Manuscript Illumination: A Physical Link with the Divine

One of the most historically prolific forms of sacred art is manuscript illumination. Though found to some extent in other cultures and religions, it was especially beloved by Christians from the early Church through the Renaissance. From the impossible intricacy of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon knotwork to the capital flourishes, historiated initials and blackletter script of Gothic, manuscript illumination elevated the written word to a work of visual art, filling each page with vibrant colors, flowing nature-inspired patterns and figures who, though usually inspired by Scripture and the lives of the saints, were modeled after ordinary people of the time and so serve as a unique window into the medieval world.

Figure 1 Lindisfarne Gospels, "Chi-Rho" monogram at the start of the Gospel of Matthew

Alongside all of this are the famous marginalia, strange and wondrous creatures springing from the incredible creativity (and tedium) of the illuminators, blending classical mythological imagery with contemporary themes such as chivalry and hunting and fantastic grotesques to form fascinating and entertaining comic book-like scenes of their own. They also invented the speech-bubble (in the form of an unrolled scroll)!

Why did Catholics throughout history so cherish manuscript illumination? They were not mere symbols of wealth and power, contrary to the claims of many today. In fact, the most beautifully-decorated manuscripts were even treated as holy relics – on his mission to England, St. Augustine of Canterbury even used an illuminated manuscript as a visible sign of faith to draw the pagans to Christ through the power of beauty.

This gets to the heart of the question: medieval Catholics valued beauty as the transcendental unity of truth and goodness, drawing the mind and heart on an upward ascent to heavenly mysteries. By not only reading the sacred pages but also meditating on their beautiful imagery, readers could be led to contemplate the Faith through the sacramental imagination, just as icons and statues similarly uplift the soul to God in prayer.

Figure 2 Morgan Black Hours, “Pentecost”

Medieval people also believed that, since humans are incarnate, ensouled bodies, at once intellectual and sensible, a prolific use of imagery could aid memorization and comprehension of the texts. Like icons, manuscript illuminations used a symbolic vocabulary, such as hands pointing or gesturing, halos on the heads of holy figures, saints accompanied by specific implements and even the application of gold-leaf backgrounds (inspired by Byzantine icons) to represent a heavenly setting; in this way, miniatures in manuscripts served as spiritual puzzles whose clues could be deciphered to unlock the divine mysteries hidden within.

Based on the theology of Abbot Suger and St. Thomas Aquinas, light was understood as a material symbol of the divine light of God – this is why these pictures are called “illuminations,” because, through the use of gold and silver leaf and paints mixed with crushed glass, the intellect could be illuminated to perceive eternal realities through sensible imagery, thus sanctifying the imagination.

Like sacred music, medieval Catholics had a profound love for sacred art, believing strongly that humans are not merely physical, or just spirits driving a body like a vehicle, but truly incarnate beings, a harmony of soul and body which has the capacity to know God (capax Dei) but only through the mediation of the senses. This is why Christ came to us as a man, able to be known, touched and even consumed by us, so that God would no longer seem distant but live within us most intimately.

Figure 3 The Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, “June”