ART AND DEVOTION
The Joy and Sorrow of the Virgin Mother of God Caroline Farey discusses a magnificent painting of the Blessed Virgin by Hans Memling
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nlike other paintings of the Annunciation, Hans Memling, one of the great artists of the 15th century from the Netherlands, has painted the Blessed Virgin swooning and being upheld by angels. This is not mentioned in the scriptural account, of course, but the reasons why Memling may have painted Mary in this way will become clear as we unfold the symbolism that he has included in this depiction. A period of great Flemish painters began with Jan van Eyck (1390-1441), followed by Rogier van der Weyden (1400-1464) amongst others, in whose studio Hans Memling (1430-1494) is believed to have been an apprentice and whose Annunciation scenes he has clearly copied and adapted here. These adaptations are significant and worth noting. For Rogier van der Weyden, as for many, the Holy Spirit enters on a beam of light indicating that he is sent from God the Father. Here Memling has deliberately omitted this light beam and painted instead, the Holy Spirit directly over Mary’s head like an epiclesis, within a circle of rainbow colours, ‘the Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.’(Lk 1:35). The addition of Archangel Gabriel’s priestly cope over his alb adds another liturgical element to the scene, as does the eagle embroidered on the orphrey on the Archangel’s arm. This is the symbol of St John the Evangelist whose Gospel’s opening verses are read at the end of every mass, ‘In principio erat verbum,’ and ‘verbum caro factum est’. On the cabinet at the back of the room beside the window, Memling has added three objects. The first is a glass carafe, with a pure white stopper, through which the light is perfectly reflected – a symbol of Mary’s virginity through which Christ, the Light of the World would pass perfectly, leaving Mary’s virginity shining from divine light and unaltered.
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The other objects are a taper coil ready to be lit and an empty candlestick – both indicating the true light who has, this instant, been conceived and for which the material world has waited ‘with eager longing’ (Rns 8:19). Mary’s purity is also portrayed by the most frequently used symbol, the vase of lilies, but here the white lilies are accompanied by a purple iris, commonly called a ‘sword lily’, which symbolises the sword of sorrow that Simeon later prophesised would pierce Mary’s heart (Lk2:35). Looking now at the two angels either side of Mary we see the same double message as that of the two kinds of lily. One of the angels has dark green wings, wears purple and stoops to support Mary as she faints. The angel looks down and gathers up Mary’s dark cloak together with the hem of her pure white dress – white for eternal joy and the midnight blue cloak that the iris just bends over to touch, for the impending sorrow. Mary, then, is not simply fainting at the shock of being in the presence of the Archangel Gabriel or hearing his announcement. The feast of Our Lady of Compassion, (or ‘Sorrow’) was added to the Roman Missal in 1482 exactly around the time of this painting and it is possible that Memling includes these symbols of suffering that Mary endures by her compassion, in the light of the new and popular feast. ‘Compassion’ comes from two Latin words, ‘com’ – ‘with’ and ‘passio’ – ‘to suffer’. Mary was accepting to ‘suffer with’ and for the Son of God who she has this moment conceived, uniting herself to him to the point of death, her own or her son’s, since pregnancy before the marriage ceremonies were complete, was punishable by death. Meanwhile, the robes of the second angel more strongly catch our attention, shining in bright contrast to the shadows of the purple robes of the angel we have just been observing. The angel here is
the one figure who looks straight out of the painting at us as though to give us a message. As he supports the Virgin’s arm, notice that his first finger and thumb are held together as one – an ancient sign of the two natures of the one person of Christ, leaving the other three fingers to symbolise the Trinitarian Godhead. This hand appears right beside the Virgin’s slightly swollen belly, indicating to us who it is that she has conceived. Mary’s open left hand points to the open Scriptures for confirmation of this miracle in the Word of God which, with her right hand, she accepts with her whole heart. After the Virgin Mary and the angels, the most prominent element of the whole scene is the bright red bed with its corner curtain tied up into a hanging sack-like shape, high up and central in the painting. These details appear in too many paintings to be merely decorative, especially as they correspond with frequent references in the Fathers of the Church to the Blessed Virgin as the ‘thalamus Dei’ (bed or nuptial chamber of God) or ‘thalamus humanitas Christi’ (bed chamber of the humanity of Christ). Some commentators see the curtain sack as a sign of the womb of Our Lady in which the conception of Christ is taking place. Others, noting the patristic texts referring to Mary as the new tabernacle, see a reference to the Eucharist which, at that time, was commonly kept in a hanging pyx above the altar. Thus the incarnation, the Sacred Species and the Mass are regularly presented to the faithful in scenes of the Annunciation. Finally, woven on the orphrey of Gabriel’s cloak, one can see a six-winged seraph. The seraphim were the ‘burning ones’, understood to be those closest to the burning love of our Father in heaven, the love by which he gave his Son to mankind at the fiat of Our Blessed Lady and continues to make Him present at every Mass by the Holy Spirit.
WINTER 2020
