Faith, Myth, and Mystery in the Renaissance Masterpieces

Titian's Annunciation, c. 1560

I've always wondered if the ancient Greeks and Romans actually believed in all those Gods and Goddesses, those capricious, conflicted supernatural yet all-so-human beings that explained the vicissitudes of existence for them. My doubtfulness, common to our time, must owe something to the fact that we were all taught about the Gods under the banner of mythology, to say nothing of our modern wariness of superstition. Yet, having just spent time in Italy, including five days in Rome, it is clear that yes, of course, they did literally believe. You don't endeavor to build the Pantheon, a stupendous technical and aesthetic achievement, to honor a myth or fable.

The same question comes to mind when viewing the masterworks of the Renaissance. Surely they didn't actually believe, wonders the modern secularist. I suppose Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese, and Michelangelo possibly just knew a good gig when they saw one, so accepted the challenge of expressing Christian themes as well as could possibly be done. If I recall, it is said that Michelangelo was in fact quite devout, and that seems right. Could one really sculpt the immensely moving Pieta without believing?

Setting aside the belief-unbelief question, the artists of the Renaissance definitely had some excellent material to work with. One need not necessarily believe, as the movie title put it, that the story of Jesus is "the greatest story ever told," to see how rich in implications the key scenes of the New Testament, as well as those of the Old Testament (or, more properly, the Hebrew Scriptures), are, not only in terms of drama but also in resonances and overtones that hit on an existential level, regardless of whether one is a Christian or not. This is because the episodes thrive at the level of myth, understood in the Joseph Campbell sense. Myths are stories that have explanatory power at a deeply felt or intuited level. So the myth is "true" at that level. But it must be said that the myth need not be "untrue" in a factual or historical sense for it still to function as such. 

As we saw the same episodes in the Christ story being depicted over and over again, the one that really stood out for me was the Annunciation, in which Mary is told by the archangel Gabriel that she would bring the Son of God or messiah into the world by means of the Virgin Birth. To the modern person, this may be the most preposterous story in the Bible. Yet, along with the crucifixion and subsequent victory over death of Jesus, it is the most important story. Whence the power of this? For the Christian, the meaning is simple, Mary was chosen by God as the vehicle and impetus for the chain of events that would mean nothing less than the salvation of the world. Yet, even for the believer, what occurs is inexplicable. This is where God and faith come in. 

For me, in viewing, what struck me was not the wonder of the miracle itself, as I am not a Christian, at least in any traditional sense. What struck me was the attempt to explain how the impossible is made possible. For this is the ultimate existential question. How did something come out of nothing? For if something exists, then surely so must nothing. But we cannot conceive of this; it's not within our capacity. Where we place a question mark, believers place God. No matter. And though they frame the question as how does God enter a world manifestly not of his nature, I have no problem substituting the question of how consciousness emerges from non-consciousness, i.e., something manifestly not of its nature. Thus the Virgin Birth, regardless of whether it is a Christian story or not, scratches that existential itch having to do with the fundamental incomprehensibility of life. 

Up next, more reflections on the humanness of Christian art.