Did Paul Fall Off A Horse?

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As Paul was journeying to Damascus to persecute the Christians there, “suddenly a light from heaven flashed about him. And he fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’” (Acts 9:3–4).

Question: At this critical moment, when Paul was converted to Christianity, did he fall off a horse?

Answer: It depends. If you are a Catholic, you think he fell off a horse. If you are a Protestant, you believe he was on foot and did not fall from a horse.

As a professor of English literature for 37 years, I learned this fact from my students. A specialist in Victorian literature, I had the opportunity, perhaps once a year, to teach Gerard Manley Hopkins’s great poem “The Wreck of the Deutschland.” At the close of the first part, the poet begs God to bring all men finally to adore Him, either quickly, as in Paul’s case, or slowly, as in the case of Augustine:

Whether at once, as once at a crash Paul,
Or as Austin, a lingering-out sweet skill…^a

I could be a dramatic lecturer, and I would describe for my class St. Augustine’s mother praying for 30 years for her son’s conversion, whereas Paul, when riding to Damascus, was knocked off his horse by a blinding light and a great noise, and was immediately converted.

For 19 years I taught at a great Catholic university, and no one ever questioned my version of these events.

I then moved to a state university, where most of the students were not Catholic, and the very first time I launched into my “Deutschland” bit, a young woman raised her hand and said that St. Paul was not riding a horse. I was astounded. As soon as I could break away, I opened the Acts of the Apostles. Sure enough—there is no horse.

At the next class, I polled the students about whether Paul fell off a horse. Without exception the Catholics thought he had, the Protestants thought he had not.

I also taught courses in the New Testament, and I pursued this survey, off and on, in various classes for about ten years. The results were astonishingly consistent—Catholics think Paul fell off a horse, Protestants say he was afoot.

I had at home a children’s coloring book prepared by the Archdiocese of St. Louis for use in parish religion classes. There was Paul, falling off his horse. I went to the Concordia Lutheran bookshop and picked out a similar coloring book. Sure enough, Paul was trudging along on foot. What is the 044reason for this remarkable consistency?

I expect it flows from the fact that Catholics are brought up in the presence of religious art, especially the paintings of the Italian Renaissance, and Protestants are not.

Catholic Christianity is much older than printing. In an illiterate world, the painting, the icon and the statue are tools for teaching and important sources for contemplation and prayer. Protestantism followed and, in a large manner, may even have been caused by the invention of printing, which allowed Christians to obtain their own copies of the Bible. Guided by the Holy Spirit, a Christian could read the Sacred Word each day by himself. On Sundays he could join others in a meeting hall and hear the Word proclaimed and sermons preached. Protestantism is verbal. The devout worshiper has no need for pictures.

Spurred by my students’ responses, I have examined 24 paintings (or reproductions), a mosaic and an illustrated manuscript on the subject. No doubt there are more.

A 12th-century mosaic in the Capella Palatina, in Palermo, shows Paul on foot. So does the ninth-century manuscript Cosmas Indicopleustes, in the Vatican Library. After the 12th century, however, Paul and his companions appear on horseback.^b

Despite the increased knowledge of the ancient world that characterized the Renaissance in Europe, artists of this period were not students of history. (Even Renaissance historians were not students of history as we now understand the field.) Rather, these artists followed precedent and custom. They understood that Paul was a great man and, of course, a great man travels on a horse. American public statuary follows a similar tradition—all Civil War generals ride horses.

When an artist at that time approached a subject, he asked himself, “How does an artist represent Paul?” He might look to earlier works, such as Michelangelo’s great fresco painted in 1545 in the private chapel of Pope Paul III. In this painting the horse so dominates the scene that we fear Michelangelo forgot about Paul in his enthusiasm for the horse. Or an artist might remember Raphael’s tapestry, prepared in 1517 for the Sistine Chapel, which pictures a whole group of horses and horsemen. Almost every painter after Michelangelo included a horse or, more often, many horses. These Renaissance images have colored modern Catholics’ understanding of the event.

Not all readers will find my explanation of the horse/non-horse phenomenon convincing. I am not interested in having the final word on this subject; I wish rather to start a discussion on the matter. Has anyone else noticed this odd split in the way people envision Paul’s conversion? Does anyone have a better explanation than the one I have put forward? If you do, BR would like to hear from you.

As Paul was journeying to Damascus to persecute the Christians there, “suddenly a light from heaven flashed about him. And he fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’” (Acts 9:3–4). Question: At this critical moment, when Paul was converted to Christianity, did he fall off a horse? Answer: It depends. If you are a Catholic, you think he fell off a horse. If you are a Protestant, you believe he was on foot and did not fall from a horse. As a professor of English literature for 37 […]