Byzantine Art and Gospel Commentary:

The Case of Luke 13:6–9, 10–17*

François Bovon Nancy P. Ševčenko
Harvard University International Center of Medieval Art

 Introduction
This paper represents a conversation between two disciplines that too rarely enter
into dialogue: New Testament studies and the history of Byzantine art. Two gospel
passages have been chosen for analysis here: the first is a parable, the parable of
the fig tree (Luke 13:6–9); the second, which follows immediately upon the first,
is a miracle story that provokes a controversy (Luke 13:10–17). Both passages
appear exclusively in the Gospel of Luke. Our joint study will start with exegetical
notes on the Gospel of Luke and the history of the interpretation of these particular
verses and will then turn to the miniatures that illustrate them in an eleventh-century
Byzantine manuscript in the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Parisinus graecus
74 (figs. 1–2). François Bovon has interpreted the Gospel of Luke in a German
collection, the Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, a series
attentive to the history of the reception (Wirkungsgeschichte) of the biblical text in
the life of the Christian church.1 He will explain the two New Testament passages
and follow the path of patristic and Byzantine interpretation during these periods.
Nancy Ševčenko will then explore the question of whether, in the face of the artistic

*
The editors wish to thank Dr. Nancy P. Ševčenko, co-author of this article with our departed and
beloved colleague, Professor François Bovon (editor of Harvard Theological Review, 2000–2010),
for her work in overseeing the final editing of the essay.
Nancy Ševčenko writes: Casual discussions between the two authors of this article about an
eleventh-century illuminated Byzantine gospel book in Paris led us to this joint article. François
Bovon chose two passages from the Gospel of Luke that are illustrated in the Paris manuscript and
proposed that he and I together explore the extent to which the exegetical traditions of the relevant
gospel passages may have influenced the two accompanying miniatures. Sadly, this article was still
in progress at the time of François Bovon’s death in November 2013. I have tried to preserve his

HTR 109:2 (2016) 257–277

258 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

topoi that are such an essential component of this form of narrative illustration in
Byzantine art, it is possible to argue that the painter of the miniatures was influenced
by the reception of the Lucan text in the patristic and Byzantine periods.

 Two Lucan Passages

The two passages from Luke 13 read as follows:
6) Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard;
and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7)  So he said to the
gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig
tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’
8) He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and
put manure on it. 9) If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you
can cut it down.’ ”
10) Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. 11) And
just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for
eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight.
12) When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set
free from your ailment.” 13) When he laid his hands on her, immediately she
stood up straight and began praising God. 14)  But the leader of the syna-
gogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the
crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those
days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day.” 15) But the Lord answered
him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie
his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water?
16) And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound
for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?”
17) When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire
crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.2

There are a few observations to be made about the first passage: It was not
uncommon in antiquity to plant a fig tree in the middle of a vineyard. Hebrew
prophets and later Jesus and Luke used trees and plants as metaphors for Israel,
the people of God.3 Grammatical tenses help to fix the time frame of the situation:
the imperfect of duration, “he had” (εἶχεν), expresses the status of possession (v.
6); the punctual aorist, “he came” (ἦλθεν), expresses movement and the owner’s
expectation (v. 6). There is disappointment in the οὐ εὗρεν, “he did not find” figs
on the tree (v. 6). Like many stories in popular Greek literature and many dialogues

vision for the article as far as possible, as a tribute to a much-missed colleague and valued friend,
and I warmly thank the Harvard Theological Review for consenting to publish the results of our
investigations in his memory.
1
François Bovon, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (Lk 9,51–14,35) (2nd ed.; EKKNT 3.2; Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Patmos, 2008) 379–408.
2
Translation is taken from the NRSV.
3
See Isa 5:1–7; Jer 2:21, 8:13; Ezek 17:6, 19:10–11; Hos 9:10; and Mic 7:1; also see P. Ternant,
“L’homme ne peut empêcher Dieu d’être bon,” AsSeign 72 (1964) 36–52, at 41.
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 259

heard on the stages of theaters in antiquity, the parable includes only two people: the
owner (he remains anonymous: τις, v. 6) and his “vinedresser” (ἀμπελουργός, v.
7). The dissatisfied owner expresses both his frustration and his intention to cut the
tree down (v. 7). The vinedresser, though hierarchically inferior, takes charge of the
discussion and suggests that an additional year of hope, mercy, trust, and expectation
be granted to the vineyard. It is the vinedresser’s proposal that constitutes the final
word of the parable (v. 8).4
The second passage, which immediately follows the first, is not another parable
but a real story firmly fixed in sacred space (a synagogue) and sacred time (the day
of the Sabbath). It begins with a literary marker, καὶ ἰδού (“and just then,” v. 11).
But the story begins with an absence of story: nothing happens; there is no action.5
The woman is described in her desperate condition in a fourfold manner: she has a
“spirit of weakness,” her paralysis has lasted for eighteen years, she is cruelly bent
over, and she cannot stand up straight (v. 11). At last the narrative moves forward,
though not because of the woman’s initiative: it is Jesus who sees her, speaks to
her (v. 12), and then lays his hands on her (v. 13a). The narrator ends this first,
decisive part of the story by affirming the miraculous result: the woman is brought
back to an upright position and she expresses gratitude and praise to God (v. 13b).
But there is a counterpart to this miracle: a dispute arises, instigated by the
leader of the synagogue (v. 14). The evangelist of course defends Jesus’s point
of view6 and his definition of the Sabbath. Jesus asks two questions. The first is
didactic (“Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from
the manger?” v. 15). Since the same problem occurs in contemporary Jewish texts7
and receives there a range of solutions (often different from the solution found in
the Gospel of Luke), we can infer that there was much debate among the Jews of
that time over the question of what was allowed on the day of the Sabbath. The
second question—which shifts from a comparison to a concrete situation—is a
rhetorical question in the form of a conclusion (v. 16): Was it not appropriate
to heal this woman on the day of the Sabbath? As one would expect, Luke the
Evangelist approves of Jesus’s response in the last verse (v. 17). Similarly, the
Christian interpreters down to the fifteenth century CE would approve of the new
perspective that views the gospel in the framework of the Old Testament (see the
expression “daughter of Abraham,” v. 16).

4
The reader will find more details and additional bibliography in François Bovon’s Das
Evangelium nach Lukas, 379–408.
5
The literal translation of v. 11 reads, “And behold a woman having a spirit of disease for
eighteen years . . .” The verb “appeared” as found in the NRSV is not present in the Greek.
6
See also Luke 14:5 and Matt 12:11–12.
7
See, for example, the Damascus Document (CD 11.13–14). Found in Cairo, Egypt, more than
a century ago, this Damascus Document belongs to the same group of texts as the Dead Sea Scrolls.
260 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

 History of Reception in Late Antiquity and the Byzantine Period

The two passages chosen for our study were read, alluded to, and commented upon
from the second century CE on. The history of their reception begins in the patristic
period, when several remarks and interpretations made by the church writers show
that a few exegetical traditions were being gradually established. These early
exegeses will be presented here, along with two Byzantine interpretations of the
passages, interpretations that are approximately contemporaneous with our main
Greek manuscript, Parisinus graecus 74.
Irenaeus, at the end of the second century, is our earliest interpreter of the parable
of the fig tree. In his Adversus haereses,8 he cites the words of the owner (“For three
years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none,” v. 7) and
interprets them as saying that God has sent his prophets to collect from his people
fruits of repentance. He then considers that the additional year, the last opportunity
given to Israel, is now over. Without being explicit he interprets this year as the
generation between Jesus’s death and the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE. Thus for
Irenaeus, Israel is like a fallen tree. Irenaeus seems to be the first representative of
an exegetical tradition that both explains Israel’s refusal and invites Israel to accept
the Christian gospel. Ambrose of Milan and Cyril of Alexandria would become the
two main witnesses for that tradition.9
At the beginning of the third century CE, Tertullian wrote what can be considered
the oldest commentary on the Gospel of Luke. Since Marcion, his adversary,
accepted only a revised form of the Gospel of Luke as authoritative, Tertullian took
care to follow the third gospel step by step in book 4 of his Adversus Marcionem.
Reading Luke 13, the African rhetor underscores the continuity between the Mosaic
law and the Christian gospel (Marcion rejected the Hebrew Bible). According
to Tertullian, the question asked in verse 15 proves that Jesus did not reject the
Mosaic law in general—and the prescription concerning the Sabbath in particular—
but rather that he sought a correct understanding of the law: “Ergo secundum
condicionem legis operatus legem confirmauit, non dissoluit, iubentem nullum
opus fieri nisi quod fieret omni animae: quanto potius humanae?”10

8
Irenaeus of Lyon, Adversus haereses 4.36.8; see also ibid., 3.14.3, in Irenaeus, Contre les
hérésies. Livre IV (ed. Adelin Rousseau et al.; 2 vols.; SC 100; Paris: Cerf, 1982) 2:914–17.
9
See Ambrose of Milan, Expositio Evangelii secundum Lucan 7.160–72, in Ambrose of Milan,
Traité sur l’Évangile de S. Luc (ed. Gabriel Tissot; SC 52; Paris: Cerf, 1958) 67–72; Cyril of
Alexandria, Sermones in Lucam 96, in R. Payne Smith, A Commentary upon the Gospel according
to S. Luke, by S. Cyril (2 vols.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1859) 2:446–54; and François
Bovon, L’Évangile selon saint Luc 9,51–14,35 (CNT 2/3d; Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2009) 341.
10
Tertullian, Adversus Marcionem 4.30.1. “Thus, by having done this work according to the
terms of the law, [Christ] did not break but confirm the law, which commanded that no work should
be done but such as had been done for every living soul—and how much more for a human soul?”
(Tertullian, Adversus Marcionem [trans. Ernest Evans; Oxford: Clarendon, 1972] 435).
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 261

In the middle of the third century, Origen mentions the bent woman in his
Commentarii in evangelium Joannis.11 In his explanation of John 4:35 (“Lift up
your eyes . . .”12), the Alexandrian theologian bestows spiritual meaning upon this
human gesture. Beginning with the prophet Isaiah (Isa 40:26), he quotes several
biblical passages that refer to “the lifting of the eyes” as actually being a gesture of
the whole body. The spiritual meaning to be drawn from this rich biblical florilegium
is that “no true disciple of Jesus is below.”13 All Christians lift up their eyes and
heads and stand up straight: Furthermore (as for) “the woman who was bent and
completely unable to stand up straight, when Jesus set her upright she left behind her
being bent over in order to lift up her eyes.”14 Here begins one exegetical tradition.15
This tradition would later be attested in different theological and spiritual
contexts. In the fourth century, Gregory of Nazianzus would state that the curvature
is the result of a soul’s being bent under the power of sin.16 In another sermon he
summarizes: “Yesterday you were a Canaanite soul, bent by sin; today you have
been set up straight by the Word.”17
In the sixth century, Romanos the Melodist would sing in one of his hymns,
Why are you so slow, my poor soul? Why do you worry for what is not ap-
propriate, and why are you busy with all that will be useless in the coming
times, and why do you hold onto the present time as if it would be eternal?
The last [hour or day] is near and you should begin to consider what is vain:
stand up in the direction of Jesus, as [did] the bent woman.18 You have been

11
Only a small portion of Origen’s Homiliae in Lucam is preserved, and unfortunately it is not
concerned with our chapter.
12
I am not in favor of the translation of the NRSV: “Look around you.”
13
Origen, Commentarii in evangelium Joannis 13.42, in Der Johanneskommentar (ed. Erwin
Preuschen; vol. 4 of Origenes Werke; GCS 10; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1903) 274–78.
14
Ibid.
15
See also Origen, Contra Celsum 8.54, where we read the following: 1) Satan holds the woman
with bonds, and this is still the case today for many human beings; 2) only the divine Logos is able
to liberate ties, those of the woman and those of human beings, since he came down to have his
dwelling in Jesus; 3) Celsus is wrong: the Christians do not insult the demons—they fight against
them (Origen, Contre Celse [ed. Marcel Borret; SC 150; Paris: Cerf, 1969] 294–99).
16
Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 45, In Pascha 26 (PG 36:660).
17
Gregory of Nazianzus, Oratio 40, In baptismum 33 (PG 36:405–6). In the same oratio (40, In
baptismum 9 [PG 36:369–70]), Gregory speaks of the human counterpart of the divine gift of baptism
and interprets the merciful vinedresser and the manure spread around the tree in an anthropological
and ethical way rather than in a christological and soteriological one. The manure is an image for
the tears, the sighs, and the long vigils. See Gregory of Nazianzus, Discours 38–41 (ed. Claudio
Moreschini and Paul Gallay; SC 358; Paris: Cerf, 1990) 272–73 and 214–16.
18
The expression ἡ συνκύπτουσα, “the bent woman,” as a description of our woman from
Luke 13 has become a traditional name; in Luke 13:11, however, συνκύπτουσα is not yet a name
or a title, just a participle: the woman was συνκύπτουσα (she was bent over).
262 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

freed from your bonds; do not bend again your back, for there is no liberation
for self-subjection. Therefore, go back to yourself and wake up from sleep.
The groom comes. Let us not wait outside shouting: “Open!”19

From late antiquity the two most complete interpretations that have been
preserved—both of which came to have considerable success and influence—are
those of Ambrose of Milan (fourth century CE) in the Latin world and Cyril of
Alexandria (fifth century CE) in the Greek world.
Ambrose loves to play with words and images: he digs into the rhetoric of the
Bible and the natural sciences to develop his understanding of the fig tree.20 If he
is so interested in this tree it is because—as he says—there is here a “mystery.”
According to ancient botany and simple farming wisdom, the fig tree, unlike most
other trees, first brings forth fruit and only later sprouts leaves, followed by a second
crop of fruit. The first crop indicates metaphorically that Israel showed its absence
of fruit by the presence of multiple leaves. The second time, the “mystery,” is that
the Christians are the latter fruits, the good and true ones.
Ambrose also develops an idea first presented by Irenaeus—namely, that the
three years represent three periods in the life of Israel. For the bishop of Milan,
the first year is the era of Abraham, the second is that of Moses, and the third is
the generation introduced by Mary. In the following centuries, there would be
hesitation and different opinions with respect to the timing of these three periods,
but the periodization would remain a fixed interpretation.
The identity of the “vinedresser” (ἀμπελουργός) varies among the authors:
Ambrose interprets him here as the founder of the church, not as Christ (see 1 Cor
3:11) but as Peter (see Matt 16:18),21 since the church’s founder would be sent to the
Jews just as Paul would be sent to the Gentiles. Another interpretation, cited by Cyril
of Alexandria, views the vinedresser as an angel.22 The most frequent interpretation,
however, views him as the Son or Christ. The variety of interpretations corresponds
to a degree of uncertainty over the understanding of the fig tree itself. Most of the
time the fig tree is seen as representing Israel, but Ambrose, being a preacher—
and here again many would follow his wisdom—connects the fault of the fig tree
to the weakness of his own community. Therefore the treatment proposed (the
digging and the manure, understood spiritually) is valid for the church as well

19
Romanos the Melodist, Hymn 51, On the Ten Virgins, 1. See Romanos the Melodist, Hymnes
(ed. José Grosdidier de Matons; SC 283; Paris: Cerf, 1981) 298–99. Symeon the New Theologian
(Ethics 2.1) provides a list of Christians who, he believes, decided to adhere to Christ: among them
he includes the forgiven sinner woman of Luke 7, the prodigal son of Luke 15, and the woman who
lost blood (Luke 8:43–48) and was bent (Luke 13:11). Here he seems to merge the two women.
See Symeon the New Theologian, Traités théologiques et éthiques (ed. Jean Darrouzès; SC 122;
Paris: Cerf, 1966) 312–25.
20
Ambrose of Milan, Expositio Evangelii secundum Lucan 7.160–75.
21
Ibid., 7.167.
22
See Cyril of Alexandria, who himself identifies the vinedresser with the Son (Sermones in
Lucam 96); see Payne Smith, Commentary, 2:440.
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 263

as for the people of Israel.23 Floating around the Christian literature produced in
late antiquity is the idea that from the old tree of Jesse a new shoot was born (Isa
11:1);24 the new branch may be Christ, but it quickly comes to include the church.
Concerning our main topic, the parable’s meaning takes us first to the theological
problem of Israel and the church, and then to the problem of the ethical situation
of the church, thereby representing the new Israel in a good and in a bad sense.
Connecting diverse biblical passages, Ambrose was among the first of several
authors who also interpret the fig tree in connection with the notion of the two
peoples, Israel and the nations, illustrated by the apostle Paul in the parable of the
two olive trees in Rom 11:17–24.25 Cyril of Alexandria would later state that the
Gentiles had been grafted into the old trunk of Israel.26
From the fig tree, Ambrose moves to the story of the bent woman,27 whom he
views first as a figure of the synagogue and then as a figure of the church.28 After
the period of the law and the event of Christ’s resurrection, the woman is healed and
can stand up straight again. Her miraculous cure granted by Jesus was a good deed;
hence it cannot be condemned even though it was performed during the Sabbath.
Although the details of his interpretation vary from those of Ambrose’s, Cyril’s
Sermones in Lucam 96 applies the same hermeneutical method. The Alexandrian
bishop considers the literal meaning to be so clear that it is spared comment.
Interpretation is needed, however, at the metaphorical level: the fig tree is the
synagogue and the three years represent the time of Moses and Aaron, the time of
Joshua, and the time of John the Baptist. The vinedresser may represent different
persons: the guardian angel of the synagogue, or Christ the Son of God. In
accordance with many others—beginning with Irenaeus—Cyril is of the opinion that
the additional year of grace has already been completed. Regarding the miraculous
healing of the bent woman, Cyril claims that the Sabbath is not broken when God
extends mercy.29
A Greek catena published by Cramer in the nineteenth century preserves a
fragment attributed to Isidore of Pelousion, a theologian who authored many letters
and died around 435 CE.30 Isidore’s interpretation of the parable is here allegorical,
23
Ambrose of Milan, Expositio Evangelii secundum Lucan 7.171.
24
See ibid., 3.8.
25
Ibid., 7.164–70.
26
Cyril of Alexandria, Sermones in Lucam 96, in Payne Smith, Commentary, 2:450.
27
Ambrose, Expositio Evangelii secundum Lucan 7.173–75.
28
The metaphoric understanding of a woman as a figure of the church is as old as the apostle
Paul; see 2 Cor 11:2.
29
The end of sermon 96, as well as sermons 97 and 98, is lost in the Syriac version. The end
of sermon 96, which interests us here, can be restored through fragments of Greek chains (Payne
Smith, Commentary, 2:450). See another preacher, Pseudo-Chrysostom, who connects the two
stories in Luke 13:6–17 (De remissione peccatorum [PG 60:759–64]): while the parable tells how
Jesus binds the tree, the miracle story shows how Jesus unbinds the woman.
30
See Catenae graecorum patrum in Novum Testamentum (ed. J. A. Cramer; 8 vols.; Oxford:
E Typographeo Academico, 1844) 2:107.
264 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

but the details of his exegesis are original: the fig tree is not so much Israel as the
whole of humankind. If the owner is God, as everyone agrees, then the vinedresser
can only be the Son. And the three years, in accordance with his understanding
of the fig tree as humankind, are three events related to formidable human faults:
1) the fall from paradise, 2) the worship of the golden calf, and 3) the rejection of
Christ with the cry “Caesar is our king.”31
From the sixth century on, exegesis of the New Testament was gradually
becoming less original and creative. Bishops and theologians preferred to preserve
the Christian heritage. This is the period of catenae.32 From the sixth to the twelfth
century no fewer than five different catenae of the Gospel of Luke have survived.33
Exegesis in a philological and spiritual sense persisted, but the historical framework
changed. Byzantine categories were added to the biblical traditions. This situation
inspired the illustrations of the gospels.
Theophylact was born in Euboea in the middle of the eleventh century CE.
As a biblical commentator, he preferred to present a range of possible meanings
instead of selecting one interpretation. His commentary on Luke offers a choice
among three different interpretations of the fig tree: 1) the generation of the Jews,
2) all human beings, and 3) the individual. Accordingly, the owner’s three visits
receive different meanings: in the first interpretation they represent the times of
Moses, the prophets, and Jesus; in the second Adam’s fall, the golden calf, and the
condemnation of Jesus; and in the third natural law, the Mosaic law, and spiritual
law, or even—and this is Theophylact’s own preference—childhood, adulthood,
and old age. Theophylact hesitates over the interpretation of the owner of the
vineyard: he can either be Christ or God the Father. The vinedresser can be the
guardian angel or a human being.34

31
See also Maximus the Confessor: “The bent woman is either nature or the soul bent with regard
to the whole intellectual power concerned with action through the devil’s deceit” (Quaestiones ad
Thalassium 41 [CCSG 7:279]). See also Maximus Confessor, Quaestiones et dubia 176 (CCSG 10:21).
32
See Lukas-Kommentare aus der griechischen Kirche aus Katenenhandschriften (ed. Joseph
Reuss; TUGAL 130; Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1984); Michel Aubineau, “Les ‘Catenae in Lucam’
de J. Reuss et Cyrille d’Alexandrie,” ByzZ 80 (1987) 29–47; François Bovon, “De saint Luc à saint
Thomas en passant par saint Cyrille,” in ΒΟΥΚΟΛΕΙΑ. Mélanges offerts à Bertrand Bouvier (ed.
Anastasia Danaé Lazaridis et al.; Geneva: Édition des Belles Lettres, 1995) 93–102.
33
One of them should be mentioned here. It was produced by Niketas of Herakleia, who lived
around the end of the 11th cent., close to the time of Parisinus graecus 74. Unfortunately the one
study available on that catena does not provide an edition of the text but only the identification
of the fragments of Niketas’s work according to the Athos manuscript Iviron 371. See Christos T.
Krikônês, Συναγωγή Πατέρων εἰς τὸ κατὰ Λουκᾶν Εὐαγγέλιον ὑπὸ Νικήτα Ἡρακλείας
(κατὰ τὸν κώδικα Ἰβήρων 371) (Thessaloniki: Κέντρον Βυζαντινῶν Ἐρευνῶν, 1973), and see
also Michel Aubineau’s review in ByzZ 70 (1977) 118–21. On pages 354–59 Krikônês mentions
the lemmata of approximately fifty passages related to Luke 13:6–17 quoted by Niketas and gives
references to the editions, particularly to PG.
34
Theophylact, Enarratio in Evangelium Lucae 13 (PG 123:912–16); for a translation see The
Explanation by Blessed Theophylact of the Holy Gospel according to St. Luke (trans. Christopher
Stade; House Springs, MO: Chrysostom, 1997) 166–68.
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 265

Turning then to the story of the bent woman, Theophylact insists the key to
understanding it is to see in it tensions between God and Satan. Since the woman
is guilty of sin, in the first part of the story God remains inactive and allows Satan
to be active. But in the second part, through Jesus’s voice, energy, and power, God
heals the human being. Theophylact explains that only incarnation—the divine
really entering into human beings—makes possible the liberation, healing, and
redemption of people like this woman. The voice of Jesus in Luke 13 represents
Jesus’s divine nature, the power of the Logos. But Jesus’s gesture (the laying on
of his hands) makes manifest his human nature.35
Toward the end of his commentary on this miracle, Theophylact sums up the
long tradition mentioned earlier: “You must also understand these miracles refer
to the inner man. The soul is bent over in infirmity whenever it inclines to earthly
thoughts alone and imagines nothing that is heavenly and divine. It can truly be said
that this soul has been infirm for eighteen years.”36 He concludes by saying that the
Lord heals such souls and that he does it on the Sabbath in the synagogue. Playing
with the word “synagogue,” which in Greek literally means “assembly,” he views
the moment of healing to be when the soul assembles her thoughts and remains
quiet, resting from any form of evil, literally respecting the Sabbath, the day of rest.
Euthymios Zigabenos was active around 1100 CE. Little is known of this man’s
life. He lived as a monk in Constantinople and produced, with the collaboration
of John Phournes and at the request of Emperor Alexios I, a refutation of all the
heresies.37 He also wrote several commentaries, including a commentary on the
Gospel of Luke.38
It is interesting to see how in the early twelfth century a shared understanding
of the parable of the fig tree and the story of the miraculous healing of the bent
woman had become established in the Byzantine world. It is therefore probable
that Zigabenos’s reading of Luke 13 was already widespread during the time
when Parisinus graecus 74 was produced less than a century earlier.39 The
manuscript received some impact from this exegetical tradition, particularly in
an ecclesiological perspective: the dimensions of the world and of the church had
become larger than before.

35
Theophylact, Enarratio in Evangelium Lucae 13 (PG 123:916–17); for a translation see
Explanation by Blessed Theophylact (trans. Stade), 168–70.
36
Theophylact, Enarratio in Evangelium Lucae 13 (PG 123:917); for the translation see
Explanation by Blessed Theophylact (trans. Stade), 170.
37
See Alexander Kazhdan and Anthony Cutler, “Zigabenos, Euthymios,” in Oxford Dictionary
of Byzantium (3 vols.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991) 3:2227.
38
Euthymios Zigabenos, Commentarius in quatuor Evangelia. Evangelium secundum Lucam
(PG 129:853–1102).
39
Ibid., PG 129:1000–1.
266 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

Regarding the parable of Luke 13, Zigabenos considers the vineyard to be the
world and the fig tree to be the synagogue. The leaves are not viewed negatively,
for they represent the law and the prophets, but if they are not accompanied by
fruits, namely virtuous actions, they remain useless. The owner is God the Father
and the vinedresser is Christ. The three years—this is where the innovations of
Zigabenos are most visible—correspond to the time of the judges, the time of the
kings, and the time of the high priests. If the Father intends to cut down the fig
tree, it is, Zigabenos insists, because it takes away the energy of the earth without
profit (you have the root, ἀργήν, “inactive,” “lying fallow,” within the phrase τὴν
γῆν καταργεῖ, “wastes the soil,” v. 7). But if the Son offers an additional year,
it is because of his mercy during the period of his incarnation, namely during the
time of his earthly ministry. The digging is Jesus’s care for souls, and the spreading
of manure represents the period from the time of Irenaeus on; the destruction of
Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 CE is a historical reality that confirms what is only
a potential outcome, envisaged as a threat, at the end of the parable: “But if not,
you can cut it down” (v. 9).
The bent woman, as we know by now, represents humanity made weak by
Satan’s spiteful abuse and weighed down by passions, drawn to the ground, unable
by herself to stand up straight and look at the sky and to contemplate divine and
intellectual realities. Christ has pity on her. Here again we meet Jesus’s divine
and human activity. Jesus’s affirmation—“Woman, you are set free from your
ailment” (v. 12)—stands as an expression of his divine word, while the action of his
body—“When he laid his hands on her . . .” (v. 13)—manifests his human nature:
διὸ καὶ ταχέως αὐτὴν ἐθεράπευσε, λόγω μέν, ὡς θεός, ἐπιθέσει δὲ χειρῶν, ὡς
ἄνθρωπος. Jesus, as the woman’s creator, calls her through the gospel and brings
her back up straight so that she can look at the heavenly realm.40
Like many other exegetes, Zigabenos interprets Jesus’s dispute with the head
of the synagogue as an illustration of the dispute between Christians and Jews
over the meaning of the Mosaic law. He considers the Jews to be guilty for not
understanding the true, spiritual value of the law.

 Codex Parisinus graecus 74 and Its Gospel Text

One of the few Byzantine manuscripts that illustrates these Lucan passages is a
gospel book in Paris (Bibliothèque nationale Parisinus graecus 74).41 Belonging to
a small group of manuscripts referred to as “frieze” gospels because of the strip-
40
Ibid., PG 129:1001C
41
Christian Förstel, conservator of Greek manuscripts at the Bibliothèque nationale de France,
was kind enough to answer our queries and to check several points for us, there being as yet no
full scholarly description of this important manuscript. We are very grateful to Dr. Förstel for his
time and expert assistance. Henri Omont devotes exactly one line to Parisinus graecus 74 in his
Inventaire sommaire des manuscrits grecs de la Bibliothèque nationale. Première partie: Ancien
fonds grec, théologie (Paris: Picard, 1886) 10. He claims that it dates from the 12th cent. CE. This
scholar also published in black and white the illuminations of Parisinus graecus 74 in another
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 267

like character of their illumination, the Paris manuscript contains over 370 separate
miniatures.42 Some of these may illustrate successive gospel passages within one
miniature, while others illustrate different moments of a single event. When the

publication: Henri Omont, Évangiles avec peintures byzantines du XIe siècle. . . . Reproduction des
361 miniatures du manuscrit grec 74 de la Bibliothèque nationale (2 vols.; Paris: Berthaud, 1908).
The two-page introduction concentrates on the illustrations and gives a minimum of information
on the manuscript. The reader finds more information in Jean-Pierre-Paulin Martin, Description
technique des manuscrits grecs relatifs au Nouveau Testament conservés dans les bibliothèques
de Paris (Paris: Leclerc, 1884) 60–62. The most recent article relating to Parisinus graecus 74 is
Irmgard Hutter, “Theodoros βιβλιογράφος und die Buchmalerei in Studiu,” Bollettino della Badia
Greca di Grottaferrata 51 (1997) 177–208, plus seven plates. Some observations based on a firsthand
examination of the manuscript will be offered here, but no attempt is made at a full codicological
description. The codex, which is made from parchment of good quality, measures 235 × 200 mm
and contains 215 folios. Its quires are regular quaternions. The ruling system is Leroy system 1, type
65C1 dex. Each page is ruled with twenty-eight lines in a single column. The script is Perlschrift,
the letters slightly inclined to the right and pendant from the horizontal line. The ink is a medium
brown; the initials are gold over carmine. Divisions in the text are marked by small red crosses (the
equivalent of the later division into verses); the references to the Eusebian numbering are written
in the margin, generally in gold ink (for example, ρξε’ [=165] at fol. 138v, at the beginning of the
miracle story of the bent woman). (In the Novum Testamentum Graecum, unit 165 begins only at
Luke 13:14.) The initial letter of the Lucan text corresponding to such units in Eusebius’s canons
is also written in gold. If a paragraph begins between two Eusebian canon units (as in the lower
part of fol. 138v), the initial is more modestly written in red ink. Often in the upper margin one
can read in small capitals the traditional title given to the biblical story written on the page; this
title is preceded by the number of the unit according to the Eusebian numbering system. At fol.
140r, for example, one reads ΝΒ (= 52), πὲ (for περὶ) τοῦ ὑδρωπικοῦ (concerning the man with
dropsy), a story mentioned in Luke 14:1–6. Finally, one is not surprised to find nomina sacra used
in the usual way. See, for example, fol. 138v at the end of line 2: κε [with a line covering both
letters] for κύριε, “Lord.”
As a gospel book, the manuscript is unusual for what has been omitted. It lacks any prefatory
material explaining the Eusebian tables, and it lacks the actual canon tables themselves. There are
no full-page evangelist portraits. The text is not adapted in any way for liturgical use (there are no
marginal indications of the occasion at which certain gospel passages are to be read, no musical
notation over the passages to be sung, etc.). It lacks any accompanying commentary of the kind
sometimes found in the margins surrounding the gospel text. Emphasis would seem to be entirely
on the literal illustration of the text.
42
One of Omont’s statements, that there are 372 miniatures, has been confirmed by Christian
Förstel. This figure includes the pylai at the beginning of each of the gospels. The other Greek
“frieze” gospel book is today in the Biblioteca Laurenziana in Florence (Plut. VI.23). For a
thorough description of this manuscript and earlier bibliography, see I vangeli dei popoli. La parola
e l’immagine del Cristo nelle culture e nella storia (ed. Francesco D’Aiuto, Giovanni Morello,
and Ambrogio M. Piazzoni; Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2000) no. 56. Its 294
miniatures, comprising a total of 750 scenes, have been published in full by Tania Velmans as Le
Tétraévangile de la Laurentienne, Florence, Laur. VI. 23 (Paris: Klincksieck, 1971). The Florence
manuscript is a slightly later, slightly smaller codex than the Parisinus; it was probably produced
around the year 1100. It was copied in the 13th cent. in Armenia (Erevan, Matenadaran 7651) and
may have entered the library of Lorenzo dei Medici by 1494. It illustrates the Lucan passages on
fols. 136v and 137r (Velmans, Tétraévangile, figs. 231–32).
268 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

same event is recounted in another gospel, it is illustrated each time, despite the
inevitable duplication. The richness of this miniature program is unparalleled in
Byzantine manuscript illumination.43
The close relationship of the script and painting style of Parisinus graecus 74
to the so-called “Theodore Psalter” (London, British Library Add. 19352), written
and illustrated in 1066 in the monastery of Studios in Constantinople, has led to
the manuscript’s having been attributed to that famous center, and to the hand of
the scribe Theodore bibliographos himself.44 The Paris manuscript is thought to
be roughly contemporary with the psalter.
Before we move to an analysis of the miniatures, a few words should be said
about the different text forms of the gospels that are represented in late antiquity
and in Parisinus graecus 74 in particular. This is well known to the biblical scholar
43
The Paris codex (or a near relative thereof) was copied twice in Georgia in the 12th cent. and
in Bulgaria in the 14th cent.; the Bulgarian manuscript was then itself copied twice (once directly,
once indirectly) in Romania in the 16th and early 17th cents. For the Georgian gospels, see the Gelati
Gospels (Tbilisi, Institute of Manuscripts Q 908) (where only the Gospel of John copies Parisinus
graecus 74) and the Second Džruči Gospels (H 1667), in The Treasures of Georgia (ed. Vaxtang
Beridze; trans. Bruce Penman; London: Century, 1984) 122, 125–29, 134, 136, 138; Alexander
Saminsky, “Masterskaya Gruzinskoi i Grečeskoi knigi v Konstantinople XII—načala XIII veka,”
Muzej 10 (1989) 184–216, esp. 204–11. For the Bulgarian gospels, see the Gospels of Tsar Ivan
Alexander (London, British Library Add. 39627, dated 1355/1356), in Bogdan Filov, Les miniatures
de l’évangile du roi Jean Alexandre à Londres (Sofia: Durzhavna pechatnitsa, 1934); Ekaterina
Dimitrova, The Gospels of Tsar Ivan Alexander (London: British Library, 1994). For the Romanian
gospels, see the Gospels of Voievod Alexander II Mircea of Wallachia (Monastery of Sucevita 23)
and of Voievod Jeremiah Movila of Moldavia (Bucharest, Muzeul de Istorie, Sucevita 24, dated
1607), in Sirarpie Der Nersessian, “Two Slavonic Parallels of the Greek Tetraevangelion: Paris 74,”
Art Bulletin 9 (1927) 1–52; Gheorghe Popescu-Valcea, Romanian Miniatures (Bucharest: Editura
Meridiane, 1998) 36–42. See also idem, Un manuscris al voievodului Alexandru al II-lea and Un
manuscris al voievodului Ieremia Movila, both with French summaries, both Bucharest: Meridiane,
1984. Note also the Bulgarian Elisavetgrad Gospels (Moscow State Library, Muz. Sobr. 9500), in Emil
Dragnev, O capodoperă a miniaturii din Moldova medievală. Tetraevanghelul de la Elizavetgrad şi
manuscrisele grupului Parisinus graecus 74 (Chisinau: Civitas, 2004) and a later Romanian version
dependent on Sucevita 24, namely the Gospels of Anastasios Crimka, metropolitan of Moldavia
(Lvov, Univ. I. AZ, dated 1615–1617), in Sirarpie Der Nersessian, “Une nouvelle réplique du Paris
gr. 74 et les manuscrits d’Anastase Crimcovici,” in Études byzantines et arméniennes (Louvain:
Imprimerie orientaliste, 1973) 265–78. The Romanian codex Sucevita 23 copies the Gospels of Ivan
Alexander, which was in Romania at that time.
44
Hutter, “Theodoros,” passim, esp. 189. The colophon is on fol. 208r of the London manuscript
(Hutter, “Theodoros,” fig. 5). For the Theodore Psalter, see Sirarpie Der Nersessian, L’illustration des
psautiers grecs du moyen âge, II: Londres, Add. 19. 352 (Paris: Klincksieck, 1970) and the electronic
(CD) facsimile, Theodore Psalter (ed. Charles Barber; Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press,
2000). On the Barberini Psalter, also attributed to the hand of Theodore, see Jeffrey C. Anderson,
Paul Canart, and Christopher Walter, The Barberini Psalter: Codex Vaticanus Barberinianus Graecus
372 (Zurich: Belser, 1989), esp. Paul Canart, “Analyse codicologique et paléographique,” 30–37.
Theodore, the scribe and gilder, was not a painter himself but worked with a team of miniaturists
(Hutter, “Theodoros,” esp. 194–201). On the scriptorium at the Stoudíou monastery, see also
Nikephoros X. Eleopoulos, Ἡ βιβλιοθήκη καὶ τὸ βιβλιογραφικὸν ἐργαστήριον τῆς μονῆς
τῶν Στουδιού (Athens, 1967); Brunero Salucci, La scuola calligrafica del monastero bizantino di
Studios (Messina: Casa Editrice G. D’Anna, 1973).
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 269

but not necessarily to the Byzantine historian. Ever since the discovery of the main
uncial manuscripts of the fourth and the fifth centuries, such as the Sinaiticus (‫א‬
= 01), the Vaticanus (B = 03), and the oldest papyri (Chester Beatty [P45] or [P75]
Bodmer), New Testament scholars have preferred the Egyptian form of the text,
which generally is short and precise: they consider this form to be the closest to
the original.45 Recent French scholars,46 however, have insisted on a rival form of
the New Testament text in the second century, called the Western form because one
of its most ancient and famous witnesses is a bilingual manuscript in Greek and
Latin, the Codex Bezae (D = 05), named after Theodore Beza, the French reformer
of Geneva, who received it and then gave it to the University of Cambridge (UK),
where it is still housed. This form of the text is also known in the East and is attested
in the writings of several authors who lived in Syria (it is also present in the oldest
Syriac quotations of the New Testament).
What we read in Parisinus graecus 74—and this is no surprise—is neither the
old Egyptian text nor the so-called Western text, but what is known as the imperial
or Byzantine text,47 a later form that valued quantity over quality and established
itself throughout the Byzantine Empire.48 For example, in the parable of the fig
tree, the Egyptian text reads εἰς τὸ μέλλον (in the future) in connection with the
expected fruit (“if it gives fruit in the future,” v. 9), whereas the Byzantine text—and
our Parisinus graecus 74—places these three words within the next clause (“If this
is not the case”), reading it as “If this is not the case in the future” (v. 9). To take
another example, in Luke 13:19, written still on fol. 139r, the text has the adjective
μέγαν after δένδρον, in agreement with the imperial text and against the majority
of witnesses of the Egyptian text.

 The Miniatures of Parisinus graecus 74 and Gospel

Commentary
Parisinus graecus 74 is a witness to the gospels, the Gospel of Luke in particular,
not only through its text, but also through its many illustrations. These images
reinforce the written text and activate the reader’s sense of sight. In this section of
our article we shall examine the miniatures in Parisinus graecus 74 that illustrate
the parable of the fig tree and the miracle of the bent woman, after which we

45
See the introduction to NA28 (1–88); Kurt and Barbara Aland, The Text of the New Testament:
An Introduction to the Critical Editions and to the Theory and Practice of Modern Textual Criticism
(trans. Erroll F. Rhodes; 2nd ed.; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989) 48–71; as well as the work
of the Institut für neutestamentliche Textgeschichte in Münster in Westphalia, Germany.
46
See, for example, Léon Vaganay and Christian Bernard Amphoux, Initiation à la critique
textuelle du Nouveau Testament (Paris: Cerf, 1986) 135–84.
47
In the numbering of the Greek manuscripts of the New Testament that Gregory established
(Caspar René Gregory, Textkritik des Neuen Testamentes [Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1909] 174), Parisinus
graecus 74 is listed among the minuscule manuscripts of the Four Gospels as number 269.
48
On this form of the text of the New Testament, see Vaganay and Amphoux, Initiation à la
critique, 162–84.
270 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

shall pose the question: To what extent, if any, do these miniatures convey an
interpretation of the gospel text, and if so, to what extent do they reflect the patristic
exegetical traditions well-established in the Byzantine period and/or contemporary
Byzantine commentaries on the Gospel of Luke? In what follows, we shall analyze
each miniature first for its iconographic content and then in light of the written
commentaries.
Each image in Parisinus graecus 74 is placed so as to follow the text it illustrates.
Folio 138v starts in the middle of the parable story, in Luke 13:7 (καὶ οὐ εὑρίσκω,
“and still I find none”). The parable of the fig tree, a strip-like miniature spanning
the full width of the text block, is inserted after verse 10 (ἐν τοῖς σάββασιν, “on the
Sabbath”) (see fig. 1).49 Below the miniature are fifteen more lines of text recounting
the miracle of the bent woman (Luke 13:11–16), which then continues onto fol.
139r. The miniature illustrating the miracle on this folio (see fig. 2) is inserted below
verse 17, (τοῖς γινόμενοις ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ, “that he was doing”), that is, at the very end
of the miracle text, even though the image relates to the miraculous healing of the
bent woman more than to the controversy that follows. Verses 11–17 constituted
for the Byzantines, as for us, a literary unit. Below the miniature are fifteen more
lines of text (Luke 13:18–22), the last eight lines being shortened to make room for
a miniature illustrating the parable of the mustard seed at the lower right.
At the center of the parable miniature on fol. 138v is a lush leafy tree with a
gold trunk. A spur branch, cropped and devoid of leaves, projects out to the right
from the base of the main trunk. Two figures stand alongside the tree: the one to
the left is clad in a long gold tunic with a blue collar and hem, while the figure on
the right, who appears to be somewhat younger, wears a short red tunic and blue
leggings. The two men are addressing each other across the tree, which is clearly the
subject of their dialogue; in each case one hand is raised in speech while the other
points down toward the tree. To the right and left of the figures are four flourishing
grapevines, with gold trunks and wavy branches covered with recognizable vine
leaves. A rolling green groundline connects the various parts of the composition.
The miniature is unframed.50
The miniature follows the story fairly faithfully. The tree is indeed planted in
a vineyard and indeed bears no fruit. The two figures are clearly identifiable: the
man on the left, with his long tunic, is the owner of the vineyard, and the man on
49
The miniature is inserted not below the end of the parable text, as we might expect, but below
the first verse of the miracle text.
50
Illustrations of the parable in Byzantine art are extremely rare. In the Paris manuscript of
the Sacra Parallela, we see Christ addressing the apostles, standing above a tree in leaf (Paris,
Bibliothèque nationale gr. 923, fol. 319r): see Kurt Weitzmann, The Miniatures of the Sacra Parallela,
Parisinus graecus 923 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979) 177, fig. 461. The only other
illustrations of the parable are those found in the various frieze gospels (see n. 40 above): see Florence
Gospels, fol. 136v, in Velmans, Tétraévangile, fig. 231; London, British Library Add. 39627, fol.
179v, in Ekaterina Dimitrova, The Gospels of Tsar Ivan Alexander (London: British Library, 1994)
fig. 25. In general, miracle cycles were far more popular as subject matter in Byzantine painting
than were parables.
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 271

the right, in short work clothes, is the vinedresser, the gardener. Both men raise
their hands in speech. Nothing about the tree tells us for certain that it is a fig tree,
but its lush compact shape and the strongly projecting dead branch are unique to
this miniature: most of the trees depicted in this manuscript—and there is at least
one on almost every page—are spindly, with narrow wavy trunks, two tiers of
leaves, and smaller, more decorative, spur branches.51 The broad dead branch in
our miniature evokes, perhaps intentionally, images of the tree that figures in the
famous warning of John the Baptist that every tree that does not bear good fruit
will be cut down.52 The miniature offers us all the essential ingredients of the story:
the setting in a vineyard, the dialogue between the owner and the gardener, and
the contrast in roles between the two men and between the lush leaves of the tree
and the dead branch. But its full meaning cannot be grasped without knowledge
of the text of the parable.
A theologian familiar with the patristic and Byzantine commentaries on the
parable would argue that the setting of the scene is not neutral. It reminds us of the
well-known metaphor in which the vineyard refers to the people of God. Israel is
compared to a vineyard in both testaments (see for example Isa 5:1–7 and Luke
20:9–19). The miniature thus expresses the continuity between the biblical period
and the time of biblical interpretation. In the center of the illustration is the fig tree,
which is also central in the parable. The image of the trunk, which is divided in two
(one half dry and cut off, the other full of leaves), can possibly be interpreted with
reference to the Pauline parable of the two olive trees, as if the green part were the
church of the Gentiles grafted into the old trunk of Israel (Rom 11:16–32). But,
although this Pauline passage should not be neglected, the most notable aspect of
the tree is its foliage: for the painter, the abundance of leaves is as evident as the
absence of fruit. If this is taken as a warning to the people of Israel, it may also be
a warning to the church.
As for the two men, the one on the left has a long robe: he does not work; he
inspects. His two arms convey strong body language. One arm says, “Look at
this foliage without fruit”; the other draws the conclusion: pointing to the trunk,
it suggests that the fig tree be cut down. The pose of the gardener, slightly bent
in the direction of the tree, expresses his care, attitude, and intention. One arm
agrees with the owner: it is true that the fig tree carries only leaves and thus far has
produced no fruit. But the other extends toward the bottom of the tree and, with

51
The fig trees that form the centerpiece of the miniatures illustrating the parable of the barren
fig tree in Matthew and Mark (fol. 42r, 88v; Omont, Évangiles, figs. 36, 78) look quite different from
the fig tree in our miniature. For closer parallels, see the fig tree on fol. 170r and the anonymous
trees on fols. 38r, 137v, 143r, and 158v (Omont, Évangiles, figs. 147; 32, 120, 125, and 136). For
men working in the vineyard, see fol. 39v (Omont, Évangiles, pl. 33).
52
“Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good
fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Matt 3:10; see similarly Luke 3:9).
272 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

some hesitation, indicates the earth. He is ready to work and to give the tree one
last chance. We should note the absence of tools in this scene: it is not the proper
time to work; it is—at this precise moment—the time of visitation and inspection.
The second miniature, the one illustrating the miracle of the bent woman, is
located on the facing recto (fol. 139r), immediately beneath the concluding words
of the text it illustrates (Luke 13:17). It again centers on two figures, here Christ
and the bent woman. Christ on the left is clad in a blue tunic and a gold himation
that swirls behind him, and he raises his hand in speech toward the bent woman,
who faces him from the right.53 Her rounded back is so hunched as to form a right
angle with her lower body: her hands, stretched out before her, rest on two short
wooden crutches. Her head is slightly raised. Her tunic is gold, and her maphorion,
which covers her upper body and her head, is a brilliant red. Christ does not lay his
hands on the woman, as is recounted in Luke 13:13, but apparently heals her with
his words alone: “Woman, you are set free from your ailment” (Luke 13:12).54 Her
subsequent recovery is not illustrated. The composition is expanded to include two
groups of standing figures: three haloed apostles behind Christ and a large number
of Hebrews to the right, hooded and dressed in long tunics with colored collars and
hems.55 The foremost among them, evidently the leader of the synagogue, wears a
gold mantle. Both the Jews and the apostles react visibly to the central event. As
though to balance their lesser number, a masonry tower has been painted behind
the apostles; it has gold battlements and a tall gold door, which is shut. Small blue
bushes grow from the rolling greenish groundline that connects the figures. The
tower and the landscape are traditional motifs found throughout this manuscript
in many different contexts; they do not apparently play any specific role in the
narrative here.56
Representations of the miracle of the bent woman are not uncommon in
Byzantine art. Details vary, but there are two main distinctions to be noted between
the regular iconography and the composition we find in Parisinus graecus 74. First,
in the manuscript the ailing woman is so bent over that she has to rely on the pair
of low crutches, while elsewhere she is frequently shown more upright, in a pose
that resembles one of veneration: a deep forward bow, with one hand raised toward
53
The configuration of Christ’s hand—the first two fingers and the little finger raised, the thumb
and the fourth finger curved down—is the usual Byzantine artistic formula to indicate speech.
54
In the Paris Sacra Parallela, Christ is shown placing his hand on her head (Paris, Bibliothèque
nationale gr. 923, fol. 212r); see Weitzmann, Sacra Parallela, 177, fig. 462. We see this again in a
13th-cent. Armenian gospel book in the Freer Gallery in Washington, DC; here, however, the bent
woman is simply seated on the ground (Freer Gallery of Art 32.18, 447); see Sirarpie Der Nersessian,
Armenian Manuscripts in the Freer Gallery of Art (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1963)
fig. 146. In another Armenian gospel in the Freer, the woman appears to be reclining on a mattress
(Freer Gallery of Art 56.11, fol. 194r); see ibid., fig. 256. This manuscript is dated to 1263.
55
The paint has flaked, but the underdrawing suggests that all the figures wore hoods.
56
On the towers, see fols. 3v, where the tower signifies Jerusalem; 4v, where it signifies Egypt;
5r, where two towers signify Egypt and Nazareth respectively; 7v, where it represents a prison;
174r, where it represents the town of Sichar; etc. (in Omont, Évangiles, pls. 5, 7, 8, 10, 151, etc.).
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 273

Christ and the other resting on a proper cane.57 Second, whereas Parisinus graecus
74 unites in one composition the two elements of this miracle story—the healing
and the dispute with the Jews—elsewhere these two events may be separated. This
is the case in the Florence Gospels, as well as in the late twelfth-century mosaic in
Monreale, where the chief of the synagogue and his group of witnesses are relegated
to the adjoining wall, at right angles to the healing scene.58 In Parisinus graecus 74
the speaking gesture of Christ appears to address both the woman and the shocked
group of Jews, thereby giving the healing and the dispute equal weight.
The commentaries on this miracle allow us to read yet more into the image. It
is constructed somewhat differently from the first. The positive aspect is on the
left side (where there are golden haloes) and the negative aspect is on the right
side (where the haloes are absent). One should hesitate to interpret the building
behind Jesus’s disciples except to suggest that it bestows a measure of power and
protection on Jesus’s group and indicates that the action takes place outdoors. It
may allude to the synagogue mentioned in verse 11: ironically, the synagogue
would then be on Jesus’s side (which is not impossible hermeneutically, for the
Christians in Byzantium claimed to be the true synagogue).
Jesus is accompanied by his disciples: that there are three is a way of alluding
to the three leaders, Peter, James, and John, but also pars pro toto to the whole
group of disciples, even the church. They live in luminous unity. On the right side,
the leader of the synagogue is followed by two other officers and an anonymous
crowd. Both groups, by means of the arm of the chief disciple (probably Peter)
and the arm of the chief rabbi, draw the viewer’s attention toward the action. The
Christian “arm” probably underscores in one movement the healing of the bent
woman and the power of the healer. The Jewish “arm” takes the traditional position
57
The fresco in the Virgin chapel at Patmos (ca. 1200) is actually labeled ἡ προσκύνησις (the
veneration): see A. K. Orlandos, Ἡ ἀρχιτεκτονικὴ καὶ αἱ βυζαντιναὶ τοιχογραφίαι τῆς μονῆς
τοῦ θεολόγου Πάτμου (Athens: Akademia Athenon, 1970) 153, pl. 37. The woman’s deformity
is most evident in a 12th-cent. mosaic in Monreale, in Sicily; here the woman does not raise her
head at all but gazes sideways toward the ground. Her left hand rests on a short cane, and her right
is extended toward Christ (Ernst Kitzinger, I mosaici del periodo Normanno in Sicilia, fasc. 5. Il
duomo di Monreale. I mosaici delle navate [Palermo: Accademia nazionale di scienze, lettere e
arti di Palermo, 1996] figs. 206, 209). In the 9th-cent. Paris manuscript of the homilies of Gregory
of Nazianzus, the woman shows no sign of deformity—she is a woman kneeling and looking up to
Christ (Paris, Bibliothèque nationale gr. 510, fol. 310v): see Leslie Brubaker, Vision and Meaning in
Ninth-Century Byzantium: Image as Exegesis in the Homilies of Gregory of Nazianzus (Cambridge,
UK: Cambridge University Press, 1999) 270–72, fig. 31.
58
Kitzinger, Mosaici, figs. 206–10. Here the chief of the synagogue stands apart, responding
to the healing event but turning his head toward the group of eleven men who stand behind him.
In the miniature in the Florence Gospels, the episodes of the story (here expanded to three) are
separated by little architectural elements: first we see Christ speaking to the bent woman in the
presence of two witnesses; then we see the woman erect, acknowledging Christ in the presence of
three witnesses; and, finally, we see Christ disputing with the hooded chief of the synagogue, in the
presence of two bare-headed witnesses, presumably apostles (Velmans, Tétraévangile, fig. 232). The
miniature is placed directly above the first words of the miracle text (Luke 13:10). In some cases,
the dispute with the Jews is omitted entirely, and only the healing is shown.
274 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

of a speaker at the beginning of a speech: the chief of the synagogue would like to
react and contradict. Here again we see the continuity between the biblical period
and the time of biblical interpretation.
The face-to-face encounter between Jesus and the bent woman is interesting. The
movement of Jesus’s cloak expresses not only the Lord’s desire to act, but also the
authority and power of his divine nature, of his divine word. Here the moment is
chosen when the action begins. The woman has not yet been healed. Jesus’s divine
word is about to perform the miracle and Jesus will then lay his human hands on her.
The woman is not only depicted as the evangelist Luke describes her; she also
reflects the patristic and Byzantine interpretation of a woman enslaved by the
devil, bent toward the earth, unable to turn her head toward the heavenly realm.
But she intends to accept Jesus’s offer. She stretches her arms in his direction and
already tries to lift up her eyes from the material world of the passions toward
the spiritual and divine reality. Christ’s power and the bent woman’s weakness
are close to one another, but there is still some distance between them. The text
resolves this tension and conveys the possibility of the two coming together and
the ἀνόρθωσις, a “straightening up.”
Other miniatures in Parisinus graecus 74—miniatures other than the ones we
have chosen here—have been examined by scholars from a variety of perspectives:
theological, liturgical, and historical. Sirarpie Der Nersessian has found among
the miniatures of Parisinus graecus 74 a preoccupation with the second coming of
Christ.59 Shigebumi Tsuji has related the various manifestations of Christ depicted
in the headpieces to the language of the liturgy.60 Others have uncovered historical
elements in some miniatures of this manuscript.61

59
Sirarpie Der Nersessian, “Recherches sur les miniatures du Parisinus Graecus 74,” Jahrbuch
der Österreichischen Byzantinistik 21 (1972) 109–17.
60
Shigebumi Tsuji, “The Headpiece Miniatures and Genealogy Pictures in Paris. gr. 74,”
Dumbarton Oaks Papers 29 (1975) 165–203.
61
The miniatures placed at the end of the text of each gospel (fols. 61v, 101v, 213r) depict the
evangelist speaking with a monastic figure labeled the κὺρ ἡγουμένος, that is, the “lord abbot.” The
poems that come after each of these miniatures (fols. 62r, 102r, 213r–213v; the folio that contained
the miniature and poem at the end of the Gospel of Luke is lost) dwell on the responsibility of
the abbot to govern his flock wisely, stressing that his authority comes directly from God. For
transcriptions of the poems and a study of the connections between the Paris gospel and its later
incarnations, see Ioannis Spatharakis, The Portrait in Byzantine Illuminated Manuscripts (Leiden:
Brill, 1976) 61–67. See also Hutter, “Theodoros,” 199–203; and Dirk Krausmüller, “Abbots and
Monks at Studios: The Installation Scene of the Theodore Psalter as Evidence for Studite Power
Politics,” Revue des études byzantines 64–65 (2006–2007) 255–82; both highlight the importance
to the Studites in this period of the abbot’s independence from episcopal and royal authority. On
the striking Last Judgment miniatures in Parisinus graecus 74, which include the figure of a monk,
presumably the abbot, already present in paradise, see Nancy Patterson Ševčenko, “Some Images
of the Second Coming and the Fate of the Soul in Middle Byzantine Art,” in Apocalyptic Themes
in Early Christianity (ed. Robert Daly, SJ; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2009) 250­–72,
esp. 250–57, with earlier bibliography. The political overtones are more evident in the later copies
of Parisinus graecus 74, where the figure of the abbot is replaced by the figure of the tsar (in the
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 275

The two miniatures we chose for our study do not lend themselves easily to such
analysis: their very formulaic character would seem to render it unlikely that there
was any intent to convey a particular interpretation of the gospel text. Yet it can
be argued that even such ostensibly neutral miniatures as these may nonetheless
contain some element of interpretation.
The illustration of the parable of the fig tree on fol. 138v does not tackle the
issue of who is the owner and who is the gardener, but it does use the image of the
flourishing tree with its prominent dead branch to intimate possible alternatives
of future growth or of destruction, which is the subject of debate between the
two men. The outcome is not revealed in the miniature, which simply presents
us with the situation and the debate. Nor is the final outcome of the miracle story
evident in the miniature on the following page (fol. 139r): we do not get to see the
bent woman healed and standing upright. Instead, what we do see is the powerful
speaking gesture of Christ—who apparently heals by his word alone without the
imposition of his hands—the woman attempting to raise her head, and the presence
of witnesses pro and con whose dispute over the timing of the healing gives the
event a wider significance. The choice of details in these two miniatures, however
formulaic they are, offers the viewer a set of clues to the meaning of the events,
even if a specific interpretation is not in evidence.

 Conclusion
Biblical scholars looking at gospel miniatures are likely to inquire: How does
the illustration relate to the biblical text and give the text a particular meaning?
Historians of art are likely to dismiss miniatures such as the two we chose as
moments of pure narrative illustration that do not aim to convey any particular
interpretation of the gospel text they accompany. They would claim that only once
they have taken the whole manuscript into consideration—its genesis, date, purpose,
and artistic conventions—can they determine to what extent the conventions
are being manipulated in any one case to convey a particular interpretation. The
close analysis demanded by our joint project has revealed to us that even in the
most formulaic visual language a certain awareness of the issues can be shown to
exist, even if it does not follow any of the specific interpretations offered by the
patristic or Byzantine commentators. It is a lesson to textual scholars confronted
with miniatures not to overinterpret compositional elements that may be mere
visual formulae, and a lesson to art historians not to overlook a conscious, if barely
discernable, interpretive slant abiding in the core of even the most conventional
of Byzantine compositions.

Bulgarian copy) or by local rulers (in the Romanian copies). For astute remarks on the relation of
the Bulgarian gospels to the Paris gospels, see Elka Bakalova, “Society and Art in the 14th Century,”
Byzantino-bulgarica 8 (1986) 17–72, esp. 37–47.
276 HARVARD THEOLOGICAL REVIEW

Figure 1
Gospel Book, 11th century
Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS. gr. 74, fol. 138v.
Image used with permission of the Bibliothèque nationale de France.
 FRANÇOIS BOVON AND NANCY P. ŠEVČENKO 277

Figure 2
Gospel Book, 11th century
Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, MS. gr. 74, fol. 139r.
Image used with permission of the Bibliothèque nationale de France.