor, and he will return to his land and I will make him fall by the sword of his own hand,” God says in 2 Kings 19:6-7. (Sure enough, the king heads home — and is promptly murdered by his sons.)

Is God the Real Monster?

Esther J. Hamori’s book God's Monsters challenges the sanitized interpretations of biblical creatures and forces us to confront a more terrifying and complex vision of God. 

“We’ve seen this God do bad, bad things,” Hamori writes. “He rarely does his own dirty work, instead deploying an array of monstrous creatures to get the job done, and always just the right monster for the moment: seraphim to threaten and intimidate people into submission, cherubim to guard the gateways and periodically to burn down portions of the earth and usher in divine destroyers, the Adversary to condemn and torture the innocent, spirits to gaslight, demons to destroy, and for a good old-fashioned slaying, perhaps an angel (if the angels aren’t too busy dragging people to hell or murdering masses of the earth’s population.”

The God of the Old Testament has long been understood to be a more angry, vengeful and even petty deity, especially when contrasted with the more compassionate figure of the New Testament. But the harsher aspects of God’s character have been whitewashed over time, likely because they make people uncomfortable. Hamori presents God not as a benevolent figure but one who commands a terrifying and violent entourage to enforce his will. In many ways, that makes him the biggest monster of all. –Wally

Descriptions of God’s Body in the Bible

From his massive member to a horned head, there are plenty of references to God having a corporal body in the Old Testament. Some shocking findings from “God: An Anatomy.”

Perhaps the most famous depiction of God is this detail of the Creation of Adam, painted by Michelangelo on ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

What does God look like? 

Most people nowadays probably fall into two camps: those who say God is incorporeal, an entity without form — and those who imagine him as Michelangelo painted him, a powerful if elderly man with a flowing white beard and a penchant for long white robes.  

Those who think of God as bodiless haven’t paid enough attention to their Old Testament, though. In fact, the first clue is right there…in the beginning.

“So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Genesis 1:27). 

That means God is humanlike — or should I say, humans are godlike?

It’s not so strange that God had a body. All his fellow gods did, from his competition in the Middle East to the pantheons of Ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome. 

Add up all the descriptions of God in the Old Testament, and you get a red-skinned, powerfully built older man.

So what does he look like? Take all the Old Testament mentions of God, add them together and here’s what you get, according to Francesca Stavrakopoulou in her 2022 book God: An Anatomy:

A supersized, human-shaped body with male features and shining, ruddy-red skin, tinged with the smell of rainclouds and incense. His broad legs suggest he was accustomed not only to straining, leaping and marching, but sitting and standing resolutely stiff, posing like a ceremonial statue. His biceps bulge. His forearms are hard as iron. There are faint indentations around his big toes, left by thonged sandals. Beneath his toenails there are traces of human blood, as though he has been trampling on broken bodies, while the remnants of fragrant grass around his ankles suggest strolls through a verdant garden. The slightly lighter tone of the skin on his thighs indicates he was most often clothed, at least down to his knees, if not his ankles. Minute fibers of fine fabric — a costly linen and wool mix — indicate that his clothing was similar to the vestments of high-status priests. His penis is long, thick and carefully circumcised; his testicles are heavy with semen. His stomach is swollen with spiced meat, bread, beer and wine. The chambers of his heart are deep and wide. His fingers are stained with an expensive ink, and there are remnants of clay under his fingernails. On his arms are faint scars left from the grazes of giant fish-scales, and the crooks of his elbows, slightly sticky with a salty oil, bear the imprint of swaddling bands, suggesting he has cradled newborn babies. Traces of the tannery fluid used by hide-workers wind in a stripe around his left arm and down to the palm of his hand — a residual substance left by a long leather tefillin strap.

His thick hair is oiled with a sweet-smelling ointment, and shows evidence of careful styling: the hair-shafts suggest it was once separated and curled into thick ropes, while slight marks on the back of his scalp indicate it has been partly pinned beneath some sort of headgear, and his forehead is marked with the faint impression of a tight band of metal. Although his beard reaches beneath his chin, it has been neatly groomed, while his mustache and eyebrows are thick and tidy. The hair on his head and face shimmers — first dark with blue hues, like lapis lazuli, then white and bright, like fresh snow. And one glance, he has the beard of his aged father, the ancient Levantine god El; in another, it is the stylized beard of a youthful warrior, like the deity Baal. His ears are prominent, and their lobes are pierced. His eyes are thickly lined with kohl. His nose is long, its nostrils broad — the scent of burnt animal flesh and fragrant incense lingers inside them. His lips are full and fleshy, his mouth large and wide. It is at once the mouth of a devourer and a lover. His teeth are strong and sharp, his tongue is red hot. His saliva is charged with a blistering heat. The back of his throat is a vast, airy chamber, once humming with life. Below it is an opening of a cavernous gullet. Shadowy scraps of another powerful being, the dusty underworld king, cling to its walls.

The depictions of Yahweh in the Bible are disparate, but some common themes emerge.

Quite a picture, eh? All these details appear in various books of the Old Testament. Here’s a sampling.

God liked to walk in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve … before they dared to eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Walking and Talking With God

Later in Genesis, Adam and Eve have eaten of the forbidden fruit and hide from God when they hear him “walking in the garden.”

Enoch, Noah and Abraham go for walks with God as well — as did Moses. Sure, God showed up as a burning bush when they first met, but after that, “the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend” (Exodus 33:11). 

Yahweh first showed himself as a burning bush to Moses, but after a while they became good friends and would often take walks together.

Holy Shit! God’s Ground Rules 

With all that walking, God had to be careful he didn’t step in something unpleasant. 

When the Israelites flee Egypt en route to the Promised Land during the Exodus, God declares, “You shall have a designated area outside the camp to which you shall go; with your utensils you shall have a trowel; when you relieve yourself outside, you shall dig a  hole with it and then cover up your excrement, because Yahweh your God walks in your camp” (Deuteronomy 23:12-14). 

Apparently his omniscience doesn’t extend to knowing how to avoid excrement. It’s heartening to know that God steps in shit just like we do. 

The prophet Ezekiel saw God in a chariot supported by hybrid heavenly creatures.

The Cherubim Chariot 

After the Babylonians destroyed and plundered the Temple, the worshippers of Yahweh surely wondered if their god had also been vanquished. So the book of Ezekiel offers up a scene of Yahweh’s escape. He is seated on his supersized throne, using the Ark of the Covenant as his footstool (!). Cherubim (not the chubby baby angels you’re thinking of but four-winged celestial beings with four faces — that of a man, lion, eagle and cherub) perch upon wheels and bear the throne aloft. 

You didn’t want to be on Yahweh’s bad side; he was prone to violent reactions — including stomping people to death.

God’s Stomping Grounds

But God doesn’t only walk and rest his feet. Sometimes he goes on a murderous rampage. Yahweh marches back from a massacre in the enemy kingdom of Edom: “I trampled down peoples in my anger, I crushed them in my wrath, and I poured out their life blood on the earth,” he tells a sentry in Isaiah 63:6. 

“This is a god who has felt the crunch of bones and skulls under his feet; the warm, wet mulch of human flesh around his ankles; the heart spray of blood on his legs,” Stavrakopoulou writes.

In Isaiah’s vision of God, is that a massive robe filling the Temple — or something more phallic?

God’s Genitals on Display

A couple of prophets even boasted of seeing God’s oversized genitals — and yes, this is all in the Bible. Isaiah, in the middle of the 8th century BCE, entered the inner sanctum of the Jerusalem Temple, where he beheld a surprising sight. 

“My eyes have seen the King, Yahweh of Hosts!” the prophet declares in Isaiah 6:1. “I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, tall and lofty! His lower extremities filled the temple!”

But the Hebrew word he used for “lower extremities” was shul, which actually means “genitals,” Stavrakopoulou informs us. (It’s worth pointing out that many scholars argue that the word actually means the hem of a robe.)

So Isaiah is saying he saw God naked — and, um, let’s just say he was impressed. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised to learn that God’s hung. 

Another prophet, Ezekiel, describes a much stranger encounter: He sees God and focuses on what “looked to be his motnayim” — another Hebrew word for genitals, Stavrakopoulou writes. He looks above and below and sees the rest of the Lord’s body engulfed in flames (Ezekiel 1:27). 

I’m not sure why Ezekiel seems hesitant about if he’s looking at God’s groin or not — perhaps all that fire is blinding him a bit — but heavens knows Isaiah had no doubts about what he was seeing. 

The Ancient Egyptian god Min was usually depicted as having a massive erection.

‘The Imposing Erect Virility’ of the Gods

As shocking as this might seem, depictions and stories of gods having erections were common at the time these Bible books were written. A carving of the Egyptian god Min at Luxor Temple, for example, shows the fertility deity with a massive hard-on as he greets Alexander the Great. 

“In the ancient cultures of southwest Asia [Stavrakopoulou’s non-Western-centric terminology for the Middle East], a sizable penis, and even its occasional overt exhibition, did not render male deities less godly, but appropriately divine. The imposing erect virility of masculine gods was vividly celebrated in these ancient societies and the religious literature they produced,” Stavrakopoulou writes. “[T]he penises of ancient southwest Asian gods embodied a conspicuous and powerful hyper-masculinity deemed essential to the ordering, fruitfulness and well-being of the cosmos and its inhabitants.”

Cain, who killed his brother, Abel, might have been God’s son, not Adam’s!

Cain’s Baby Daddy Isn’t Adam…But God?!

Most of us assume that Adam and Eve had children — but if you look at the Bible, Eve declares that Cain at least was actually the offspring of her and God: “I have procreated with Yahweh!” she shouts in Genesis 4:1. 

“The more literal translation of the Hebrew is rarely seen,” Stavrakopoulou writes. “Most renderings of this verse default to a theologically fudged interpretation, so that Eve is merely presented as claiming that Yahweh has ‘helped’ her to ‘acquire a man,’ as any good fertility god might.”

Yahweh, like the Greek gods, who had sex with many unwilling women, could be prone to lust.

God as a Sexual Predator 

In the book of Hosea, God not only has a body — he actually gets it on with a young woman who’s the personification of Israel. 

“Here, Israel is a capricious teenager whose sexual allure so intoxicates God, he falls to scheming obsessively and possessively to make her his wife,” Stavrakopoulou writes. “‘I will take her walking into the wilderness and speak to her heart … and there she will cry out.’ 

“These words betray more than the romantic fantasy of a love-struck deity,” she continues. “God’s language here marks a shift from passion to threat: In claiming he will ‘seduce’ her, he uses a Hebrew expression more usually employed in the Bible to describe the rape of captive women.”

This idea of God as a sexual predator — or even just a sexual being — has been problematic for centuries, and that’s certainly true with our current sensibilities. 

“Theologically, the sexual grooming and graphic violence God inflicts on his young wife is immensely difficult for some modern-day believers to reconcile with their idealized constructs of God,” Stavrakopoulou says. “But for many Jewish and Christian readers, it is more specifically the graphic portrayal of a sexually actively deity that has proved unbearable: It has been mistranslated, dismissed as ‘mere’ allegory, or simply ignored.”

Foreign books are immensely dependent upon their translations — all the more essential for the Bible, a book so many people take literally. That’s what makes this softening of the original message so alarming. 

“In standard modern translations of the Tanakh [the Hebrew Bible] and the Christian Bible, the graphic sexual imagery of these troubling texts is softened or obscured with sanitized vocabulary and clunky euphemisms,” Stavrakopoulou writes. 

Yahweh knew Moses couldn’t handle seeing him all in his glory — so he offered just a peek of his cheeks.

God Shows Moses His Glorious Backside 

Up on Mount Sinai, Moses asks God to reveal himself: “How shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people?” he asks in Exodus 33:16-18. “Please, show me your Glory.”

But God says that Moses can’t handle his awesomeness — he’ll only allow him to see his backside. It’s the same term used elsewhere in the Bible to describe the buttocks of an animal, according to Stavrakopoulou. 

God adds that no mortal could gaze upon his face and live. “In its narrative context, it is a capricious assertion, for Yahweh and Moses have already enjoyed a number of conversations ‘face to face’ — and Moses has survived,” Stavrakopoulou points out. 

Like other deities of the Middle East, Yahweh’s body is engulfed in a dazzling aura: He is “wrapped in light as with a garment” and “clothed with glory and splendor.” 

It’s all too easy to think of these descriptions as hyperbolic — but they’re meant to be taken literally, Stavrakopoulou asserts. 

Whether they were literal or beams of light, Moses came back from a convo with God bearing horns.

The Glory of God Makes Moses Horny

“In Exodus, however, God’s luminescent backside clearly gives off something more powerful than a wondrous afterglow. When Moses finally descends from the Holy Mountain, clutching the Ten Commandments, his own face is startlingly transformed,” Stavrakopoulou writes. “But quite how is a matter of some debate, for the ancient Semitic root of the Hebrew term used to describe this transformation probably means ‘horn,’ but is also associated with light. The earliest translations of this peculiar story indicate that, from at least the 3rd century BCE, Moses was understood to have developed horn-like rays of light, so that his face beamed with a divine radiance. Other ancient scholars would assume Moses’ face literally grew horns — a symbol of the divine elsewhere in the Bible — giving rise to startling medieval images of Moses as a double-horned being. Either way, Moses undergoes a bodily transformation so profound that the Israelites cannot look him in the face and are afraid to go near him. Moses’ visual encounter with God has left its mark on him, rendering him more divine than human.”

Poor Moses never entered the Promised Land — but was it God who took the care to bury him?

God the Gravedigger

Moses seems to have been the Old Testament character with the most face time with God. And that lasted right up until the moment of his death. The poor guy — being a favorite of Yahweh doesn’t get you much. Moses dramatically led the exodus of escaped Israelite slaves out of Egypt, delivered the Ten Commandments and wandered the desert for 40 years. Finally, the time has come to enter the Promised Land. But, in a shocking twist, God shows Moses the beautiful sight of their hard-earned payoff — and then tells him to literally drop dead: “Moses, the servant of Yahweh, died there in the land of Moab, at Yahweh’s command. And he buried him in the valley in the land of Moab” (Deuteronomy 34:5-6). 

“In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses’ gravedigger is God himself,” Stavrakopoulou writes. “Appalled by the idea that God could contaminate himself with the impurity of a corpse — even the corpse of so holy a man as Moses — some Jewish and Christian translators corrected what they perceived to be an error in the text: ‘he buried him’ simply became ‘he was buried’ or ‘they buried him,’ leaving generations of readers to assume that mourning Israelites or weeping angels had performed Moses’ mortuary rites, rather than God himself.”

Baal, one of Yahweh’s biggest rivals in the ancient Middle East

God Gets Horny

It’s an image that wouldn’t sit well with most modern Christians or Jews — especially given its connections to the Devil and demons — but one of the earliest descriptions of God describes him as having horns. “God, who brought [Israel] out of Egypt, has horns like a wild ox!” the prophet Balaam declares in Numbers 23:22. 

“In the Western imagination, a horned being tends to conjure images of the diabolical, and the grotesque. From the man-eating bull-headed Minotaur of Greek myth to the cloven-hooved goat-faced Devil of Christianity, horns have long served as a hallmark of horror,” Stavrakopoulou writes. “But in the world of the very ancient gods, horns were the most prestigious and alluring manifestations of divinity, and most deities would be equipped with them.”

Horns were a sign of power, designating that the gods who sported them “were beings of bullish virility and ferocious strength,” Stavrakopoulou explains. 

There’s a horrific description of a fiery God — right before he gobbles up a roasted king of Assyria.

The Nose Knows: God’s Wrath and a Kingly BBQ

“The God of the Bible was particularly proud of his nose,” Stavrakopoulou tells us. “In his lengthy monologue on Mount Sinai, he reels off a list of his best qualities, not only describing himself as merciful, gracious and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, but ‘long-nosed,’ too.” 

This is a way of saying he has deep nostrils, she says — meaning slower breathing, and by extension, being patient and slow to anger. 

But once that temper raged, you didn’t want to be anywhere near him. 

In the book of Isaiah, a seer spies Yahweh in the distance, his nose ablaze, “his lips full of fury, his tongue a devouring fire; his breath an overflowing stream, reaching up to the neck!” (Isaiah 30:27-28). 

What’s God up to? Oh, just sacrificing an Assyrian king upon a pyre and feasting on his charred corpse.

The ancient Levantine deity El

The Ancient Almighty: God’s Golden Years 

Our current image of God as a powerful older man comes from a portrayal in Daniel 7:9-10 from the 2nd century BCE. As Stavrakopoulou states, “God himself remains a picture of perpetual purity: Enthroned, in fiery splendor, and surrounded by thousands of divine courtiers, he is called ‘an Ancient of Days,’ dressed in robes ‘white as snow,’ with hair ‘like a lamb’s wool.’”

Again, this iconography is borrowed from neighboring deities, including El, whom Stavrakopoulou describes as Yahweh’s father — before Yahweh was retrofitted as the sole true god. El’s (and Yahweh’s) gray hair and beard were seen as signs of immortality and wisdom. 

Unseen and Unsculpted: The Theological Dance Around God’s Corporality

When thinking about this article, I realized something that shocked me: While I’ve seen a few paintings of God — Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel depiction of God (looking suspiciously like Zeus) reaching out to Adam springs to mind — I couldn’t think of a single sculpture of him.

Part of this is due to the fact that the mentions of God as having a body in the Bible make many Christians uncomfortable. They want the only depiction of God as corporeal to be that of Jesus. 

“Those troublesome verses in the scriptures attesting to God’s body would be smoothed, smothered or superseded by new interpretive frameworks and some fancy philosophical footwork,” Stavrakopoulou writes. “A favorite tactic employed by early Christian theologians was simply to reduce all biblical references to God’s body to the symbolic.” 

Even further back than that, after the Jerusalem Temple had been rebuilt in the 5th century BCE, Yahweh’s worshippers understood all too well the vulnerability and lack of transcendence of a corporeal god. 

It was around this time one of the Ten Commandments became “You shall not make for yourself a carved image.”

Once a vividly described giant, God lost his body. 

Are there few statues of God because one of the Ten Commandments forbids “carved images”?

And therein lies the main controversy around God: An Anatomy. The book has ignited a theological firestorm, dragging Yahweh off his lofty pedestal and into the gritty, grimy realm of human physicality. Some scholars are applauding Stavrakopoulou’s daring approach, while others are reaching for the nearest exorcism manual.

Biblical scholar Joel Edmund Anderson isn’t holding back. On his blog, Resurrecting Orthodoxy, he accuses Stavrakopoulou of having a “tin ear to the literary artistry and nuance of the biblical texts,” arguing that her interpretations are overly literal and lack proper contextual grounding. 

So, even though many Christians believe everything in the Bible to be literal, they prefer to skip over references to God’s form — it’s all too close to those pagan deities. Team Symbolic has won out; no one really talks too much about God’s body nowadays. It seems that the divine anatomy lesson is one lecture most would rather miss. –Wally

Artistic Depictions of the Virgin Mary: The Surprising Origins of Marian Iconography

The enigmatic allure of the Virgin Mary: From divine purity to unsettling symbolism, we explore the captivating myths and enduring appeal of the original Madonna. 

The Virgin Mary takes many guises in art over the centuries, from Queen of Heaven to the Sorrowful Mother whose tears have miraculous properities.

In art, God is often portrayed as an ancient, white-bearded man in flowing robes, a benevolent figure who watches over humanity from on high. Jesus, meanwhile, is typically depicted in various key moments from his life, such as his birth, crucifixion and resurrection. He walks on water and performs other miracles and has his Last Supper. 

But the Virgin Mary is a complex and enigmatic figure who wears many guises. Often cloaked in modesty, she’s seen as a symbol of hope, love and sacrifice. She’s portrayed as the ultimate role model for Christian women, the daughter of God, the bride of her own son and a regal queen. Her story is a richly woven tapestry of myths and symbols, each thread imbued with meanings that have been interpreted in countless ways throughout history.

As we delve into the realm of religious art and symbolism, we find her as a fertility goddess known as the Black Madonna, along with a loving mother whose tears and breast milk have magical healing powers. Amid the varied representations through the centuries, one thing remains certain: Mary’s enduring appeal as a divine figure. 

Mary, Queen of Heaven by the Master of the Saint Lucy Legend, circa 1495

Maria Regina: Queen of Heaven

Mary, the paragon of purity, couldn’t be left to rot in the grave like a mere mortal. So, the early Church fathers devised a bold solution: They declared that she had been taken up to Heaven in an event known as the Assumption, where she now reigns as a celestial queen. 

Popes viewed the Virgin Mary as a powerful propaganda tool. With their ties to the Queen of Heaven, they could legitimize their authority on earth and cemented the strong tie between Mary and Catholicism, centered in Rome: “The more the papacy gained control of the city, the more veneration of the mother of the emperor in heaven, by whose right the Church ruled, increased,” explains Marina Warner in her 1976 book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary. 

The Coronation of the Virgin by Diego Velázquez, 1636

John VII was the first pope to have himself painted in prostration at the feet of the Virgin, in the basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome. 

Madonna della Clemenza icon from the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome, 8th century. It’s the first to show a pope, John VII, prostrating himself at her feet (though it’s hard to make out now).

The coronation of Mary was first depicted in the 12th century, from an apse mosaic at Santa Maria to niches of French cathedrals, and became a favorite theme of Christendom. Christ is shown crowning his mother, switching the moment of her triumph from the Incarnation (when she conceived the son of God) to the Assumption (when she was taken up to Heaven). 

Coronation of the Virgin by Fra Angelico, 1435

The imagery of a divine queen worked well to legitimize not only popes but royalty and its system of inequality as well. “For by projecting the hierarchy of the world onto heaven, that hierarchy — be it ecclesiastical or lay — appears to be ratified by divinely reflected approval; and the lessons of the Gospel about the poor inheriting the earth are wholly ignored,” Warner writes. 

“It would be difficult to concoct a greater perversion of the Sermon on the Mount [Christ’s ethical code, focusing on compassion, selflessness, etc.] than the sovereignty of Mary and its cult, which has been used over the centuries by different princes to stake out their spheres of influence in the temporal realm,” Warner continues, “to fly a flag for their ambitions like any Maoist poster or political broadcast; and equally difficult to imagine a greater distortion of Christ’s idealism than this identification of the rich and powerful with the good.”

The Coronation of the Virgin With Angels and Four Saints by Neri di Bicci, circa 1470

The Bride of Christ: Incest Is Best?

As shocking as it may seem, the Virgin Mary was, for a while, depicted as the bride of her own son, Jesus. 

How could this have come about? Warner suggests the influence of Middle Eastern mystery religions, which played up males forming unions with females. The Canaanite god Baal coupled with his sister, Anat. In Syria, the shepherd Tammuz became the lover of the sky goddess Ishtar. The Phrygian cult featured Cybele and Attis, who died castrated under a tree. And Egyptian mythology tells the tale of Osiris, the god of the dead, who was chopped into pieces and put back together by his sister-wife, Isis. 

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RELATED: A pictorial glossary of the so-called pagan gods of the Old Testament

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The nuptials of these divine beings mirrored the joining of earth and sky at the dawn of creation.

You wouldn’t marry your mother, would you — even if she was the Virgin Mary?!

“Thus marriage was the pivotal symbol on which turned the cosmology of most of the religions that pressed on Jewish society, jeopardizing its unique monotheism,” Warner writes. “It is a symptom of their struggle to maintain their distinctiveness that the Jews, while absorbing this pagan symbol, reversed the ranks of the celestial pair to make the bride God’s servant and possession, from whom he ferociously exacts absolute submission.”

From this foundation, Cyprian of Carthage, in the 3rd century, accused virgins who flirted of committing adultery against their true husband, Christ.  

And then, of course, there are nuns, whose consecration ceremony includes getting a ring that designates them as a bride of Christ. Talk about polygamy on a mass scale!

But it wasn’t really until 1153, when Bernard of Clairvaux gave multiple sermons on the Old Testament’s Song of Songs — “that most languorous and amorous of poems,” as Warner calls it. In one of these, Bernard preached, speaking of Christ and the Virgin Mary:

But surely will we not deem much happier those kisses which in blessed greeting she receives today from the mouth of him who sits on the right hand of the Father, when she ascends to the throne of glory, singing a nuptial hymn and saying: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.”

Pagan influences aside, I’m puzzled as to how this incestuous idea ever caught on among Christians.

The Virgin and Child by Dirk Bouts, circa 1465

Maria Lactans: The Milk-Squirting Mary

While Mary was exempt from Eve’s punishment of bearing children in pain, there was one biological function allowed her: breastfeeding. “From her earliest images onwards, the mother of God has been represented as nursing her child,” Warner says. 

The Virgin Mary depicted with squirting breasts?! This is one iconography I’ve got to milk for all its worth.

Where did this idea come from? “The theme of the nursing Virgin, Maria Lactans, probably originated in Egypt, where the goddess Isis had been portrayed suckling the infant Horus for over a thousand years before Christ,” Warner explains. 

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RELATED: In the New Testament, Mary wasn’t mentioned as being a virgin. Find out why early Christians insisted upon Mary being pure.

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Madonna Nursing the Child (Maria Lactans) by Erasmus Quellinus the Younger, circa 1614

Part of this symbolism derives from a mother providing much-needed nourishment: “For milk was a crucial metaphor of the gift of life,” Warner continues. “Without it, a child had little or no chance of survival before the days of baby foods, and its almost miraculous appearance seemed as providential as the conception and birth of the child itself.”

And, not surprisingly, Mary’s milk was miraculous. A favorite medieval tale, including a version in French by Gautier de Coincy, tells how a faithful monk was dying of a putrid mouth filled with ulcers. He reproached the Madonna for neglecting him, and chastened, she appears at his bedside: 

With much sweetness and much delight,
From her sweet bosom she drew forth her breast, 
That is so sweet, so soft, so beautiful,
And placed it in his mouth, 
Gently touched him all about,
And sprinkled him with her sweet milk.

As Warner writes, “Needless to say, the monk was rendered whole again.”

According to a 14th century legend, Saint Bernard prayed before a statue of Mary. It came to life, and the Virgin placed her breast in Bernard’s mouth, nursing him as she did the baby Jesus.

The Madonna’s miracle milk became a nearly ubiquitous relic in Europe. “From the thirteenth century, phials in which her milk was preserved were venerated all over Christendom in shrines that attracted pilgrims by the thousands. Walsingham, Chartres, Genoa, Rome, Venice, Avignon, Padua, Aix-en-Provence, Toulon, Paris, Naples, all possessed the precious and efficacious substance,” Warner says.

John Calvin, the church reformer, had a scathing opinion about these claims. “There is no town so small, nor convent … so mean that it does not display some of the Virgin’s milk,” he wrote in his Treatise on Relics. “There is so much that if the holy Virgin had been a cow, or a wet nurse all her life she would have been hard put to it to yield such a great quantity.”

The idea of a breastfeeding mother of God waned in the Renaissance, when high-born women found it indecent to do the job themselves and outsourced the task to wetnurses. Plus, it was deemed indecorous to depict Mary with her breast exposed with the increasing idea that a woman’s body was shameful. Mary, with the Immaculate Conception, was born without original sin and therefore avoided Eve’s curse — and by the 16th century, that included being exempt from suckling the Christ child.

Madonna in Sorrow by Juan de Juni, 1571

Mater Dolorosa: The Sorrowful Mother

The caregiving image of Mary gave way to a mother mourning her dead son, what’s known as the Mater Dolorosa. The cult began in the 11th century, reaching full fruition in the 14th century in Italy, France, England, the Netherlands and Spain. The culmination of this iconography? Michelangelo’s La Pietà.

La Pietà by Michelangelo, 1499

Again, we have Ancient Egypt, and the surrounding region’s myths, to thank for this representation. The Egyptian goddess Isis sorrowfully wandered the land, collecting the pieces of her dismembered brother-husband, Osiris. When she finds his coffin, she caresses Osiris’ face and weeps. 

And she’s not the only weeping woman of the ancient Middle East. Dumuzi, the shepherd and “true son” of Sumerian myth, was sacrificed to the underworld, tortured by demons (much like Christ later, during his Passion and descent into Hell). The goddess Inanna, the Queen of Heaven, weeps for him.

It seems likely that Christians picked up this iconography — spurred on by the horrors of the Black Death, when the bubonic plague swept the continent, wiping out one-fifth of the entire population. “It aroused penitential fever in a way never seen before, and gave the image of the Mater Dolorosa weighty contemporary significance,” Warner points out. 

Madonna in Sorrow by Titian, 1554

Once again, Mary’s bodily fluids have healing properties. “The tears she sheds are charged with the magic of her precious, incorruptible, undying body and have the power to give life and make whole,” Warner explains. 

This cult has lasted to the present day. Many of us have heard stories of statues of the Virgin that miraculously weep. 

“Contemporary prudishness has tabooed the Virgin’s milk, but her tears have still escaped the category of forbidden symbols, and are collected as one of the most efficacious and holy relics of Christendom,” Warner says. “They course down her cheeks as a symbol of the purifying sacrifice of the Cross, which washes sinners of all stain and gives them new life, just as the tears of Inanna over Dumuzi fell on the parched Sumerian soil and quickened it into flower.” 

The Virgin of Greater Pain and Transfer of Great Power

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The Black Madonna of Monserrat

The Black Madonna: Our Lady of Montserrat

Most Western depictions of Mary present her skin as lily-white, untouched by corruption, despite the fact that she is undeniably Middle Eastern. So it’s all the more surprising to see the emergence of the Black Madonna, a dark-skinned version that became popular among the medieval Benedictine monks in Montserrat, Spain. 

The monks saw the lushness of their mountain as a mirror of Mary. As such, her icon took on aspects of a fertility goddess. 

But in a bizarre twist (or perhaps not, given that Mary was a Jew from Judea), the Virgin had dark skin, which led to her being known as the Black Madonna. In fact, she’s known locally as La Moreneta, the Little Dark One. The depiction spread to other places of worship, among them Chartres, Orléans, Rome and Poland. 

The Black Madonna of Częstochowa, Poland

“The Church often explains their blackness in allegorical terms from the Song of Songs: ‘I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem’ (Song of Solomon 1:5),” Warner writes. “[B]ut another theory about their color is even more prosaic: that the smoke of votive candles for centuries has blackened the wood or the pigment, and when artists restored the images, they repainted the robes and jewels that clothe the Madonna and Child but out of awe left their faces black.”

The shrine at Montserrat is one of the longest continuous cults of Mary, especially popular with newly married couples. Here she has dominion over marriage, sex, pregnancy and childbirth — odd for a virgin but not for a fertility goddess. 

The Black Madonna at St. Mary’s Church in Gdansk, Poland

A gruesome legend illustrates Mary’s power. A woman gives birth to a lump of dead flesh. But when she prays to Our Lady of Montserrat, it begins to move and is transformed into a beautiful baby boy. 

Madonna della Misericordia by Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470

Madonna della Misericordia: Our Lady of Mercy

In a merging of her roles as mother and queen, a new depiction of Mary emerged in Umbria, Italy at the end of the 13th century. The Virgin was given a massive cloak which she wrapped over the poor souls gathered at her feet. Towering over them and offering protection, this was the Madonna della Misericordia, Our Lady of Mercy. 

Madonna of Mercy by Sano di Pietro, circa 1440s

After the desolation of the Black Death in the late 1340s, this iconography of Mary became the most popular. Monks and laypeople alike would pray to this aspect of the Virgin, asking her to keep them safe from harm. 

The Virgin of the Caves by Francisco de Zurbarán, circa 1655

This Mary is often preternaturally large — and her son, Christ, isn’t anywhere to be found, “suggesting that her mercy, directly given, could save sinners,” Warner writes. But that cuts God and Jesus out of the equation and makes the Virgin a goddess in her own right. 

So while Our Lady of Mercy spread throughout Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries, it was officially declared heterodox (not in accordance with the accepted Catholic doctrine) and banned by the Council of Trent in the mid-1500s.

Dormition of the Virgin fresco by Frangos Katelanos, 1548

Divine Dominion Over Death 

The Virgin Mary has worn many guises over the years, from a gentle breastfeeding mother to imperial queen to tutelary goddess. 

“If travelers from another planet were to enter churches, as far flung as the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., or the Catholic cathedral in Saigon, or the rococo phantasmagoria of New World churches, and see the Virgin’s image on the altar, it would be exceedingly difficult for them to understand that she was only an intercessor and not a divinity in her own right,” Warner points out. 

There are surely many factors that have led to Mary’s enduring appeal, starting with her co-opting of ancient mythology like the Egyptian goddess Isis. Many cultures find it fitting to worship the female spirit — something glaringly missing in the often-misogynistic views of Christianity. 

Detail from Assumption of Mary by Peter Paul Rubens, circa 1617

But Warner has a theory: “For although the Virgin is a healer, a midwife, a peacemaker, the protectress of virgins, and the patroness of monks and nuns in this world; although her polymorphous myth has myriad uses and functions for the living, it is the jurisdiction over her death accorded her in popular belief that gives her such widespread supremacy.”

She could be on to something. Think of the final words of the Hail Mary, the best-loved prayer in Catholicism: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” –Wally

Why Did Christ Have to Be Born of the Virgin Mary?

Virgin births weren’t unusual in pagan times — just in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Here’s how sex got tangled up with the idea of sin, and by extension, chastity became the ultimate sign of virtue. 

Nativity, Birth of Jesus by Giotto, circa 1305

Early Christians needed their savior to have been born of a woman without sin, and that included the act of fornication. Greek myths could have influenced their theology.

Mary, the mother of Christ, is held up as one of a kind among humans for getting pregnant and giving birth without ever having sex. 

But believe it or not, so-called virgin births weren’t uncommon in the pagan world. Pythagorus, Plato and Alexander the Great were all said to have been born of virgins by the power of a holy spirit. 

Alexander the Great’s mom dreamed of a lightning bolt striking her vagina — and lo and behold! She became pregnant with the future king of Macedon. In antiquity, “virgin” births weren’t all that uncommon.

“Christians, aware of the antique pantheon, are still worried by the parallel between Christ’s story and the dozens of virgin births of classical mythology,” Maria Warner wrote in her 1976 work Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary.

So how exactly does one conceive without fornication? We can turn once again to paganism. In Greek mythology, the closest parallel seems to be when Zeus turned himself into a shower of gold and impregnated Danae, who gave birth to the hero Perseus.   

Danaë and the Golden Shower by Andrea Casali, circa 1750

The Greek myth of Zeus impregnating a woman in the form of a golden rain could have inspired the form the Holy Ghost took with the Virgin Mary.

The Greek god Zeus metamorphosed into a swan to couple with Leda. Did this bird imagery inspire the Holy Ghost’s representatoin as a dove?

Then again, the Holy Ghost is often depicted as a dove, and in another encounter, Zeus, that shapeshifting, lecherous cad, adopted the form a bird as well: He became a swan to seduce (or, perhaps, rape) Leda, mother of Helen of Troy, the twins Castor and Pollux, and another daughter, Clytemnestra.

The Annunciation by Fra Angelico, 1445

The shaft of light symbolizing the Holy Ghost isn’t too different from Danae’s shower of gold. Notice the contrast of the Virgin with Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden to the left.

Connecting Sex With Sin

Of course in these cases, Zeus is copulating with the women. It’s an act of lust, and, at least for the god, one of pleasure. That’s in stark contrast to the Christian idea of Mary’s conception of Jesus: She remains a virgin, her maidenhead unbroken, and there’s no animal-like rutting. 

This was an essential part of the Christ story. The fathers of the Christian church connected sex with sin early on, taking their cue from Genesis and the Garden of Eden: Fornication becomes necessary for reproduction, and the pain of childbirth a curse that Eve, and all women to follow, must bear. 

Sex was seen as the ultimate sin. Saint Augustine wrote in City of God, in 426, that the passion aroused by lovemaking was sinful — though the holy act of propagation was not. In a similar vein, he added, “We ought not to condemn marriage because of the evil of lust, nor must we praise lust because of the good of marriage.”

“[I]n this battle between the flesh and the spirit, the female sex was firmly placed on the side of the flesh,” Warner wrote. “For as childbirth was woman’s special function, and its pangs the special penalty decreed by God after the Fall, and as the child she bore in her womb was stained by sin from the moment of its conception, the evils of sex were particularly identified with the female. Woman was womb and womb was evil.”

The Annunciation from the Grabower Altar in St. Peter’s in Hamburg, Germany, 1383

Saint Ephrem the Syrian wrote, “Perfectly God, he entered the womb through her ear.” The idea was that by conceiving via her ear, Mary remained a virgin.

The Virgin Mary: Not Your Typical (Sinful) Woman

Mary’s impregnation is, in contrast, a serene, holy act. It’s possibly tied to the very words of the Angel Gabriel when he announces her role in bringing forth the Savior. In ancient times, some people actually believed pregnancy could come about through the ear. (It gives a whole new meaning to Iggy Pop’s lyric “Of course I’ve had it in the ear before.”)

A sixth century hymn that’s still sung today goes:

The centuries marvel therefore 
that the angel bore the seed,
the virgin conceived through her ear, 
and believing in her heart, became fruitful.

The son of God chose to be born of a virgin, according to Augustine, because it was the only way to enter the world without sin. So, “Let us love chastity above all things,” he wrote, “for it was to show that this was pleasing to Him that Christ chose the modesty of a virgin womb.”

Painful births were one of God’s punishments for Eve eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. But Jesus’ mother couldn’t be connected with anything so sinful, so she was said to be a virgin, pure and intact.

Slandering the Virgin Mary

The early Christian church had to defend itself against rumors that painted Mary in a negative light. Jews and pagans in Alexandria, for example, were saying that Jesus wasn’t conceived by God — instead, he was the bastard child of an incestuous union of Mary and her brother. 

It doesn’t seem far-fetched nowadays to question a scientific impossibility — but at the dawn of Christianity, virgin births wouldn’t have been too big of a surprise. For early Christians, anything to do with female bodily functions was dirty and sinful. So they would have insisted their savior had to have come from an inviolate womb. And, despite evidence to the contrary, Mary became a virgin. –Wally

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Shocking Revelations About the Virgin Mary in the Bible

The Gospels barely mention Mary. They get her name wrong. They show Jesus being rude to her. And they make us question if she was even a virgin.

The worship of Mary has taken over Catholicism. But there’s a surprisingly scant amount of appearances by her in the New Testament — and those that are there can be problematic.

The figure of the Virgin Mary holds a place of honor in Christian theology and devotion, where she’s revered as the mother of Jesus and an embodiment of purity and divinity. And for Catholics, she’s essentially a goddess in her own right — and some would argue, perhaps more revered than Jesus himself.

However, a closer examination of the biblical texts reveals a series of astonishing revelations that challenge commonly held beliefs about Mary. In her book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary, Marina Warner presents a compelling analysis of the Gospel accounts, shedding light on the limited mentions of Mary, discrepancies in her portrayal and even doubts about her virginity. Published in 1976, Warner’s research continues to shock almost 50 years later.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible. Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.

Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture.”

— Maria Warner, "Alone of All Her Sex"

The Annunciation by Paolo de Matteis, 1712

There’s a lot of beliefs about Mary that don’t come from the Bible. But one story that does is the Angel Gabriel telling her she’ll get pregnant by the Holy Spirit and will give birth to the Son of God.

1. Mary is hardly mentioned in the Gospels.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible,” Warner writes. “Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.” 

Warner explains that “the sum total of the Virgin’s appearances in the New Testament is startlingly small plunder on which to build the great riches of Mariology,” the part of Christian theology devoted to Mary. “Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture,” Warner continues.

The Immaculate Conception by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1769

The idea that Mary was born without sin like the rest of us can’t be found anywhere in the New Testament.

In the Bible, the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary of Nazareth. At first she’s troubled and confused, but Gabriel prophesizes Jesus’ birth, to which Mary answers (“her most precious speech in Mariology,” Warner states), “How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?” (Luke 1:34). 

Gabriel explains, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:38).

The Annunciation, from an illuminated manuscript created at Gladzor Monastery in Armenia by Toros Taronatsi in 1323

Strangely enough, though, the Gospel writers can’t even get her name right: She’s called Mariám 12 times and Maria seven times, according to Warner. 

Only Luke hits the major moments in what has become our understanding of the Virgin Mary. Even so, in Luke’s Gospel, Mary speaks a mere four times. 

In Matthew, she is silent. After the account of Jesus’ birth, Matthew mentions Mary only one more time.

Mark has a single mention of Mary (and it’s hardly flattering as you’ll see). 

John’s Gospel was written after the other three, “and it differs so considerably from them that for a time even its inclusion in the canon was at risk,” Warner writes. In it, the mother of Jesus is never mentioned by name, and it doesn’t repeat any of the incidents concerning her from the other Gospels. 

Christ Crucified With the Virgin, Saint John and Mary Magdalene by Anthony van Dyck, 1619

Jesus wanted to make sure Mary and John viewed each other as family — and then he was able to die.

She’s shown, perhaps, in the best light in John at the Crucifixion. As Jesus is dying on the cross, he sees his mother and “the disciple standing by, whom he loved” (i.e., John) and calls out, “Mother behold thy son!” and “Son behold thy mother!” John takes Mary into his home from that time on, the Gospel says. And Jesus, “knowing that all things were now accomplished,” drank vinegar and hyssop, and said, “It is finished” — “and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost” (John 19:26-30). 

The Marriage at Cana by Marten de Vos, 1597

Jesus is snippy with Mary at the event where he turns water into wine — a biblical passage that makes many a Catholic cringe.

2. Jesus is surprisingly rude to his mother.

In Mark’s recounting, Jesus has been preaching and attracting crowds, but his friends decide he has lost his mind, and his charisma is the work of the Devil (Mark 3:21). They call upon Jesus’ mother and brethren for help. Jesus asks, “Who is my mother or my brethren?” Then, looking around at those who have gathered to hear him, he declares, “Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother” (Mark 3: 34-5). “Thus Jesus rebuffs his earthly family to embrace the larger family of his spiritual fellowship,” Warner writes. 

Matthew and Luke feature the same story — but by the time Luke tells it, he’s defending Mary and the rest of the family, stating that they “could not come at him for the press” of the crowd (Luke 8:19). 

The episode is paralleled later in Luke. A woman in a crowd calls out, “Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.” Jesus states, “Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke 11:7-8). “Mary is not necessarily excluded from Jesus’ reply, but it certainly rings harshly,” Warner writes, adding, “The Catholic Church has consistently overlooked the hard-heartedness in Jesus’ words.”

John tells of the miracle at Cana, one of two conversations between Jesus and his mother (John 2:3-5):

Mother: They have no wine.

Jesus: Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.

Mother [to the servants]: Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. 

Jesus goes on to turn water into wine. “Mary, apparently rebuffed quite brutally by her son, understands that he will nevertheless perform a miracle,” Warner explains. 

The Marriage of the Virgin by Giotto, 1306

The big question is: Did Joseph and Mary have sex after she gave birth? It’s the most likely explanation for Jesus’ brothers and sisters.

3. Her very virginity is at question.

For many Christians, it’s unfathomable to imagine that the Virgin Mary, whose moniker is tied to her purity, might be the result of a poor translation. “[A]s for her virginity,” Warner writes, “the evangelists, far from asserting it, raise a number of doubts.” 

Of all the Gospels, only Matthew makes a clear statement about the virgin birth. He says that Jesus was conceived by the power of the Holy Ghost before Mary and Joseph “came together” (Matthew 7:20). 

But Matthew’s writer was using the Greek Septuagint translation of the Bible, where the Hebrew word “almah,” meaning a young girl of marriageable age, became “parthenos” in Greek — a word that carries a strong connotation of virginity.

Catholics “hold (not as an article of faith, but as a cherished and ancient belief) that Mary was virgo intacta post partum, that by special privilege of God she, who was spared sex, was preserved also through childbirth in her full bodily integrity,” Warner explains. Which, one has to imagine, means her hymen was intact. 

But Matthew’s language seems to suggest that Mary and Joseph had sex after the birth of Jesus: “Then Joseph … took unto him his wife: and knew her not till she had brought forth her first born son” (Matthew 1:24-5). Yes, that’s “knew” in the biblical sense. It’s basically saying Joseph and Mary didn’t have sex until after Jesus was born. But they did eventually do so — Mary didn’t remain a virgin. 

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple by Hans Holbein the Elder, 1501

If Mary was so pure, why did she have to undergo a period of cleansing before she could present Jesus in the temple?

Also problematic: Mary gives birth to Jesus and enters the temple only after the time for her purification has elapsed. Under Mosaic law, a woman must be cleansed of the impurity incurred at childbirth. But why would that be necessary if Mary was, miraculously, still a virgin?

A 16th century Russian icon of James the Just, one of Jesus’ siblings

And then there’s the issue of Jesus’ siblings, mentioned in Matthew, Mark and Luke. Some early thinkers of the Greek church came up with a solution that has no proof in the Bible: Joseph was a widower, and those children were from an earlier marriage. 

The Birth of Christ by Meister von Hohenfurth, circa 1350

Rethinking the Virgin Mary

Warner’s groundbreaking work Alone of All Her Sex challenges conventional beliefs surrounding the Virgin Mary, drawing attention to the limited scriptural references, Jesus’ puzzlingly brusque behavior to his mother and the ambiguity surrounding her virginity. These shocking revelations prompt a reevaluation of deeply ingrained perceptions and invite further exploration of the complex figure at the heart of the Christian and Catholic faiths. –Wally

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CLICK HERE: When Did Jesus Become God? 5 Startling Findings in the Gospels

Where the Heck Did the Easter Bunny Come From?

Hopping through the history of the Easter Bunny, from pagan rituals to modern-day celebrations. Along the way, we’ll make some egg-citing discoveries about his birth as a fertility symbol and the origin of dyed eggs and Easter baskets.

Who knew the Easter Bunny evolved from the animal companion of a pagan goddess?

I once sponsored a child in India. His name was Papu Magi, and I regularly wrote him letters, sharing U.S. customs. When Easter rolled around, I explained how a giant human-sized bunny sneaks into our homes at night and leaves baskets filled with candy and colored eggs.

It wasn’t until I had written it out that I realized how bizarre some of our holiday traditions truly are. This got me thinking: How did we come up with the Easter Bunny?

“It makes you wonder if most Christians realize the holiday dedicated to the resurrection of their savior is actually named for a pagan goddess.”

Young women dance around a phallic maypole to increase their fertility — another pagan spring tradition.

A Pagan Origin: How the Easter Bunny and Dyed Eggs Became Symbols of Spring Celebrations

The origins of the Easter Bunny, as well as dyed eggs, can be traced back to ancient pagan rituals that celebrated the arrival of spring, including Ostara. Still practiced as a Wiccan holiday, Ostara is a celebration of the spring equinox. It’s named after the Germanic goddess Eostre, who some scholars deduce was associated with the dawn, fertility and new beginnings. (It makes you wonder if most Christians realize the holiday dedicated to the resurrection of their savior is actually named for a pagan deity).

Caveat: Hard evidence about Eostre is lacking, and the goddess remains shrouded in mystery. Much of what’s reported on her is conjecture.

Her first mention comes from a famous monk, the Venerable Bede, in 731 CE, who wrote that the Anglo-Saxons called April Eosturmonath, or Eostre Month, in honor a pagan goddess worshiped at that time.

Easter gets its name from Eostre, a pagan goddess of the spring.

These rites of spring were full of festive merrymaking, including dancing around maypoles, drinking mead and worshiping rabbits.

Yup, that’s right: Bunnies were a key figure in these celebrations. In pagan traditions, the rabbit was seen as a symbol of fertility and new life — no real surprise, given their well-deserved reputation for rapid reproduction.

During these springtime celebrations, people would decorate eggs, believing them to have the power to bring new life and prosperity to those who ate them. Using natural dyes made from flowers and other plants, they created eggs in a variety of hues. And, as crazy as it might sound, rabbits were said to be responsible for laying colored eggs.

Do Jesus and the Easter Bunny belong in the same holiday?

Hopping Into Easter: The Christian Origins of the Easter Bunny and Its Symbolism of Resurrection

The Easter Bunny may have its roots in pagan traditions, but it also had a significant place in Christian beliefs. The early Christians in Europe adopted many pagan customs and blended them with their own religious practices, which is how the Easter Bunny eventually found its way into the Christian tradition.

Much as with Christmas, some Christians bemoan the commercialization of the Easter holiday.

I’m not sure that many Christians today connect the commercial aspects of Easter with the religious ones (there’s a parallel to Santa and Christmas), but back in the day, early Christians associated the rabbit, and all of its spring rebirth symbolism, with Jesus’ resurrection.

It seems that Karen Swallow Prior, a professor of Christianity and culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, agrees. “There’s nothing wrong with dressing up in pastels, hiding eggs or consuming large amounts of chocolate,” she wrote in an op-ed in The Washington Post. “But if the fluffy white bunny takes precedence over the crucified and resurrected Lord, we’ve missed the point.”

Easter baskets came about from a pagan tradition to carry offerings to the goddess of spring.

The History of Easter Baskets: From Pagan Offerings to Sweet Treats

Easter baskets are a staple of the holiday, but how did they become a part of the Easter tradition? It turns out that the origin of the Easter basket is also closely tied to the pagan celebrations of spring.

In pagan traditions, baskets were used to carry offerings to the goddess of spring, including eggs, thought to increase fertility. Over time, the baskets became a symbol of the bounty of spring and were filled with all sorts of goodies, like flowers, fruit and vegetables.

Well, no wonder the Easter Bunny decided to switch to baskets!

As the Easter basket evolved, so did its contents. Today, they’re most often filled with candy (including a chocolate rabbit, which kids will disturbingly bite its ears off of) and other treats, filled by the Easter Bunny himself during a nocturnal visit — again, another connection to Santa Claus. 

It’s hard to tell exactly when the Easter Bunny became adult-sized and anthropomorphic, but it seems like it might have happened around the 1950s.

Hare Today, Easter Bunny Tomorrow: Tracing the Evolution of the Beloved Easter Mascot

The Easter Bunny has been a beloved symbol of the holiday for centuries, but have you ever wondered how it evolved into the oversized, anthropomorphic creature we know today? 

He didn’t start out that way. The hare, a smaller relative of the rabbit, was revered by ancient cultures for its speed, agility and ability to reproduce, and was often associated with the moon and the goddess of fertility. A study from 2020 draws a direct connection between Eostre and her association with the hare.

Bunnies and colored eggs have long been symbols of spring, representing new life.

As the hare became associated with pagan spring celebrations, it eventually evolved into the Easter Bunny we know today. This transformation was likely influenced by the German tradition of the Osterhase, a hare who laid eggs for children on Easter morning.

Jacob Grimm, one of the famous Brothers Grimm who collected oral folklore throughout Germany, said in 1835 that the Easter hare was associated with Eostre, or Ostara, as she would have been called in ancient German.

At some point, the Easter Bunny grew in size and children were told he visits their homes at night (much like Santa) to leave them candy-filled Easter baskets.

Vintage cards from the late 1800s to early 1900s show a lot of rabbits, but it seems like it wasn’t until the 1950s or so that the Easter Bunny became more and more human-like. Perhaps families or malls started having someone dress up like the Easter Bunny for photo opportunities. And despite the fact that the Easter Bunny became bipedal and reached 6 feet or so (not counting the ears), most kids believe he can’t actually talk. 

Then again, it might have come down to marketing as a gimmick to help sell candy. “The Easter Bunny was created out of whole cloth by the confectionary industry,” claims David Emery, who writes for the fact-check site Snopes.

In another connection to Christmas, it has become a tradition to terrorize children by making them sit on the Easter Bunny’s lap for a photo.

Today, the Easter Bunny is a staple of the holiday, sometimes depicted wearing clothes — most often a vest and bowtie — and carrying baskets of eggs and treats.

To quote the M&M’s commercial, a fave of mine as a kid in the ’80s: “Thanks, Easter Bunny! Bawk! Bawk!” –Wally

Going for Baroque: The Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church in Oaxaca

From its fascinating history to its stunning Baroque architecture, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church is a must-see attraction in Oaxaca.

Like most churches in Mexico, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán in Oaxaca has got history, style, beauty, drama and a whole lot of swag. 

Holy History: The Evolution of Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church

Construction of the church began in 1572 and was completed over three decades later, in 1608. The building was designed by Fray Francisco de la Maza, a Spanish architect who was a member of the Dominican Order. 

“Inside the church, visitors are treated to a riot of color and decoration.

The walls and ceilings are covered in frescoes of the life of Christ and the history of the Dominican Order.”

Also par for the course: The church was built on the site of an existing temple that was destroyed during the Spanish conquest of the region. The original temple was dedicated to Cosijoeza, a Zapotec ruler from the late 15th century. He was a skilled warrior who fought against the Aztecs and other neighboring tribes to defend his people’s land and culture. He acted as shaman and healer as well, and was said to have possessed great spiritual power.

According to legend, Cosijoeza ascended to the heavens after his death, becoming a god who watches over the Zapotec people and protects them from harm.

During the colonial period, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán was built as a symbol of the power and wealth of the Catholic Church and the Spanish colonial authorities. The church was lavishly decorated with gold leaf, marble and other precious materials, and it served as a center of religious and cultural life in Oaxaca.

In the 19th century, the church played an important role in the Mexican War of Independence, serving as barracks for both royalist and insurgent forces at different times. After Mexico gained independence from Spain in 1821, the church continued to be the spiritual heart of Oaxaca, and it was eventually designated as a national monument in 1935.

Today, the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán is one of the most visited tourist attractions in town, attracting thousands of visitors each year.

What’s in a Name? The Legacy of Santo Domingo de Guzmán

Saint Domingo de Guzmán was a Spanish priest who lived in the 12th and 13th centuries. He founded the Order of Preachers, also known as the Dominican Order, which was dedicated to preaching the gospel and combating heresy. Saint Domingo was known for his zeal and devotion to spreading the teachings of the Church.

There was no dramatic act of martyrdom for Santo Domingo, though: He died of a fever in Bologna, Italy in 1221, and was canonized by the Catholic Church in 1234.

Divine Design: The Intricate Baroque Style of Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church

Mexican churches tend not to be subtle. The Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church is a masterclass in Baroque architecture, a visual feast, with intricate details both inside and out. The exterior is adorned with elaborate carvings and statues, featuring saints, angels and other religious figures. The façade is made of Cantera verde, the local green volcanic stone, which glows a lovely yellow in the sunshine. Three domes top the templo — two blue and white checkered ones atop the entrance and a larger red tile one to the side.

When we saw this woman posing in front of the church, we had to get in on the action.

Inside the church, visitors are treated to a riot of color and decoration. The walls and ceilings are covered in frescoes and murals featuring scenes from the life of Christ and the history of the Dominican Order.

The altarpiece, which was carved from a single piece of cedar, is gilded with gold leaf and decorated with intricate carvings of saints, cherubs and other religious motifs.

To the right of the nave is the Capilla del Rosario, or Chapel of the Rosary, with its own stunning altarpiece.

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There’s a museum attached to the church. Hopefully it’s open when you visit!

Sacred Treasures: The Artifacts and Exhibits of the Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán Church Museum

There’s a museum in the massive edifice as well, to the left of the main church entrance. Unfortunately it was closed when we visited, but it holds an impressive (and surprisingly diverse) collection of religious art, including paintings, sculptures and tapestries, housed in the former monastery of the Dominican Order.

One of the highlights of the museum is the collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts, including pottery, sculptures, and other objects from the Zapotec and Mixtec cultures. You can also see a wide range of religious art from the colonial period. There’s even a collection of contemporary art, with rotating exhibits featuring the work of local and international artists, as well vintage photographs and cameras. 

As our friend Kevin, who lives in town, says, “There’s a parade or festival every day in Oaxaca.” This indigenous dance troupe performed in the plaza in front of Santo Domingo de Guzmán.

When you’re in Oaxaca de Juárez, you’ll inevitably find yourself passing by the massive Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán. Be sure to stop inside and admire the gilded glory — and plan a tour of the Oaxaca Botanical Garden (Jardín Etnobotánico de Oaxaca) on the grounds of the former Dominican monastery behind the church. –Wally

Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzmán

Calle Macedonio Alcalá s/n
Centro
68000 Oaxaca de Juárez
Oaxaca
Mexico

 

When Did Jesus Become God? 5 Startling Findings in the Gospels

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John offer differing views of Christ’s divinity. Some say he became divine at his baptism, others that he has always been one with God. Plus: Did the idea of the Virgin Mary come from a misunderstanding?

Jesus was crucified and came to be viewed as divine after his resurrection. But as time went on, the Gospel writers altered this view, offering different takes on when Jesus became one with God.

Icon of the Crucifixion by Andreas Pavias, second half of the 15th century

What did the earliest Christians believe? The first writings about Jesus reveal that his original followers thought that he became divine upon his resurrection. 

But that’s not a belief shared in all of the books of the New Testament. In fact, there was hardly a consensus among early followers. “Different Christians in different churches in different regions had different views of Jesus, almost from the get-go,” writes Bart D. Ehrman in the 2014 book How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher From Galilee. 

“If Jesus claimed to be equal with God,
wouldn’t the earlier Gospels have mentioned it? ”

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Here are five surprising findings revealed in a study of the Gospels.

Early Christians believed Jesus became divine upon his resurrection — but in the earliest Gospel, Mark, the timeline had been moved back to his baptism.

Theophany, an icon of the Baptism of the Lord, 20th century

1. The Gospel of Mark doesn’t mention that Mary was a virgin, and declares that Jesus became divine only after being baptized. 

According to Mark, Jesus was fully human up until the point that John the Baptist baptizes him. Once this happens, the Spirit of God descends as a dove and a voice from the heavens declares, “You are my beloved son, in you I am well pleased” (Mark 1:9-11). 

It is only after this has happened that Jesus begins his own ministry, now one with God, and is able to perform miracles (walk on water, raise the dead), cast out demons and forgive sins.  

The author of Luke literally changed the words of God because the earlier view that Jesus became divine after being baptized had become a heresy.

The Baptism of Christ by Domenico Ghirlandaio, 1490

2. A passage in Luke was changed from its original to downplay the statement that Jesus became the Son of God at his baptism.

We don’t have any original documents of the New Testament. What we do have are copies made centuries later — many of which have been altered and differ from each other. One such passage about Jesus’ baptism in Luke tweaks what God says. “But in several of our old witnesses to the text, the voice says something else,” Ehrman writes. “It quotes Psalm 2:7: ‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you.’” 

Why make this change? Ehrman says that “when scribes were copying the texts of Luke in later centuries, the view that Jesus was made the Son [of God] at the baptism was considered not just inadequate, but heretical.” Jesus was always divine, and any other teaching needed to be suppressed — even if that’s what early Christians believed.

What if Mary wasn’t a virgin? The earliest mentions of her don’t say anything of the sort — and the concept only sprung up in Matthew with a bad translation.

The Creation of Man by Natalie Lennard, 2017

3. The Gospel of Matthew mentions the virgin birth — but this is a misinterpretation of an early prophecy.

The book of the Old Testament prophet Isaiah declares, “A virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:14). Never mind that Jesus isn’t actually called Immanuel; the author must have made the connection because the name translates to “God Is With Us.” Turns out the quote isn’t actually about the coming messiah at all. 

To top it off, Matthew mentions the virgin birth because of a bad translation. The author read a Greek translation of Isaiah many centuries later. The original Hebrew word, alma, means “young woman” but it was translated with the Greek parthenos, which carries the connotation of a young woman who has never had sex. It’s this misinterpretation that leads Ehrman and other biblical scholars to believe that this is the origin of Mary becoming the Virgin. 

As time when on, Jesus’ divinity got earlier and earlier, until the last Gospel, John, states that he had always been one with God.

Jesus Christ by Cathy Dobson, 1994

4. It’s not until John, the latest of the Gospels, that Jesus is declared to have always existed as an equal to God.

The author of John doesn’t hold that Jesus was exalted into a divine state; he is the same as God and was his human incarnation on Earth for a few decades. This is the view of Jesus held today by most Christians — but it’s certainly not what his earliest followers, including the 12 Disciples, believed. As previously mentioned, they thought that Jesus became divine only after his resurrection and later ascension into Heaven. 

The Gospel of John declares that Jesus is the Word of God and was essential to Creation. The text deliberately calls to mind the opening lines of Genesis.

The ceiling fresco of Chiesa di Sant’Orsola in Como, Italy, painted by Giovanni Domenico Caresana, 1616

5. An even higher view of Christ is found in the Gospel of John: that Jesus is the Word of God — and, as such, is responsible for creating the world. 

The Gospel of John is the latest of the four, written in Greek 60 or so years after Jesus died, in a different part of the world — Ephesus, in modern-day Turkey. 

“For John,” Ehrman writes, “Jesus was an equal with God and even shared his name and his glory in his preincarnate state.”

Take John 5:17-18, one of many examples: “This was why the Jews sought all the more to kill him, because not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was also calling God his own Father, thereby making himself equal to God.”

Much discussion has taken place around the so-called Prologue of John, the first 18 verses of the book. It presents the most elevated view of Jesus’ divinity imaginable: “even before he appeared, he was the Logos of God himself, a being who was God, the one through whom the entire universe was created,” Ehrman explains. 

But if that was the case, and Jesus made such claims about himself, wouldn’t the earlier Gospels have mentioned it? There’s nothing to be found in Matthew, Mark or Luke, however. 

The four Gospel writers all have their own take on when Jesus became God.

Christ in mandorla with the Evangelists, from the Reichenau Illumination, early 11th century

Christians today tend not to take such a close look at the Gospels, not noticing the discrepancies and not aware of the historical evidence. It’s shocking to think that the form of Christianity practiced today doesn’t align with some of the views of the Four Gospels. John’s view of Jesus as one with (but somehow distinct from) God the Father has won out. But it seems as if it could easily have gone another way. –Wally

What Did the Earliest Christians Believe?

The original views of Christ differ significantly from current beliefs. No virgin birth, no divine status during his lifetime — instead, Jesus was a mortal like the rest of us, until God decided to resurrect him and he became the Son of God.

The first Christians didn’t believe that Jesus had been born of a virgin or was already divine. He was a typical human until God resurrected him.

The Resurrection by James Tissot, circa 1890

How can we know what the earliest Christians believed when the first writings about him are from 20 years after his death? 

Scholars turn to what’s called preliterary sources — that is, snippets of text, whether they’re hymns or creeds of faith, that have been inserted into later books of the Bible. You can tell they’re most likely earlier oral traditions that have been added because they not only use terminology found nowhere else in the works, but they also often present different theological views. 

For instance, in Romans 1:3-4, Paul describes Jesus as he “who was descended from the seed of David according to the flesh, who was appointed Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead.”

The first part expresses a long-held belief by Jesus’ followers: that he was the promised messiah from the line of King David. This is a surprising inclusion for Paul, the earliest Christian author; nowhere else does he emphasize Jesus’ messiahship. 

The second part of the Bible verse holds a key element of early Christian belief: Jesus became the Son of God at his resurrection. A similar snippet from Acts 13:32-33 posits the same view, even though that’s in stark contrast to what the author later writes (and is currently part of the Christian faith) — namely that Jesus was divine from the moment of his conception.

“There is no talk about Jesus being born of a virgin and certainly no talk of him being divine during his lifetime.”

— Bart D. Ehrman, “How Jesus Became God”

Jesus was said to have been resurrected and, some time after, ascended into Heaven to be with God.

The Ascension by Benjamin West, 1801

What’s most striking is that “there is no talk about Jesus being born of a virgin and certainly no talk of him being divine during his lifetime,” writes Bart D. Ehrman in How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher From Galilee, published in 2014. “He is a human figure, possibly a messiah. But then at a critical point of his existence, he is elevated from his previous lowly existence down here with us, the other mere mortals, to sit at God’s right hand in a position of honor, power and authority.”

Ehrman emphasizes the importance of this act: “the man Jesus is showered with divine favors beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, honored by God to an unbelievable extent, elevated to a divine status on a level with God himself, sitting at his right hand.”

This belief helped give a positive spin to a man whose followers must have been disheartened that their messiah didn’t destroy their oppressors but was instead tortured and executed by them. It certainly wasn’t what any of them was expecting of their hero. 

But Jesus’ “resurrection confirmed for them that even though he had not conquered his political enemies — the way the messiah was supposed to — God had showered his special favor on him by raising him from the dead,” Ehrman writes. 

Early Christians thought that Jesus was indeed their messiah despite having been crucified. God resurrected him and made him his adopted son and heir — with all the power and glory that involved.

The Resurrection of Christ by Rafael, 1502

Adopted Sons

To the people of the time, there wasn’t any stigma attached to being an adopted son — in fact, quite the opposite. In Ancient Rome, the adopted son was the chosen heir. “He was made great because he had demonstrated the potential for greatness, not because of the accident of his birth,” Ehrman explains. 

Take Julius Caesar. He had a son, Caesarion, with Cleopatra — but not too many people have heard of him. Instead, it’s his nephew and adopted son, Octavian, who has a major place in history: He went on to become Augustus, the first emperor of the Roman Empire.

So when the earliest Christians talked about Jesus being God’s adopted son, they were saying this: “He received all of God’s power and privileges. He could defy death. He could forgive sins. He could be the future judge of the earth. He could rule with divine authority,” Ehrman writes. “He was for all intents and purposes God.” –Wally