We fly...!

Here is another painting, Madonna and Child, painted by the 13th century artist, Duccio di Buoninsegna. And along with it, the oldest known prayer to the Virgin Mary, dating to the 3rd century. 

We fly to your patronage,

O Holy Mother of God,

despise not our petitions in our necessities,

but deliver us always from all dangers,

O glorious and blessed Virgin. 

Amen.

Can you feel the prayer's urgency, We fly! And the title Mother of God (Theotokos) which was formally bestowed on Mary at the Council of Ephesus in 431 A.D.

The third line gets right to it: our lives are full of necessity. We bring all our anxious concerns to the prayer, not only for ourselves, but for our families and dear ones, the nation, the church and the world. The prayer acknowledges that we live in a dangerous world. But may I suggest, the greatest dangers are those which threaten our inner lives: 

• the danger of our souls suffocating under so many possessions,
• the dangers of becoming toxic by prevailing hatreds, 
• the danger of willful ignorance and indifference. 
• the danger of not evolving or becoming who we were created to be.

Name it for yourself: what awareness of dangers do you bring to this prayer? The painting is as personal as the prayer is - notice the Holy Child looks at his mother; while she looks at us.

The prayer then ends with a burst of praise: O glorious and blessed Virgin!

The Duccio Madonna and Child

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

Having No Other Help

This early 14th century image of the Virgin Mary by Duccio di Buoninsegna is titled: Madonna and Child with Six Angels. It is lovely, isn't it? The Mother of God looks out at us, while the Divine Child looks to his mother. He holds onto her veil tightly with his right hand while reaching for his Mother's hand with the other. Six admiring angels look down on the scene while leaning over the edge of heaven.

In a series of comments off of other posts this week, some of us have talked about prayer and the world's problems. I acknowledge that we are powerless before most of it: terrorism in Europe, the great divide we find ourselves in here, the threats to the global climate, corruption in leadership, the militarization of  our planet, the refugee crisis...

Saint Francis said, "I can't do everything, but I can do something." I have a friend whose husband is in a nursing home which she visits daily. Much of the day she spends stopping in on the other residents along the corridor and doing what she can to lighten the load for the over-burdened staff. The family dog comes along, delighting everyone. "I can't do everything, but I can do something."

As for the rest? My prayer-holding heart can bring before heaven the whole human family which inhabits this weary planet. Here is a prayer to the Mother of God titled: Having No Other Help. The prayer acknowledges our ultimate powerlessness and limitation. I like prayers that "feel" something. Buoninsegna's interfacing Mary seems to invite this prayer. Does the prayer effect any change? That's not really for me to know. For me, it is enough to offer the prayer and to leave the rest to God.

We have no other help.

We have no other hope than thee, O Lady!

Help us, for in you we have placed our hope,

  and you we praise, 

We are your servants,

 let us not be put to shame.