Heaven and earth contained

We’re at Advent IV, Annunciation Sunday. This is when Christians focus on that time when the Archangel Gabriel appeared to Mary and announced that she’d been chosen to bring the Son of God into the world via virgin birth, thus getting the whole thing rolling.

We only have the (male) Gospel accounts of that event and they pretty much gloss over what must have been quite the awkward conversation. What we’re told is that, upon receiving the announcement (no discussion allowed), Mary replies, basically, “Well, okay. I am the handmaiden of the Lord. Let’s do this.”

I was reminded of this when touring le musée du Petit Palais in Avignon, which houses a collection of Medieval art. Mary figures in a lot of the paintings—nativity, virgin and child, Mary surrounded by phalanxes of male saints who did not live during her lifetime, the annunciation…quite the fixation on Mary. Viz:

Sandro Botticelli, “Virgin and Child”:

(You're getting two Botticellis for the price of one.)

Neri di Bicci, “Virgin and Child”: 

(This one completely astounded me because look at her fingers!)

Zanobi Strozzi, “Altarpiece of Saint Jerome”

(I wondered why Jerome, so I looked him up. In addition to translating the Bible into the vulgate, it seems that the Church Father had Ideas on how women should live their lives. Because of course.)

I shouldn’t have to say this, but—without exception (unless covered by “School of” or “Anonymous”)—the painters were male. As I went from painting to painting, I was struck by the fact that a Jewish peasant girl was depicted in unlikely luxurious fabrics and furs, everything is sparkling clean and there are no other women in sight (unless the odd Saint Catherine or Saint Bridget gets mixed in with Jerome, Peter, Benedict and the rest). Mary and her role are idealized as only men who never had to bother with domestic life could idealize.

This is particularly true in pictures of the annunciation, where Mary’s reaction to Gabriel’s surprise is demure, pious or rapturous. Except for this one, by Bartolo di Fredi:

Now, this is a portrait of a teenager from the back of beyond who’s just been told by a guy claiming to be an archangel that God is sending the Holy Spirt to impregnate her to fulfill the prophesies of a messiah and for the good of man.

“Dude—wut?

On the Sunday devoted to the ultimate mother, I’m thinking of the millions of women in Ukraine, Syria, Eritrea, Tibet—around the world, really—who are holding things together for their families, friends and communities without benefit of posses of saints to lift them up. They’ve done this in the face of terror, famine, war, floods, misogyny and mansplaining. They have all had the expression di Fredi depicted on their faces more than once, but they carried on. Just like Mary.

NB: Hanukkah begins tonight. For reasons of numeracy, I got muddled about that this year and posted early. That piece is found here.

Okay, today’s Advent piece is “There Is No Rose of Such Virtue”, which dates from the 15^th Century. Mary is often symbolized by a rose, usually a white one, indicating her pure state. And here’s Sting to sing it.

May all who carry the burden of holding things together find respite, comfort and joy.