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Introduction to Rubens’ “St. Francis of Assisi Receiving the Stigmata”
Peter Paul Rubens’ “St. Francis of Assisi Receiving the Stigmata,” painted around 1635, is one of the most emotionally charged religious works of his late career. The painting shows the saint kneeling on a rocky ledge, his brown habit buffeted by wind, as rays of light shoot down from a seraphic Christ on the cross. Wounds open miraculously in his hands, side, and feet, mirroring those of the crucified Christ. A fellow friar recoils in awe in the background, while a skull and open book lie at the saint’s knees, reminders of mortality and contemplation.
Rubens transforms a relatively static miracle story into a vivid Baroque drama filled with movement, light, and spiritual intensity. The canvas is not simply a devotional image; it is an exploration of mystical experience, bodily suffering, and the desire to imitate Christ as fully as possible.
The Story of the Stigmata of St. Francis
The subject comes from accounts of St. Francis of Assisi’s life written in the thirteenth century. According to tradition, while Francis was praying on Mount La Verna in 1224, he experienced a vision of a six-winged seraph bearing the crucified Christ. As he contemplated this vision, wounds corresponding to Christ’s crucifixion—the stigmata—appeared on his body. From then until his death, Francis bore these marks as a sign of his radical conformity to Christ’s suffering.
Rubens captures the precise moment when the invisible becomes visible: the split-second in which the rays of light from the crucified seraph strike Francis and imprint the wounds. This moment fuses inner contemplation and outward transformation. The saint is not merely looking at Christ; he is being reshaped into Christ’s likeness.
Composition: Diagonals of Grace and Response
The composition is dominated by powerful diagonals that direct the viewer’s eye from heaven to earth and back again. At the upper left, in a burst of golden cloud, appears the seraphic Christ on the cross, surrounded by wings and radiating beams of light. These rays travel diagonally down toward the kneeling figure of Francis, highlighting his hands, side, and face. The saint’s body forms another diagonal, leaning slightly back and to the right, as though physically struck by an invisible force.
This interplay of diagonals creates a dynamic connection between the two main figures. Christ and Francis are not separate but locked in a visual and spiritual circuit. The rays link them, while Francis’ uplifted gaze completes the loop back toward the crucified seraph. Baroque art loved such movement because it conveys spiritual energy; nothing here is static.
On the lower left, the secondary figure of Brother Leo recoils with outstretched arms, his reaction forming yet another diagonal. His astonished posture highlights the overwhelming nature of the vision and gives the viewer a human reference point: this is what it looks like when a mortal witnesses the supernatural.
The landscape and tree branches echo these slanting lines. Rocks slope downward, branches curve across the sky, and clouds swirl. All of nature appears to vibrate with the impact of grace.
St. Francis: Mystical Union and Bodily Suffering
Rubens depicts St. Francis in the familiar brown habit of the Franciscans, tied with a rope. Yet the robe clings and folds in ways that reveal the body beneath, emphasizing that this is not an abstract spirit but a flesh-and-blood man. His knees press into the rock, his torso tilts, and his hands extend slightly, fingers curled with a mix of openness and shock.
The wounds of the stigmata are clearly visible: dark red slashes in the palms of his hands and a tear in his habit at the side revealing blood from a wound in his torso. These injuries connect him to the crucified Christ above, but Rubens avoids graphic gore. The blood is present but restrained, enough to show pain without becoming grotesque. This balance allows the viewer to contemplate suffering with reverence rather than horror.
Francis’ face is particularly expressive. His head tilts, his eyes widen, and his mouth opens slightly—as if caught between awe, agony, and ecstasy. This blend of emotions is typical of Baroque depictions of mystical experiences, where spiritual joy and physical pain coincide. Rubens makes clear that the saint does not simply endure the wounds; he receives them as a gift of love, even as his body recoils.
The cinched rope at his waist and bare feet emphasize poverty and humility. Francis is not a king or scholar but a humble friar, chosen precisely because of his radical simplicity and devotion. The miracle elevates this poverty into a sign of intimate unity with Christ.
The Seraphic Christ: Source of Light and Transformation
In the upper left, Rubens presents the crucified Christ combined with a seraph, following medieval descriptions. Christ’s body is nailed to the cross, but multiple wings surround him, and the whole form floats in radiant clouds. Rays of light emanate from his wounds and heart, slicing through the darker clouds to reach Francis.
The figure of Christ is less detailed than that of Francis—partly because of the distance and partly to maintain a sense of divine mystery. Yet we see enough to recognize a suffering yet glorified savior. His torso arches slightly, head bowed, but the position is more triumphant than defeated. This Christ is not in the moment of death but in the moment of radiating salvific power.
The light around him contrasts sharply with the shadowed rock and foliage below. Rubens uses strong chiaroscuro to mark the boundary between heaven and earth. The seraphic Christ appears in warm golden tones, while the lower part of the painting is cooler and darker. The rays that pierce the darkness visually enact the theological idea that grace breaks into the world’s shadows.
Brother Leo and the Human Witness
To the left of Francis, partly obscured by rock and foliage, Rubens includes another friar—traditionally identified as Brother Leo, Francis’ companion on La Verna. Leo’s presence is crucial to the story because he later testified about the miracle, providing the Church with human witness to validate the event.
In the painting, Leo throws one arm across his eyes, shielding them from the unbearable brightness of the seraphic vision. His other arm stretches upward, fingers spread in astonishment or fear. His mouth opens as if shouting or calling out. Through him, the viewer senses the power of the event not only on the mystic saint but on ordinary onlookers.
Leo’s position closer to the painting’s edge and partially in shadow suggests that he belongs more fully to our world than to the luminous realm of the vision. He stands in for the viewer, reacting as we might react if confronted with a sudden blaze of divine light. By including him, Rubens bridges the gap between sacred narrative and contemporary devotional experience.
Landscape, Skull, and Book: Symbols of Contemplation
The setting is a rocky hillside or mountain, likely alluding to La Verna. Rubens paints the rocks with rugged, textured strokes, highlighting their solidity and harshness. This inhospitable terrain underscores the severity of Francis’ ascetic life—withdrawn from comfort to seek God in solitude.
At the saint’s knees lie two classic symbols: a skull and an open book. The skull reminds viewers of mortality, a common motif in Christian art known as “memento mori.” It signifies the friar’s ongoing meditation on death and the transience of earthly life. Francis’ willingness to embrace the stigmata is rooted in his awareness that life is brief and best spent in union with Christ.
The book likely represents Scripture or spiritual writings. Its placement next to the skull suggests that contemplation of death is guided by divine revelation, not mere morbid fascination. Together, skull and book create a small still-life of Franciscan spirituality: poverty, meditation, and trust in God’s word.
Nearby, small plants and ivy cling to the rocks, adding a touch of life to the severe environment. They hint at hope and resurrection sprouting from the soil of sacrifice.
Light, Color, and the Baroque Sense of Drama
Rubens’ mastery of light and color is on full display. The upper portion of the painting glows with warm yellows and golds, centered on the seraphic Christ and radiating outward through the clouds. These warm tones gradually cool as they descend into the blues and greens of the distant landscape and the brownish grays of the rocks. The saint’s habit is painted in deep, earthy browns that anchor him to the ground, while his face and hands receive more light, creating a focal point.
Contrast is key. The beams from Christ’s wounds cut through darker clouds, illuminating select parts of the scene—Francis’ wounds, his uplifted face, the upper rocks—while leaving other areas in shadow. This selective lighting heightens the sense of divine intervention. The viewer’s eye follows the light like a guide, moving from heaven to the saint and back up again in a continuous devotional loop.
Rubens’ brushwork is energetic rather than overly smooth. In the clouds and foliage, strokes are loose and swirling, suggesting movement. In the faces and hands, he tightens his control to convey expression and form. This balance of painterly freedom and careful modeling is typical of his mature Baroque style.
Theological Meaning: Imitation of Christ and Mystical Union
The subject of the stigmata speaks directly to the Christian ideal of imitatio Christi—imitation of Christ. Francis does not merely follow Christ’s teachings; he longs to share Christ’s suffering for the salvation of others. The stigmata externalize this desire, marking his body with the same wounds that Christ bore on the cross.
Rubens emphasizes this union by aligning the rays of light and the positions of the wounds. The miracle is not random; it is a deliberate act of Christ, choosing Francis as a privileged recipient of his pain and love. The painting thus visualizes a theology of identification: the more closely a saint conforms to Christ in humility and charity, the more he or she may share in Christ’s glory and suffering.
At the same time, the work expresses the paradox of mystical experience. Francis appears overwhelmed, almost unsteady, yet deeply peaceful. He is both victim and beloved. The stigmata are painful, but they are also a gift. Rubens captures this tension in the tilt of his head, the softness of his expression, and the gentle fall of his hands.
Rubens’ Late Spiritual Sensibility
Painted toward the end of Rubens’ life, this canvas reflects his mature spiritual sensibility. Although widely known for his exuberant mythological scenes and portraits of rulers, Rubens was a devout Catholic steeped in the Counter-Reformation emphasis on saints, sacraments, and vivid devotional imagery. In his later years, he increasingly turned to subjects that combined drama with contemplative depth.
“St. Francis of Assisi Receiving the Stigmata” demonstrates this shift. While still full of Baroque energy, it is more introspective than some of his earlier altarpieces. The spectacle of light and movement serves a contemplative purpose: to draw the viewer into reflection on suffering, holiness, and the possibility of transformation.
Rubens’ own experience of aging and illness may have attuned him to this theme. As he dealt with physical limitations, the idea of uniting bodily pain with spiritual growth would have carried personal resonance. The painting thus bears witness not only to Francis’ mystical experience but also, in a more subtle way, to the artist’s meditation on his own mortality and faith.
Devotional Function and Viewer Experience
In a church setting, this painting would have served as a powerful aid to prayer. Worshipers could gaze on Francis’ rapt face and imagine themselves in his place, receiving streams of grace from the crucified Christ. The strong diagonal lines and radiant light guide the eye upward, encouraging a spiritual ascent even as the viewer stands on earth.
The presence of Brother Leo provides a secondary point of identification: for those who cannot imagine mystical union, there is the more accessible role of astonished witness. The skull and book offer concrete reminders of repentance and meditation, linking the miraculous event to everyday practices of faith.
Even today, viewers who do not share Rubens’ religious convictions can appreciate the painting’s exploration of intense human experience—its blend of terror, awe, and joy in the face of something beyond comprehension. The work invites contemplation of what it means to dedicate one’s entire being to an ideal, even at great personal cost.