The image featured today, of the "Virgin and Child with St Catherine and St Barbara" (1520-25), painted by the so-called Master of the Holy Blood, might be somewhat inappropriate for the Advent season that we are marking (as it depicts the Virgin with the already-born Child). However, it might also be useful for other purposes, of deepening our understanding of the Advent season that we are going through.
Just like the other "seasons" of the liturgical year, the Advent season slices up the astronomical (cosmic, calendar) year into sections which hearken back to and re-present (i.e. make present again) key moments or periods from salvation history (the history of the relationship of God with his people, with mankind). By doing that, they transport us into that moment of salvation history, and elevate us to a different plane of meaning. This is how, as we mentioned, the Advent that we live through each year is a re-living of the period of expectation that Israel itself, and mankind itself, experienced and lived through, before and leading up to, the birth of the Son of Man.
Today's painting, then, is a good illustration of the same mechanisms and connections, of the same plays with different kinds of "time" and meanings.
While painted in the sixteenth century, this triptych depicts interactions and relationships that span fifteen hundred years. At the center of the frame is the Virgin and the Child (first century), adored (and physically touched) by St Catherine (fourteenth century) and St Barbara (third century, Byzantine). On the side wings of the triptych, the two donors (who paid for the making of this painting, and thus contemporary - from the sixteenth century) are depicted, each of them being supported by their patron saint (St Joachim, by tradition the father of the Virgin, and thus first century) and St Judocus (seventh century). In the background, other scenes from salvation history or from the lives of these saints are depicted, spanning various centuries of cosmic time.
And yet, no matter this crisscrossing through various moments and periods of historical time the story depicted is coherent, as it all takes place in the extratemporal "now," in the everlasting "present," of eternity. The eternity of God, which is also the eternity of faith.
But let us return again to the painting, and notice that the buildings and habitations depicted are all contemporary (i.e. sixteenth century); in fact, there might even be a Christian church (!) on the hill to the left (which would be highly incongruous with a historical depiction of the infant Jesus and of his Mother). Continuing with this temporally-rooted examination, one will also notice that all the characters, while belonging to different eras and culture (and perhaps excluding the Virgin and the Child), are dressed in "contemporary" fashion - in the fashion of the time (sixteenth century), and of the place (Northern Europe - current Belgium).
What is happening here? Surely the author was well aware of these "historical" or "cultural inconsistencies." Of course. But dressing the characters of salvation history, and of the history of the Church, in contemporary gowns, and situating them in the context of our day, of this moment, and of our surroundings, also carries a very powerful message. Namely, that we are all part of the same "story", a story that is not past, but actual and immediate; and that, notwithstanding the accidents of geographic or temporal differences, we all partake in the same human condition, and in the same sacred condition (in terms of our relationship to the eternal God).
The danger, as Kierkegaard pointed out, and as illustrated in a recent film by Terrence Malick, rests exactly in the attempt to use temporality (historical distance) as an excuse and as protection, against facing the radical questions and provocations of salvation history: of facing the infant Jesus, of being looked in the eyes by the Christ.
Living - truly living - the seasons of Advent is thus a means of bridging this faux gap and bypassing this temptation, as it puts us right in the middle of the great questions, and of the great invitation: such as the question of "What is truth?", which Pilate asked, when faced with Christ; and the invitation "Venite adoremus" (oh, come let us adore him), which is the invitation of Nativity offered to us, today, just like it was offered, contemporaneously, to the magi or to the shepherds.
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