Dante’s Paradiso – Canto 25

Dante opens this Canto by expressing his fond hope to return to his native Florence and be recognized as a great poet. Soon, the light of St. James appears and joins St. Peter. Beatrice asks St. James to examine Dante on Hope. After successfully answering the Apostle’s questions a third brilliant light emerges to join Sts. Peter and James. It is the Apostle John. Though this newly arrived soul is stunningly bright, Dante stares at him unabashedly to see if (according to a Medieval belief) he is in Heaven with both his body and his soul. St. John tells him that his body is buried on Earth. Turning, then, to look at Beatrice, Dante discovers that he is blind!

            If it ever happens that this sacred poem – which both Heaven and Earth have had a hand in writing (and left me lean from years of labor) – should overcome the cruel brood that exiled me from the sheepfold where I was a lamb and a foe to those wolves who tear it apart now, I would return as a poet – with a new voice and a different fleece – and stand at the font of my baptism wearing the laurel crown, for at that place I entered the faith that makes souls welcome to God, the same faith for which St. Peter had just now turned himself into my crown.[1]Several things need to be pointed out as we begin to explore this canto. This is a canto on Hope, and Dante opens with a deeply personal statement of hope which, at 12 lines long, is probably the … Continue reading

            And then, out of the same glowing sphere that St. Peter had emerged from so brightly a new light moved toward us; whereupon my dear Beatrice, so beautiful in her joy, said to me: “Look there! See the Baron who draws pilgrims to his tomb in Galicia.”[2]The new light emerging from the same glowing sphere as St. Peter did is the Apostle St. James (though he is unnamed) whom Beatrice refers to as the Baron. Unnamed, he is, nevertheless, identified … Continue reading

            As when a dove alights near its mate, and in mutual affection they circle each other and coo, so I saw these two brilliant spirits greet each other singing praise for the heavenly banquet that nourishes them eternally. And when their greetings had been exchanged, they stopped quietly in front of me – so refulgent I could not look at them. Then my smiling Beatrice spoke to that second great light: “O illustrious soul, who wrote of the abundance of our heavenly realm, let hope resound throughout the kingdom of Heaven, for you were so many times the symbol of this virtue when Jesus took the three of you with him.”[3]Like affectionate doves, symbols of peace and fidelity, the two Apostles sing heavenly greetings to each other as Dante looks on, for the moment unable to bear the brilliance of their light. Beatrice … Continue reading

            “Lift up your head and take heart,” said that second light, “for all who come here from the mortal world must ripen in this light of ours.” With these words of strength I lifted up my eyes which had been lowered because of his powerful brilliance. “Since by His grace, and before your death, our Emperor has brought you here before His own Counts in His most secret hall, so that seeing the truth of this realm, you and others might be strengthened by that Hope which spurs men on earth to love the good; tell me, then, what is Hope? Tell me how much of it you possess, and where it comes from.” Thus spoke that second light.[4]St. James is encouraging in his first words to Dante, urging him to look into the light that makes him and St. Peter so resplendent. It is the light of God, of course, that shines eternally on all … Continue reading

            And Beatrice, who had guided me at every point along my high flight, anticipated my reply: “Among the Church Militant you will find no one with greater hope than this man, as you see in Him whose light illuminates all the citizens of this heavenly realm. Because of this, his pilgrimage from Egypt to see our Jerusalem has been willed before his earthly days are done. I will leave the other two questions to be answered by him so that those on earth may know how deeply you cherish this virtue. He will answer them easily and without boasting. Let him speak to you, and may the grace of God be with him.”[5]Beatrice, who was silent during Dante’s examination on Faith, takes a more active role in this exam, going as far as answering St. James’s second question, “How much [Hope] do you have?” In a … Continue reading

            Once again I was like the well-versed student, diligent and ready to answer his master: “Hope,” I stated, “is the sure expectation of the future happiness we will inherit, the reward of God’s grace and merit earned.[6]Here Dante is quoting almost directly from the Book of Sentences (III, xxvi, 1) by the famous Medieval theologian Peter Lombard, the twelfth-century bishop of Paris and professor at the Cathedral … Continue reading Like light from the stars, this light shines down on me from many wise minds;[7]These “stars” are sacred writings like the Psalms, as we shall see, and James’s own letter in the New Testament. Dante probably had in mind here a wonderful passage from the Book of Daniel … Continue reading but it was the psalmist David, God’s highest singer, who first instilled this virtue within my heart. ‘Let all have hope in You, Lord, who know Your holy name,’ he sings.[8]King David, who was also a poet and a musician, is traditionally considered to be the primary contributor to the Book of Psalms, though several were written by other authors. This particular verse is … Continue reading And if one has faith like mine, surely they know of that Name. Furthermore, by reading your Letter I have been filled with Hope, and I am happy to pour out what I have received to others.”[9]About this “pouring out” Dante refers to the Letter of St. James as a kind of “rain” that has poured down on him, and Dorothy Sayers writes in her commentary here:“Dante indicates a link … Continue reading

            As I spoke, brilliant flashes like lightning flamed out from that spirit,[10]This is St. James’s way of showing his approval for what Dante has said about Hope. It’s also a subtle and clever reference to a passage in the Gospel of St. Mark (3:14-17) where Jesus names the … Continue reading and I heard him say: “The love for this virtue always burns within me. It followed me even to my martyrdom and death. And since you love this virtue so much, fill me with even more joy by telling me what promise Hope holds out to you.”[11]St. James, who literally “burns” with love (think of the flashes of lightning above) for the virtue of hope, sees in Dante a kindred spirit and is so pleased with the Poet’s response that he … Continue reading

            I replied: “Both Testaments define the goal of Hope, which points me to this promise, namely, that as the prophet Isaiah foretold, those whom God has chosen as his friends will wear the double garment of body and soul here in this glorious homeland of ours. And then there is also your brother John, who makes this revelation even clearer when he writes about Heaven’s white-robed army.” When I had finished speaking, I again heard the Psalm ring out in the heavens: “Let them trust in thee who now thy name, O Lord!” And all the dancing spirits sang out in response.[12]Dante begins by answering that the entire Bible itself can be understood as a kind of “handbook” of hope, showing the way for all believers to their “homeland,” namely Heaven. For Dante as an … Continue reading

            Then, among those dancing lights, one shone so brightly that if the Crab constellation had only that star, winter would have a month-long day.[13]Dante’s image here is rather fantastical, but he’s saying that if the constellation of Cancer – the Crab – which appears in the dead of winter (December 21 – January 21) had a star in … Continue reading As a young maiden will dance for joy in honor of the bride without being self-conscious, so I saw a brilliant new splendor rush toward the other two glories that were dancing to match their great love. As it joined them in their dance and song, my Beatrice, like a bride, gazed at them in calm and quiet. And without ever taking her eyes from them she said to me: “This new one here is he who laid his head upon the breast of our own Pelican. He is the one to whom Jesus, on the Cross, gave the care of his own mother.”[14]Without naming this new bright light, Beatrice wants Dante to know, by two subtle illustrations, that this is St. John the Apostle. No sooner does his light appear than he joins his brother and St. … Continue reading

            As at an eclipse of the sun, one strains and squints one’s eyes to see just a bit of it, so did I stare at that blazing light until I heard it say: “Why blind yourself looking for what is not here? My body is but earth now, and it lies with all the others awaiting the final call of God. Two Lights, and only two, rose directly to this our realm in body and soul. Explain this when you return to your world.”[15]According to Grandgent in his commentary, “Dante had the opportunity of seeing seven eclipses of the sun, two of them total in Italy.” Squinting to protect his eyes from the sun-like light that … Continue reading

            As he spoke, the dancing and music of that blessèd trio stopped – like rowers who drop their oars together at a whistle or to prevent fatigue. But how can I explain what I felt when I turned to look at Beatrice – she so close to me, we in Paradise – and I was blind![16]As St. John was explaining to Dante that his body was still in the earth, the music and dancing came to an even stop. The rowing image here comes from Statius’ Thebaid, VI, 799–801: “So, … Continue reading

Notes & Commentary

Notes & Commentary
1 Several things need to be pointed out as we begin to explore this canto. This is a canto on Hope, and Dante opens with a deeply personal statement of hope which, at 12 lines long, is probably the longest canto opening in what he calls his “sacred Poem,” sacred because Heaven and Earth have had a hand in its making. Think back on the long journey we have traveled since the opening lines of the Inferno; out of 100 cantos, this is the 92nd. Finally, as it were, Dante has a chance to pull together a number of issues: (1) his fondest hopes that when the Poem is finished it will bring him back to Florence (the sheepfold), (2) where he will be recognized as a famous and mature poet (his new voice and new fleece), (3) proving his innocence (like a lamb) and ending his exile, (4) confirming him as a promoter of peace (as against the wolves who exiled him), and (5) lead to his laureation at the font where he was baptized into the faith – the faith that has just been validated by St. Peter in the previous canto, and for which he has already been crowned. For that matter, the entire Poem is one continuous Act of Faith. On the one hand, this is a passage of celebratory hope, and on the other there is an undercurrent of sadness in it because, as we know, it would be several hundred years more before Florence recognized one of its greatest sons.


Interestingly enough, in June of 2008 the City Council of Florence passed a motion for the public rehabilitation of Dante, symbolically revoking the medieval sentence of exile and death – a civic gesture of restitution rather than a formal legal retrial. The motion, passed by 19 votes to 5, called for a “public rehabilitation” and symbolic annulment of the sentence under which Dante had been exiled. In 2021, during the seventh centenary of Dante’s death, Florentine jurists staged a symbolic “re-trial” to reassess the 1302 conviction. The proceeding, though lacking legal force, underscored the now widespread view that Dante’s exile was the product of partisan politics rather than impartial justice. But, as many claim, Dante’s status as the greatest western poet puts him beyond the need to legally revoke any sentences made against him.

2 The new light emerging from the same glowing sphere as St. Peter did is the Apostle St. James (though he is unnamed) whom Beatrice refers to as the Baron. Unnamed, he is, nevertheless, identified with his tomb in the Cathedral at Santiago de Compostella in the province of Galicia in northwestern Spain.
This is St. James the Great (there were two Apostles with this name). He was the son of Zebedee, a fisherman, and the brother of the Apostle and Evangelist John. He, his brother John, and Peter where among Jesus’s first and closest disciples. (By the way, Dante named his three sons Peter, James, and John.) According to tradition, St. James preached in Spain and then returned to Jerusalem where he was martyred by Herod Agrippa I in the year 44. According to Medieval legends, after his death, his body was miraculously translated back to Spain where his tomb was discovered in the year 813 by a hermit near Santiago da Compostella and eventually validated by the local bishop as the body of the Apostle.
The tomb of St. James at Santiago de Compostella is one of the most important pilgrimage sites in the Christian world following Jerusalem and Rome. It has been the terminus of one of the oldest pilgrimages in Europe, dating back to the early ninth century. The route to this site, often called the Camino de Santiago runs across the northern part of Spain from east to west. Early on, the beginning of the route in the northeast of Spain was joined by routes from England down through France, and routes from northern, central, and eastern Europe as well. Over the centuries, countless pilgrims have walked these routes and continue to do so to this day.
In his commentary here, Charles Singleton adds this note:
“The relics of the saint were said to have been discovered in 835 by Theodomir, bishop of Iria, who was guided to the spot by a star, whence the name (Campus Stellae). Pilgrimages to the tomb of St. James at Santiago de Compostela were so frequent in the Middle Ages as to be second only to those to Rome itself, and in fact, as Dante explains in the Vita Nuova (XL, 6-7), those who made the pilgrimage to St. James’ tomb are properly and specifically known as peregrini, as distinguished from palmieri [pilgrims to Jerusalem] and romei [pilgrims to Rome]: ‘Pilgrims may be understood in two ways, one wide and another narrow. In the wide sense, in so far as whoever is outside his fatherland is a pilgrim; in the narrow sense, none is called a pilgrim save him who is journeying towards the sanctuary of St. James, or is returning: and therefore it should be known that there are three ways of properly naming folk who journey for the worship of the Most High. They are called palmers, insofar as they journey over the sea, there, whence many times they bring back palm branches; they are called pilgrims in so far as they journey to the sanctuary of Galicia, because the tomb of St. James was farther from his own country than that of any other apostle; they are called romers, in so far as they journey to Rome…’”
Furthermore, in his commentary on this part of Canto 25, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (creator of the first American translation of the Comedy, published in 1867) writes:
“The legend says that the body of St. James was put on board a ship and abandoned to the sea; but the ship, being guided by an angel, landed safely in Galicia. There the body was buried; but in the course of time the place of its burial was forgotten, and not discovered again till the year 800, when it was miraculously revealed to a friar.
“Mrs. Jameson, Sacred and Legendary Art, I, 211, says: ‘Then they caused the body of the saint to be transported to Compostella; and in consequence of the surprising miracles which graced his shrine, he was honored not merely in Galicia, but throughout all Spain. He became the patron saint of the Spaniards, and Compostella, as a place of pilgrimage, was renowned throughout Europe. From all countries bands of pilgrims resorted there, so that sometimes there were no less than a hundred thousand in one year. The military order of Saint Jago, enrolled by Don Alphonso for their protection, became one of the greatest and richest in Spain.
‘Now, if I should proceed to recount all the wonderful deeds enacted by Santiago in behalf of his chosen people, they would fill a volume. The Spanish historians number thirty-eight visible apparitions, in which this glorious saint descended from heaven in person, and took the command of their armies against the Moors.’”
3 Like affectionate doves, symbols of peace and fidelity, the two Apostles sing heavenly greetings to each other as Dante looks on, for the moment unable to bear the brilliance of their light. Beatrice again sets the stage for what follows by identifying St. James with his New Testament Letter and as one of Jesus’ three closest Apostles. However, Dante seems either to have conflated the two Apostles James or mistaken one for the other as the author of the Letter of James in the New Testament. The Letter was actually written by St. James the Less (also known as the brother of the Lord and the first leader of the Church in Jerusalem). It is St. James the Great whose relics and shrine are in Spain. Grandgent notes in his commentary that in Dante’s time both Apostles were regarded as the same person.
With this in mind, relative to his writing of the “abundance of our heavenly realm,” commentators often point to three verses in the Letter of James. The first is from 1:5: “If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives to all generously and ungrudgingly, and he will be given it.” The second is 1:17: “All good giving and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no alteration or shadow caused by change.” And the third passage is 2:5: “Did not God choose those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom that he promised to those who love him?”
While there are no New Testament writings that expressly link our St. James with the virtue of Hope, one can infer it from the passages above. The Medieval theological tradition also associated him with this virtue. But perhaps the closest connection has to do with the popularity of his shrine and the deep nature of pilgrimage, which is always an act of hope.
Beatrice also refers to the three times when Jesus singled out Peter, James, and John to accompany him. The first is in St. Mark’s Gospel (5:37-42) when Jesus raises from the dead the daughter of Jairus, the synagogue official. The second is at the Transfiguration in Mark 9:2-8. And the third is at Mark 14:32-24 when Jesus took them with him to pray just before his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane.
4 St. James is encouraging in his first words to Dante, urging him to look into the light that makes him and St. Peter so resplendent. It is the light of God, of course, that shines eternally on all the souls in Heaven. Dante probably has Psalm 121:1 in mind here: “I raise my eyes toward the mountains. From whence shall come my help.” At the same time, for those who, like the Poet, are newcomers, this is a ripening light that brings the souls who arrive in Heaven to their fullest and most perfect maturity.
Here, then, begins the examination in the virtue of Hope. St. James first notes that it is by God’s grace that Dante is privileged to visit Heaven before his death and encounter some of its significant citizens. And by means of this experience he has learned the truth of what Heaven promises to everyone, filling them with the hope that will, in turn, lead them here by good works. This, of course, is the purpose of the whole Comedy. And so St. James asks Dante three questions about hope: what is it, how much do you have, and where does it come from? Note the difference between this examination where all the questions are given at once, and the previous one on faith where each question and answer led to the next, and so on.
5 Beatrice, who was silent during Dante’s examination on Faith, takes a more active role in this exam, going as far as answering St. James’s second question, “How much [Hope] do you have?” In a sense, her intervention here is like that of a tutor who has schooled Dante in this subject and now recommends him highly to the Master who will examine him on it. Her praise of Dante is almost overstated: No one among the Church Militant has as much faith as this man! But she does this so that Dante won’t appear to be boastful.
The “Church Militant” is an expression from Medieval theology, most likely based on St. Paul, referring to baptized Christians who are still alive and strive against any evil force that would lead them astray from the goal of Heaven. In his Letter to the Ephesians (6:11) he writes: “Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm against the tactics of the devil.” It is actually the first term in a threesome: the Church Militant, the Church Suffering (those in Purgatory), and the Church Triumphant (those in Paradise).
Continuing, Beatrice notes that because of his great hope, Dante’s journey from “Egypt to see our Jerusalem” has, as St. James knows, been willed by God. This is reference to several things. It brings to mind the Exodus journey of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt to the freedom of the Promised Land (of which Jerusalem became the capital). It refers to the major terminus of Christian pilgrims – the Holy Land and all the biblical sites therein. Pilgrims often began in Egypt and traveled north, symbolizing the Exodus journey. And thirdly it refers to Dante’s own pilgrimage through the Comedy, beginning in Hell (slavery in Egypt), continuing in Purgatory (the years spent traveling through the desert), and concluding with Paradise (the Promised Land and, centuries later, the great Temple in Jerusalem, the City of God (the Empyrean).
6 Here Dante is quoting almost directly from the Book of Sentences (III, xxvi, 1) by the famous Medieval theologian Peter Lombard, the twelfth-century bishop of Paris and professor at the Cathedral School of Notre Dame. He was introduced by St. Thomas Aquinas in the first Crown of Lights back in Canto 10.
7 These “stars” are sacred writings like the Psalms, as we shall see, and James’s own letter in the New Testament. Dante probably had in mind here a wonderful passage from the Book of Daniel (12:3): “They that are learned shall shine like the splendor of the firmament: and those who lead the many to justice shall be like the stars forever.”
8 King David, who was also a poet and a musician, is traditionally considered to be the primary contributor to the Book of Psalms, though several were written by other authors. This particular verse is from Psalm 9:10: “Those who know your name trust in you; you never forsake those who seek you, Lord.”
9 About this “pouring out” Dante refers to the Letter of St. James as a kind of “rain” that has poured down on him, and Dorothy Sayers writes in her commentary here:
“Dante indicates a link here between the Psalms and the Epistle of St James, namely the hope, or trust, which both convey. The dominant mood of the Psalms is, indeed, one of hope, hope of a future divine manifestation, hope of life after death, hope despite temporal injustice. Yet the Psalmist can do no more than glimpse afar off the promise that will be fulfilled. Combined, however, with the words of St James, the dew he instilled in Dante becomes rain which brims and overflows.”
10 This is St. James’s way of showing his approval for what Dante has said about Hope. It’s also a subtle and clever reference to a passage in the Gospel of St. Mark (3:14-17) where Jesus names the twelve Apostles:
“He appointed twelve whom he also named apostles that they might be with him and he might send them forth to preach and to have authority to drive out demons: he appointed the twelve: Simon, whom he named Peter; James, son of Zebedee, and John the brother of James, whom he named Boanerges, that is, sons of thunder.”
About the “sons of thunder,” in the Gospel of St. Luke (9:52-54) we read that Jesus and his disciples
“entered a Samaritan village to prepare for his reception there, but they would not welcome him because the destination of his journey was Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven to consume them?”
Obviously, Jesus said no.
11 St. James, who literally “burns” with love (think of the flashes of lightning above) for the virtue of hope, sees in Dante a kindred spirit and is so pleased with the Poet’s response that he becomes autobiographical for a moment and then moves back into the examination. By the way, St. James, the brother of St. John, is the only Apostle whose death is recorded in the New Testament in Acts 12:1-2: “About that time King Herod laid hands upon some members of the church to harm them. He had James, the brother of John, killed by the sword.”
12 Dante begins by answering that the entire Bible itself can be understood as a kind of “handbook” of hope, showing the way for all believers to their “homeland,” namely Heaven. For Dante as an exile, this is particularly significant, as he would have thought for all his readers: we are all exiles from Heaven. For him and for his Readers, the Comedy was a kind of road map back home.
Dante also offers an interpretation of a verse in the prophecy of Isaiah (61:7), which reads: “They will possess twofold in their own land; everlasting joy shall be theirs.” Translating his Italian, he writes: “Isaiah says that each one will be dressed in his own land with a double garment: and his land is this sweet life.” This passage refers to the restoration of Israel/Zion after being punished for its infidelities to God. The implication is that everyone will receive a double portion for what they lost. Dante’s response to St. James implies that Heaven is our homeland, and that to be dressed in a double garment means we will be clothed there with both soul and body. This is his/our great hope. Furthermore, Isaiah 61:10 reads: “I will rejoice heartily in the Lord, my being exults in my God; for he has clothed me with garments of salvation, and wrapped me in a robe of justice.”
Dante ends the examination by quoting St. James’s brother, St. John, who writes in the Book of Revelation (7:9):
“After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue. They stood before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands.”
This is St. John’s vision of Heaven, filled with a countless number of souls in white robes standing before the throne of God, holding palm branches (symbols of victory) in their hands. At this, Psalm 9:10 again rings out through the heavens in celebration of Dante’s success: “Those who know your name trust in you; you never forsake those who seek you, Lord.”
With the imagery of the double clothing in Heaven – body and soul – one wonders whether Dante had considered in this regard perhaps one of the most authoritative passages on the subject in the New Testament: St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians: 15:51-57. There he writes:
“Behold, I tell you a mystery. We shall not all fall asleep, but we will all be changed, in an instant, in the blink of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For that which is corruptible must clothe itself with incorruptibility, and that which is mortal must clothe itself with immortality. And when this which is corruptible clothes itself with incorruptibility and this which is mortal clothes itself with immortality, then the word that is written shall come about: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ … But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”
13 Dante’s image here is rather fantastical, but he’s saying that if the constellation of Cancer – the Crab – which appears in the dead of winter (December 21 – January 21) had a star in it as bright as the one that has just appeared, there would be a month of day-long sunshine. It would appear, then, that this third light is brighter than St. Peter’s and brighter than St. James’s.
14 Without naming this new bright light, Beatrice wants Dante to know, by two subtle illustrations, that this is St. John the Apostle. No sooner does his light appear than he joins his brother and St. Peter in joyful dancing that matches their love. Beatrice’s first illustration of St. John refers to the scene of the Last Supper where he leans against Jesus chest: John 13:23: “And leaning against the bosom of Jesus was one of his disciples, the one whom Jesus loved.” The Pelican is a wonderful symbolic reference to Jesus. It enters Christian imagery by way of a 3rd or 4th century anonymous Greek Christian text called the Physiologus. This was an early bestiary where various creatures were allegorized and given moral and spiritual attributes. Here, though biologically incorrect, the pelican was claimed to have the ability to feed its starving or dying young by piercing itself and nourishing them with its blood. This became a widely-used Christological symbol of the Eucharist as the body and blood of Jesus poured out at the crucifixion as an act of love for our salvation. Since the Middle Ages, when bestiaries became highly popular, the symbol frequently appears in Christian art and iconography. The second illustration takes us to the site of Jesus’s crucifixion where He gives His mother into St. John’s keeping. This is found in John 19:26f: “When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold, your son!’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother!’ And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.”
15 According to Grandgent in his commentary, “Dante had the opportunity of seeing seven eclipses of the sun, two of them total in Italy.” Squinting to protect his eyes from the sun-like light that has just joined Sts. Peter and James, Dante hears that light identify itself to him – again with a subtle explanation. And at this point, there is no way to save this light’s identification until later. His explanation names him. This is St. John the Evangelist, the brother of St. James. Now, there was a legend that when St. John died he was taken into Heaven body and soul, and here Dante risks blindness trying to see whether or not St. John had his body, and thus whether or not the legend was true. St. John directs him to set the world straight by explaining that only two have enjoyed this privilege: Jesus and his mother, Mary. Certainly, Dante would already have believed this. At the same time, while the resurrection and ascension of Jesus are well-documented in the New Testament, there is no biblical evidence to say the same about Mary, though the tradition of her bodily assumption into Heaven dates back to the early centuries of the Christian era. Given this long tradition in both Western and Eastern Churches, the Dogma of the Assumption was formally proclaimed in 1950 by Pope Pius XII.
Another interesting fact arises from this latter part of the canto: In 1310, the famous Medieval artist Giotto was commissioned to do a fresco cycle on St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist for the Peruzzi Chapel in the famous church of Santa Croce in Florence. (Dante most likely studied at the Franciscan monastery school attached to this church.) One of the frescoes here depicts the Assumption of St. John into Heaven. Was the artist aware that, though there was a legend, Christian tradition singled out only Jesus and Mary for this privilege? Though Dante and Giotto most likely knew each other, it’s almost certain that he never saw the artist’s work because he had already been exiled from Florence by the time it was painted. If the Reader remembers, Dante actually mentions him among other famous artists of the time in Canto 11 of the Purgatorio. And it’s perhaps only a coincidence that the Poet corrects the artist’s work, being commissioned here by the Saint himself to do so.
Adding to the confusion is the rather usual ending of St. John’s Gospel (21:18-24) which Dante most likely also had in mind as he wrote this canto. The passage begins with Jesus talking with St. Peter about the way Peter will die:
“‘Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.’ He said this signifying by what kind of death [crucifixion] he would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ Peter turned and saw the disciple following whom Jesus loved, the one who had also reclined upon his chest during the supper and had said, ‘Master, who is the one who will betray you?’ When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, ‘Lord, what about him?’ Jesus said to him, ‘What if I want him to remain until I come? What concern is it of yours? You follow me.’ So the word spread among the brothers that that disciple would not die. But Jesus had not told him that he would not die, just ‘What if I want him to remain until I come? What concern is it of yours?’ It is this disciple [John] who testifies to these things and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true.”
16 As St. John was explaining to Dante that his body was still in the earth, the music and dancing came to an even stop. The rowing image here comes from Statius’ Thebaid, VI, 799–801: “So, when the vast sea has wearied the wandering sailors, and, at a signal given from the stern, they briefly rest their arms…”
Then, turning from the brilliant light of St. John to Beatrice – right next to him there in Paradise – not only does Dante realize that he’s totally blind, but he’s at a loss how to explain what has happened. Here the image of staring at the eclipse comes full circle. It was known long before Dante’s time that staring at the sun could irreparably damage one’s eyesight. The irony here is that he risked his eyesight and lost it by staring at the brilliance of St. John to prove that he didn’t have his body in Heaven, which he didn’t.