I was drenched in sweat from the August heat when I arrived at the National Gallery in Washington, D.C., on the morning of the Feast of the Assumption. I wandered the maze of priceless art almost numbed by the sheer volume of beauty. But then I stumbled into Gallery 19 and saw it: Piero di Cosimo’s “The Visitation with Saint Nicholas and Saint Anthony Abbot.”
Mary’s facial expression caught me first. She gazes into Elizabeth’s eyes with such rapt concern that I began to weep. It felt as if I’d stepped through a divine portal and found them standing there. I began pawing through my purse to find my copy of the Mass readings. Sobbing, I began to read the Gospel passage for the day, Luke 1:39-56.
It was then that I noticed the security guard.
He circled the room silently, never meeting my eyes, keeping what he must have thought was a safe distance. From the guard’s perspective, I must have looked deranged: sweaty, sobbing and apparently caught in some kind of religious experience.
St. Ignatius might have seen me differently. He prized the gift of tears as a significant movement of the Spirit, an indication of God’s nearness and love. For my part, suddenly finding myself under the gaze of a stranger in the midst of such raw emotion both grounded and humiliated me. It gave me a moment to catch my breath and rein in the intensity of my reaction.
Looking back, I see how God communicated tenderness to me through this vulnerable moment — using the presence of a stranger to give me gentle detachment so I could fully receive the real joy of the encounter. After a few moments, I returned my attention to the Gospel and the security guard disappeared, leaving me alone with Mary and Elizabeth.
Once the intensity of my emotion ebbed, I was drawn in by the details of the painting. Two saints in the foreground, both intent on writing or reading. Behind the two women, dramas unfold. On the left, the Nativity with a glimpse of distant Magi making their way toward the Holy Family. To the far right, a scene of chaos and horror: the Massacre of the Innocents. And just above the raised swords, painted on a distant church wall, hovers the quiet mystery of the Annunciation.
At the time, I didn’t yet know the language of Ignatian spirituality. But now I see this painting as a doorway into contemplation, meditation and colloquy. Here, I’d like to bring together a prayerful gaze and an artist’s eye, inviting you to step into the Gospel through the doorway of this painting.
First, let’s ponder the Gospel passage.
During those days Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, “Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”
Now, continue on by placing yourself in God’s presence. Sink into the silence of this exquisitely tender moment of love. The Scripture says that Mary went “in haste,” but there is no sign of hurry in the interaction of the two women. Let yourself linger here, simply being present.
The artist offers a tangible “composition of place” in a scene already richly imagined. Allow your gaze to take in the full artwork. Notice how the four figures — the seated saints and the two women — form a triangular composition. This shape lends the image weight and stability. If you soften your gaze, you may notice that Mary and Elizabeth form a strong, almost heart-like shape at the center.
Consider what is happening between the two women. It’s possible that this is the moment of arrival, just as the infant in Elizabeth’s womb is leaping with joy. Return to Elizabeth’s Spirit-filled greeting: “Blessed are you among women…” (Lk1:42-45). What word, phrase or sentence speaks to your heart most deeply? How are these words expressed in Elizabeth’s expression, posture or gesture? Imagine yourself as Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit. What else do you want to say to Mary?
Let us return to the Gospel and pick up where we left off:
And Mary said: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior. For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness; behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed. The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him. He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart. He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty. He has helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy, according to his promise to our fathers, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.
After reading Mary’s Magnificat (Lk 1:46-55) slowly — perhaps aloud — let your gaze shift to the scene of the Massacre of the Innocents. What does this juxtaposition stir in you? Here we confront the scandal of evil with Mary’s confidence of faith. What message is Mary’s heart imparting to you?
Mary remained with Elizabeth for a while (cf. Lk 1:56). Stay with them now, letting your gaze roam the composition. Where do you feel invited to rest for a while?
Finally, choose someone with whom to make a colloquy: an open and warm conversation about your prayer, inviting God’s response. You might speak with any person depicted in the scene — or even with the artist himself.
Contemporary accounts describe Piero di Cosimo as a rather eccentric character, but if his painting of the Immaculate Conception is any indication, he also had a tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. You might ask him for insight, advice or clarity.
Before returning to your day, close your contemplation with a “Hail Mary” or a prayer that arises from your heart.