One of the Most Beautiful Depictions of Human Love in the History of Art

Rembrandt’s “The Jewish Bride” (1665–69)

Summer is a time of so many weddings, and now that many of my former students as well as the children of quondam colleagues are all at the “peak age” for getting married, it seems like every week’s mail brings an invitation to a wedding feast. Sadly, we often can’t go in person — I already travel too much as it is on my lecture circuit — but we remember these couples in our prayers and send them gifts and greetings.

In this peak wedding season, I wanted to reflect with readers on a painting that I find simply remarkable in its tenderness, depth of insight, consolation, encouragement, and spiritual sensitivity.

Many are the great painters, but Rembrandt—whose full name is Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (1606–1669)—is among the very few who have become household names. This painting, dubbed “The Jewish Bride” in the 19^th century and one of Rembrandt’s last major works (it was finished sometime between 1665 and 1669), shows us why he is so admired and popular.¹

Another famous painter, Vincent Van Gogh, sat before “The Jewish Bride” for several hours. When it was time to go, he said: “I would give ten years of my life if I could sit here for a fortnight with only a crust of dry bread to sustain me.” (By the way, if you haven’t ever watched the movie Loving Vincent, you simply must. I’ve seen it twice in the past year and found it just remarkable in every way.)

Closer examination has revealed that “The Jewish Bride” is a painting of the biblical characters Isaac and Rebecca (Genesis 26). In a preparatory sketch, Abimelek, king of the Philistines, stands at a window, looking with surprise at the intimacy of Isaac and Rebecca, who were pretending to be brother and sister. Some art historians think it may be a portrait of a real particular couple, posing as Isaac and Rebecca.

The story in Genesis 26 ends with Abimelek saying: “Anyone who harms this man or his wife shall surely be put to death.” As with every story in Genesis, this one too carries the theological weight of being a demonstration of Divine Providence; God is watching over this couple, who have been chosen to be members of the genealogy of the Messiah.

The husband and wife are so deeply united that they don’t need to gaze into each other’s eyes. They are looking elsewhere, possessed of their own thoughts, but there is no doubt in the viewer’s mind that they are united. Their gaze is not the over-eager mutual preoccupation of puppy-dog love, but the trusting interior gaze of a man and woman who have committed their lives, their bodies, their futures, their progeny, to one another, “for keeps,” for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do them part.

The man’s sleeve (what a magnificent sleeve of shimmering gold!) leads to the hands joined together, his right hand gently on her bosom, her left hand softly covering his: