MARYS for May #15 – Dirty Toenails / Beautiful Feet

Madonna di Loretto

Caravaggio, Oil on Canvas c. 1603-06, Church of S. Agostino, Rome

“How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" Romans 10:15

Caravaggio is one of everyone’s favorite artists. His incomparable mastery of light and shadow (“chiaroscuro” in the evocative Itailan) and his hyper-realism appeal to almost everyone’s taste. This was not always the case. When the painting in the church of S. Agostino near the Piazza Navona was unveiled in the early 17th century, “a great cackle (‘schiamazzo’ in another delightful Italian original)” arose over the painting, according to one of Caravaggio’s many rivals.  The elite of Rome were outraged; the ordinary people flocked to see the painting.

What was the fuss all about? It comes down to dirty feet.

The painting shows two dirty and tired pilgrims arriving late at night at the shrine of the Holy House of Loretto. According to tradition, Mary’s house in Nazareth, where she was conceived, where the Angel Gabriel appeared to her, and where Jesus grew up, “flew” to the sanctuary of Loretto in search of safety from the dangers of the Crusades. I cannot help thinking of the Wizard of Oz, but for the faithful of the day, the house had a powerful appeal:  This was the place where Mary and Jesus lived and breathed, worked and prayed, where they lived a “real” life. As the pilgrims kneel in prayer before the shadowy door of the holy house, something wonderful happens. Mary and the child Jesus step out onto the doorstep to bless them. A light that seems to come from nowhere (this is sometimes called Caravaggio light) illumines them and is reflected on the astonished faces of the pilgrims.

The pilgrims in their travel-stained clothing were vulgar enough, but this depiction of Mary and her son was shocking beyond belief. They look as if they have just been awakened, their faces red and puffy with sleep. Mary’s clothes are disheveled, and she struggles to keep her squirming son wrapped in his bed sheet.  Her pose is awkward; she twists her shoulders and hips to keep her too-large child from slipping out of her arm. Her feet are bare. Her toenails are dirty.

I have always loved those bare feet and dirty toenails. They bring me back to an important truth. We are always tempted to make the Incarnation less real, less physical, too spiritual.  We forget that the everyday life of Jesus and Mary was not lived in the elegant perfection of a Renaissance palace, but amidst the dirt and distractions of a poor farming village. The Incarnation did not remove them from any of the demands of living a “real” life. They ate and slept; there were even diapers to change. Pope Francis likes to speak about pastors “who have the smell of the sheep.” Caravaggio gives us a Mother and Savior who have the dirty feet of the poor. How beautiful. Good news indeed.