Pieta as Nativity Scene

Michelangelo's Pieta has always captured my attention. The marble giant was first introduced to me as a high school sophomore in my European History course. My classmates were overwhelmed: yards of stone fabric draped over Mary’s large frame, one hand cradling her lifeless son, the other held palm up as if asking a question. They saw the Son of Man lying limply, his every tendon, rib, and hair carved by Michelangelo’s precise hand. I did not notice any of this. My focus, instead, was fixed upon the face of the Holy Mother. Her expression is not that of a grieving woman; she is serene, youthful, submissive. Her face changed the scene: no longer was she huddled at the base of the cross holding a corpse. No, she was now seated in a manger in Bethlehem thirty years before. Mary is cradling a newborn babe, the King of kings. Mere moments after the birth of her son, she already realizes the sacrifice that is to come, but she does not fear—her love transcends the grief. I am still amazed by how a slab of marble can simultaneously evoke so many contrasting emotions in its audience. Its ability to draw people in truly makes it Baroque art.