Duccio di Buoninsegna (+1319) painted this image: Madonna and Child around the year 1300. His new style of painting is important for the shifting away from a strictly Byzantine depiction to a softer, more natural approach which invites a tender interaction. We can sense there is a human body under the drapery of Duccio's figures.
Discovering that this very small image of the Mother of God is housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue in New York City, I pilgrim-ed there this past week. The journey for me was essentially 147 miles, but with the convoluted paths of bus and subway, I'm figuring closer to 200 miles. Even inside the museum, one has to navigate the European Collection, containing dozens of small galleries.
A docent was leading her museum tour when I arrived. One fellow was asking technical questions about egg tempera and the painting's crumbly frame. I was pleased when they moved on, leaving me alone to wonder if my thoughts might be the first prayer the icon had received in centuries of museum life.
So, here's my prayer (below) and a good photograph (above) that captures the light and brilliant colors of Mary's maphorion and the Child's robes.
This rendezvous, O Lady —
yours of seven centuries,
mine —
the miles of my life,
and the last two hundred,
by bus, subway and foot,
to this moment of encounter
in gallery 644.
Encased in glass,
there's no camera flash,
no kiss,
no kneeling,
no incense,
no touch —
no weeping,
except the weeping of my heart
for joy at having found you,
and for our world of self inflicted wound
into which you lean,
over heaven's parapet.
The holy boy,
pulling back your veil
of golden threads,
reveals your maternal gaze...
Give us new eyes for seeing.
Father Stephen P. Morris
