I’ll admit my bias up front: today, but for “particular norms” granted to the U.S. bishops, should be celebrated nationally as the Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord. In some parts of the country, it is. Most of the United States will mark the Ascension next Sunday: Jesus may have ascended on the 40th day after Easter, but many American bishops have him departing on the 43rd.

For those (arch)dioceses that do not mark today as the Ascension, the liturgical calendar allows celebration of the optional memorial of Pope St. Paul VI (1897-1978). Pope St. Paul VI succeeded Pope St. John XXIII in June 1963, reigning until Aug. 6, 1978. He was succeeded by Pope John Paul I. He was canonized in 2018.

Why does his optional memorial fall on May 29? Paul died on the Feast of the Transfiguration, which takes liturgical precedence. In such instances, a feast usually reverts from one’s dies natalis, one’s “birth into eternity,” to one’s temporal birthday. But Sept. 26 (Paul’s birthday) is also the optional memorial of Ss. Cosmas and Damian who, by reason of the antiquity of their cult, get calendrical dibs. May 29, 1920, was the day of Paul’s ordination to the priesthood.

Coming from northern Italy, Giovanni Battista Montini was the son of a lawyer, journalist, Catholic activist and Italian parliamentarian. Montini entered seminary in 1916 and was ordained in 1920 while also earning a doctorate in canon law. By 1922, Montini found his way into the Vatican Secretariat of State, in which he served until he became Archbishop of Milan in 1954. His sole diplomatic posting was at the start of his career: secretary in the nunciature to newly independent Poland. The rest of his career was in the Vatican Curia. He eventually became sostituto, or deputy secretary of state, essentially the primary paperwork liaison with the pope, a job he held from 1937 to 1953.

Montini’s appointment as Archbishop of Milan was his first real pastoral assignment, during which he gained a reputation one might call theologically “moderately liberal” — not as traditional as Pius XII, for whom he had worked through much of his papacy, nor as innovative as John XXIII. It was John who created him a cardinal in 1958. He was early on seen as a likely successor in the papacy, to which he was elected June 21, 1963.

Paul decided to continue the Second Vatican Council, which John XXIII had convoked, eventually bringing it to a conclusion in 1965. It was during his pontificate that many of the reforms proclaimed in the name of the Council — especially liturgical reforms — were enacted.

Paul chose his name after the Apostle to the Gentiles, seeing his role as a modern-day Apostle to the world. He was the first Pope in more than a century to leave Italy (during the era of papal self-proclaimed “prisoner of the Vatican” status, from Italian unification until the Concordat, five popes had refused even to leave the Vatican). He would be the first pope to visit six continents. He was the first to visit the United States, coming to the United Nations in New York in 1965.

He promoted ecumenical contact, especially with the Orthodox, meeting the Ecumenical Patriarch in Jerusalem and Istanbul and lifting excommunications dating from the Schism of 1054. He also met with the Copts and actively engaged with the Anglicans.

As Pope, he created as cardinals his three immediate successors: Albino Luciani (John Paul I), Karol Wojtyła (John Paul II) and Josef Ratzinger (Benedict XVI).

Paul VI wrote seven encyclicals, dealing with topics such as social justice, the Eucharist, ecclesiology, celibacy and Mariology. His most well-known (though probably in caricature rather than actual “having-been-read” form) was the 1968 encyclical, Humanae vitae. It reaffirms the constant core teaching of Catholic sexual ethics that the procreative and unitive meanings of the marital act are joined together by God and, therefore, their separation through human initiative or their use outside marriage is immoral (no. 12). Paul’s foresight into the baneful consequences of rejecting that teaching — found throughout the encyclical — has been rightly characterized as “prophetic.”

Paul’s physical capacity declined in the later years of his 15-year pontificate. He died at Castel Gandolfo on the Feast of the Transfiguration in 1978.

Discussing “the saints and art” when it comes to modern figures like Pope Paul VI is difficult. For one, the prevalence of photography and modern communications (e.g., video) obviate the strict need for paintings. Official paintings at the beginning of a pontificate do not and cannot take account of possible subsequent canonization, which means we usually get a mere likeness without necessarily any of the attributes or telling scenes of events characteristic of more traditional saints’ lives.

We could discuss Paul VI through the lens of his own artistic preferences, e.g., he was partial to modern art (as we see from his ferula and the sculpture in the modern papal audience hall). He liked Chagall. His own aesthetic philosophy is discussed here.

Instead, I chose to discuss Paul VI and art through the lens of a more traditional art form: papal heraldry. Every pope (like every bishop) has a coat of arms. Upon papal election, popes sometimes modify them. The entire work combines two elements: symbols of the office and the personal coat of arms.

Indicative of the office is the triple papal tiara which surmounts the coat of arms and the crossed gold and silver keys, pointing to Christ’s entrusting to Peter “the keys of the kingdom” (Matthew 16:19). These same symbols appear, for example, on the Vatican flag (which, unlike what we see in many Catholic churches in the United States, should be square).

Paul was the last pope actually to be crowned with the papal tiara, though its presence persisted on the coats of arms of John Paul I (who had foregone coronation) and John Paul II. By Benedict XVI and subsequently, we see a three-banded bishop’s miter substituting for the tiara.

Indicative of the person are the particulars of his coat of arms. In the case of Paul VI, they are very simple: three fleur-de-lis at the top of the coat of arms, six mountain peaks (arranged in three-two-one fashion) at its bottom. One source claims the three fleur-de-lis in Montini’s coat of arms refer to the Trinity, although the fleur-de-lis is often also a Marian symbol and Paul VI had a particular devotion to Our Lady. The little mountain peaks at the bottom come from the family’s original coat of arms and are a play on its surname (Montini) little mountains. Paul hailed from Brescia, in northern Italy, which is already the foothills of the Alps, adjacent to Switzerland and Austria.

Compare that to the new coat of arms of Pope Leo XIV. Divided diagonally, the upper part’s white fleur-de-lis and the blue background are Marian symbols and colors, especially of purity. The lower part depicts a pierced heart resting on a book. It reflects Leo’s Augustinian heritage: “Our hearts are restless until they rest in” God, as St. Augustine reminds us at the beginning of his Confessions. The book may refer to the Confessions but more likely to Scripture and/or to the command in Confessions that combines them both. That command finally launches Augustine’s long-delayed conversion. He hears the command to tolle lege, (“take and read”), which results in his opening the Bible to Romans 13:13-14, where Paul calls on Christians to walk upright and “make no provision for desires of the flesh.”

Why not delve into the particular art of heraldry by examining some more papal coats of arms? Compare them to those of your local bishop, whose heraldry combines more generic episcopal insignia and elements of the diocesan coat of arms.

[For more information/background, see here, here and here.]