The Twists and Turns of Israel

Psalms 77 and 78

Works of art by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio and Vincent van Gogh

‘He made their days vanish like a breath’

Two months before his death in 1890, Vincent van Gogh returned to a sketch from eight years earlier as the inspiration for this painting. The subject was a pensioner and war veteran, and he is depicted here seated in a bare and desolate room. With his head bowed and hands covering his face, the old man seems to shield himself from the outside world—or perhaps from the viewer witnessing his anguish.

His posture, reminiscent of an upright foetal position, evokes unfathomable despair. The stark, empty room amplifies the sense of desolation, with no adornments—no pictures, sofas, furnishings—to distract from the haunting solitude of the figure.

This painting of the pensioner has often been read as a poignant reflection of Van Gogh’s health struggles at this stage of his life. Perhaps we can see expressed in this picture a profound sense of loneliness that was reflected in the convalescent Van Gogh’s situation. The title, At Eternity’s Gate (which seems originally to have been inscribed by the artist on a lithograph he made from the same early drawing), acquires an additional resonance, given that the artist himself would not live for much longer. Two months after completing the painting, he tragically took his own life, stepping into the eternity evoked by the isolated figure he painted.

A comparable reflection of despair emerges in Psalm 77, where the unnamed psalmist endures a night of anguish, tormented by crippling anxiety. Perhaps like the figure in Van Gogh’s painting, he suffers alone, refusing comfort. For the psalmist, the most heartrending aspect of his anguish is a sense of divine abandonment. Feeling forsaken by his only refuge and hope, he laments that God has forgotten to be gracious and has withdrawn his compassion (v.9).

Yet, in the depths of despair, the psalmist clings to a thread of hope: the memory of God’s mighty deeds and past acts of deliverance for his forefathers. And we might recall that in Van Gogh’s first encounter with the old man, when he drew him eight years earlier, the artist had likewise found grounds for hopefulness, wanting ‘to express the special mood of Christmas and New Year’ in his study of him, and finding in the process ‘a feeling of belief in something on high even if I don't know exactly who or what will be there’ (Letter 294).

References

Chilvers, Ian. (ed.). 2004. The Oxford Dictionary of Art, 3rd edn (Oxford: Oxford University Press), pp. 297–299.

Hulsker, Jan. 1980. The Complete Van Gogh (Oxford: Phaidon)

Van Gogh, Vincent. 1882. ‘Letter to Theo van Gogh (#294), The Hague, approx. 13–18 December 1882’, https://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/highlights/letters/294 [accessed 22 May 2025]

Van Gogh Gallery, n.d. ‘At Eternity’s Gate’, available at https://www.vincentvangogh.org/at-eternitys-gate.jsp [accessed 2 September 2024]

The Food of Angels

Commentary by David Emanuel

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Giovanni Battista Tiepolo’s The Gathering of the Manna ostensibly depicts events first recorded in Exodus 16:15, in which the Israelites collected the miraculous bread provided by God, and questioned its nature.

Here, Moses appears raising his hands toward heaven, with his staff held in his right hand. At the top of the composition, the heavenly source of the manna is revealed, distributed from heaven by the hands of angels. The artwork’s vast size (10 metres high) as well as its placement over an altar, draws viewers up and into the scene, making them almost participants in it. Like the Israelites gathering manna, worshippers in the church stand under the upraised arms of Moses as they receive their own miraculous bread in the eucharist.

This detail of the angelic distribution suggests that the inspiration for Tiepolo’s work was not Exodus alone, but also Psalm 78. The psalm draws on diverse biblical narratives including the splitting of the sea and the plagues wrought against Egypt, all of which facilitated Israel’s emancipation. Notably, the psalm includes non-biblical traditions such as the Ephraimites’ retreat on a day of battle (v.9). The connection between Tiepolo’s painting and Psalm 78 lies in a specific detail concerning the portrayal of the manna’s divine source.

Exodus describes manna in Exodus 16:4 as bread that comes from heaven, a sentiment echoed in other biblical texts (e.g. Nehemiah 9:15; Psalm 105:40). Psalm 78, however, presents a unique portrayal of the manna in verse 25, referring to it as the ‘bread of angels’, which suggests a divine food that angels consume in heaven. This angelic association is vividly captured in the upper portion of Tiepolo’s work, in its depiction of angels scattering the manna. By incorporating this detail, Tiepolo aligns his portrayal of events with Psalm 78’s poetic tradition describing men partaking of the food of angels, and implies that those before the altar are also partakers of this heavenly feast.

References

Dotti, Davide. 2023. Tiepolo a Verolanuova. Due capolavori restaurati (Milan: Silvana Editoriale)

Gruber, Mayer I. 2007. Rashi’s Commentary on the Psalms (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society), p. 518

From Shepherd to King

Commentary by David Emanuel

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Shown here is the second of Caravaggio’s two paintings depicting David holding up the severed head of Goliath, inspired by 1 Samuel 17:54. The artist portrays David in simple shepherd’s attire, presenting the gruesome trophy to an unseen recipient.

Caravaggio’s use of chiaroscuro—sharp contrasts of light and dark—eliminates spatial depth and focuses attention on David and on Goliath’s head alone, the latter being dramatically foregrounded. True to his style, Caravaggio spares few details, depicting Goliath’s blood, along with what appear to be dangling veins or sinews, spilling from his severed neck, and even the bruise from the stone on the giant’s forehead.

The second longest composition in the Psalter, Psalm 78, features David prominently in its concluding verses. While the psalm initially recounts Israel’s repeated rebellions against God—from their deliverance from Egypt to their entry into Canaan—the main purpose of the psalm lies in its final seven verses. Here, the psalmist outlines the consequences of Israel’s rebellion, more specifically, the rebellion of the Northern tribes. For his chosen king, God rejects these Northern tribes and selects a leader, David, from the southern tribe of Judah.

Caravaggio’s depiction of David aligns thematically with Psalm 78’s conclusion. Goliath’s defeat marks David’s transition from shepherd to king. Both the psalm and the painting reflect David’s humble beginnings as a shepherd. Psalm 78:70–71 recalls David’s care for the ewes with suckling lambs, while Caravaggio portrays David in simple, loose-fitting shepherd’s garments.

Similarly, both the psalm and the painting anticipate David’s future as king. For Caravaggio, the sword in David’s right hand foreshadows his future as a violent but successful military leader, and ultimately as ruler over Israel. The psalmist, however, opts for a more placid depiction of David’s rule, emphasizing that he ruled over God’s people with ‘an upright heart’ (v.72).

From Desperation to Triumph through Memory

Comparative commentary by David Emanuel

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Together, the three paintings in this exhibition help us narrate Israel’s journey of redemption, highlighting the most significant act of God on their behalf—an act that serves as the cornerstone of their collective memory. These artworks depict pivotal moments of God’s work in bringing His people out of slavery in a foreign land and leading them to inherit and conquer a land of their own. Through such visual representations, the story of divine deliverance and covenant faithfulness is vividly brought to life, underscoring the foundation of Israel’s identity and relationship with God.

The figure we see in Vincent van Gogh’s At Eternity’s Gate can assist a deeper appreciation of Israel’s early existence as a nation characterized by destitution and profound solitude. For centuries, they endured the brutal realities of slavery in Egypt. Their anguished cries went unheard, perhaps—we may imagine—like those of the solitary figure in the painting. With no allies, no deliverer, and no refuge, they found themselves in the depths of despair. This represents a stark and sobering beginning—a people without hope, without a God, without allies, and without a land of their own. To overcome their dire circumstances, the Hebrews needed more than their own strength or efforts; they required intervention beyond human capacity, a divine hand to reshape their destiny and breathe life into their miserable existence.

Giovanni Battista Tiepolo’s The Gathering of the Manna masterfully portrays the profound intersection between human destitution and divine mercy, in which God’s transforming provision meets the struggles of his people. The details of the composition transcend the simplicity of its title, capturing multiple moments from Israel’s wilderness sojourn. At the centre stands Moses, elevated between heaven and earth, embodying his role as mediator between the divine and the human. The horns of light radiating from his head allude to his descent from Mount Sinai, symbolizing his encounter with God and the establishment of Israel’s covenant relationship with the Divine (Exodus 34:29). Tiepolo weaves subtle yet powerful allusions to God’s redemptive activity. The composition hints at the selection of Israel as His chosen people and the covenant that begins their transformation from a state of destitution to one of flourishing.

After their encounter with God, and acceptance of his covenant stipulations, the Israelites were able to enter the promised land. Although the land was a divine gift, the Israelites were compelled to seize it through brutal warfare. Kings were dismembered (Judges 1:6), and cities, along with their inhabitants, were annihilated. Gruesome as these acts were, they are understood in the biblical accounts as forming part of the divine plan for conquering the land. David’s decapitation of Goliath is a notable and brutal episode within this larger narrative, which can be read as symbolizing God’s providential role in the Israelite invasion and final settlement of Canaan. The future king’s victory over the Philistine giant reflects the conquest’s later stages, during which the last of the nations who occupied Canaan, the Philistines, were subdued. These events collectively can be read as marking the fulfilment of God’s promise, as the Israelites transition from wanderers to a settled nation.

Together, the traditions recalling magnificent acts of God—from hearing the Hebrews’ cry in captivity, providing for their needs, and bringing them into a spacious land of their own—form the fundamental salvation narrative that was designed to serve not just the exodus generation, but all subsequent generations.

In Psalm 77, an individual psalmist feeling isolated and in distress meditates on God’s magnificent deeds of old, saying, ‘I considered the days of old … I will remember my song in the night’ (vv.5–6). This deliberate act of remembrance revives the psalmist’s spirit as he contemplates the majestic deeds of the Lord during the exodus.

The author of Psalm 78 urges collective reflection on God’s redemptive work in Israel’s history to help future generations avoid the recurring cycle of rebellion and punishment. The psalmist identifies the root cause of this persistent disobedience: failure to remember God’s gracious and merciful acts. This theme of forgetfulness echoes throughout the psalm. Israel repeatedly forgets its God: ‘They forgot his works and the wonders that he showed them’ (v.11); and ‘[a]gain and again they tempted God … [t]hey did not remember his power’ (vv.41–42).

For the psalmist, remembrance is key to breaking this destructive cycle. Reflecting on God’s mighty deeds, especially during the exodus events, calls the people to cultivate faithfulness and free themselves from the pattern of rebellion and punishment.

Next exhibition: Psalms 85