Priesthood | God-Lights

Caravaggio’s masterpiece The Calling of Saint Matthew captures the birth of a vocation and an encounter between God and man. It reveals a dramatic moment in which two persons meet and two separate worlds converge. With his characteristic realism, he visualizes a spiritual event and portrays the dynamism of a personal epiphany.

The_Calling_of_Saint_Matthew-Caravaggo_(1599-1600) — The Calling of Saint Matthew, Caravaggio, 1599-1600

Matthew, absorbed in his world of money and friends, is caught off guard. A ray of light illuminates the features of his surprised face. He points towards himself to inquire if he is really the one being addressed by Christ. He leans away from Jesus, but his legs seem poised to get up and move towards him. We see tension and surprise before an unexpected and radical invitation.

Watershed Moment

This is a watershed moment in which Matthew’s life teeters between two possibilities. He must make a decision either to continue clinging to his money or to follow the beckoning Galilean. He is a tax collector; up until this point, his life has been centered on money. A coin is stuck conspicuously in his hat, symbolizing the privileged place that money holds in his thoughts. With his right hand, he reaches for coins. If Matthew decides to heed the call of the austerely dressed Christ, he is going to have to give up something that has become central to his very identity.

There is another element in his life opposed to the possibility of him following Christ: his friends. They surround him and lean on him, almost protectively, forming a barrier between him and the uninvited visitor. The young man with the sword is about to get up from his stool, leaning towards Peter in a mildly aggressive manner. To follow Christ, Matthew will have to extricate himself not only from his internal attachment to money, but also from the external pressure of his friends.

The men in the left of the painting are a reminder of Matthew’s past — and of his possible future. They are hunched over their coins, completely oblivious to Christ. Their opportunity for a new, more meaningful life fades away as they continue counting silver. If Matthew does not respond to Christ, he will remain a sad miser like them.

Christ and Peter stand in stark contrast to Matthew and his companions. Their bare feet and simple clothing clash with the flamboyant colors of the tax collectors’ fashionable, 17th-century attire. Peter’s walking staff indicates their itinerant status: They are always on the move with no place to lay their heads. If Matthew follows Christ, it will not be easy. He will have to leave behind his luxurious lifestyle, stable income and even the benefit of proper footwear if he is going to be counted among the followers of this poor yet captivating man.

Christ’s Holiness vs. Matthew’s Worldliness

The contrast between Christ’s holiness and Matthew’s worldliness reflects contrasting elements of the artist’s life. Although his works depict saints and communicate profound spiritual realities, Caravaggio himself was far from angelic. His short life (1571 – 1610) was a paradox of great success and self-inflicted failure. Despite the popularity that he enjoyed among the Roman elite, time and time again his nasty temper and rowdy night life landed him in courts and jails. His misdemeanors ranged from consorting with prostitutes to throwing artichokes at a waiter. But the climax of his crimes occurred in 1606: he murdered a man in a violent duel. Forced to flee Rome, Caravaggio died of a fever four years later after a series of unfortunate events, much to the glee of his enemies and the sorrow of his admirers.

In the painting, Christ did not hold himself aloof from the worldly Matthew, but takes the initiative to approach him personally. God works through weak instruments. Like the rays of light in a typical Caravaggio work, God shines through the weakness of human nature and uses flawed individuals to communicate his own goodness to the world. He used a troubled artist to create beautiful, spiritual paintings that 400 years later do not cease to inspire and awe. He used a sinful tax collector to write his Gospel.

Matthew has to make a decision soon because Christ is on his way out the door. Even as he calls Matthew, he is stepping away from the table, adding a sense of urgency to the moment. Christ is calling, but not waiting. His left hand is open and motions in the direction he is going, and his right hand points dramatically towards Matthew.

Human-Divine Encounters

In addition to the personal call of Matthew, this painting has a deeper meaning. It illustrates the new relationship between God and man made possible by Jesus Christ. Before the coming of Christ, there existed an infinite abyss between the Creator and humanity. It was traversable only by someone who was a part of both worlds, i.e. a God-Man. Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, bridges this gap. A space of darkness, situated between Christ’s group and Matthew’s group, symbolizes this great divide. The darkness is bridged by the extended hand of Christ, the Light of the World.

Christ’s right hand is held very much like the hand of Adam in Michelangelo’s famous Sistine Ceiling.

However, it points in a direction different from that of Adam’s: from right to left, just as the hand of Michelangelo’s God the Father. This combination illustrates Christ’s two natures. He is man, the perfect man, the New Adam. But he is also God, consubstantial with the Father. What Christ is doing in this painting is analogous to the creative action of God the Father. In Michelangelo’s work, God the Father is about to give life to the physically inert body of Adam. In Caravaggio’s work, Christ is about to give spiritual life to the spiritually empty Matthew. He is about to elevate him from his superficial tax-collecting existence to the fulfilling life of an apostle.

This masterpiece is also an iconic depiction of the human-divine encounter that takes place in every priestly vocation. When God reaches out to the called man, there is always a moment of decision such as this: Christ unexpectedly breaks into his life and he discovers, in an overwhelming instant of revelation, that Jesus desires him. This realization is often followed by the tension shown in “The Calling of Saint Matthew”: the call of the divine and the pull of the mundane; the beckoning of a new Friend and the clinging of old friends; the freedom of poverty and the slavery of greed; the comfort of daily routine and the adventure of following Christ. The called man finds himself in the middle of a tug-of-war that only he can end. If he responds like Matthew, he will find what Matthew found: the exhilarating joy of following Christ.

The Ministerial Priesthood

Thirty-five newly-ordained confreres of mine were very excited about being greeted by Pope Francis yesterday during the general audience, but I do not think that any of them expected how he chose to greet them: in an amazing reversal of protocol, he bent over kissed each of their hands.

Breaking protocol is nothing new for Pope Francis – we all remember how he caused a stir when he bowed to the Queen of Jordan – but I think that yesterday’s gesture was particularly significant. Traditionally, one must greet the Pope by kissing his ring (which is hard to do with Pope Francis, unless you duck in before he pulls his hand away), so what does it mean when the Vicar of Christ himself kisses the hand of a priest? I have been thinking about that since yesterday.

Many of the new priests are friends of mine whom I have known since my days in minor seminary and in the novitiate. I got to know some of them pretty well, so it was especially awesome to watch them be transformed instantaneously from ordinary men, with qualities and quirks like anyone else, into ordained ministers, “other Christs”. These comrades of mine with whom I have lived, worked, and prayed for years are now sacramentally identified with the Second Person of the Holy Trinity: a profound ontological change has occurred in each of them. They now have the power to act in persona Christi: with a word, they can transform bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ, and with another they can wipe away decades of sin.

Yesterday morning, ordinary eyes would have seen only 35 men going to meet the Holy Father, but Pope Francis does not have ordinary eyes – he has eyes of faith. When he looked at that group of fresh new priests, he saw Christ: he bowed to reverence his Lord who had deigned to make Himself present in each of those men and he humbled himself before the One whose Vicar he is.

The Common Priesthood

Anyone who has done a tour with me of St. Peter’s Basilica will know that the first thing I point out is a large circle of imperial porphyry near the main entrance. Imperial porphyry is extremely rare and expensive (all of the quarries have been exhausted), so why is it not roped off? Why is it that anyone who wishes may step on it? The answer is impressive.

On Christmas Day, 800 AD, Charlemagne, the first Holy Roman Emperor, was crowned by Pope Leo IV on that very stone. For centuries, the only person allowed to touch it was the emperor himself. However, it has been moved to its current position for a very significant reason: all baptized Christians participate in the kingship of Christ, and therefore, all of us have a right to tread upon royal ground. We are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:9); we share in Christ’s threefold mission as priests, prophets, and kings.

It is truly marvelous to think that we are all royal priests: by virtue of our baptism, we are mediators between God and the world. We can carry out three essentially priestly functions of worship, intercession and sanctification. By living our lives as well as we can for the glory of God, we offer worship to our Creator; by offering up prayers and sacrifices, we intercede for ourselves and others; by ordering our work and relationships towards God, we sanctify all that we do and the people with whom we live.

Obviously, there are some roles that are unique to those who have been ordained to the ministerial priesthood since only they can administer the seven sacraments. However, this does not negate the fact that we participate in Christ’s priesthood in a very real way: just as Christ, the God-man, is the bridge between God and men, so are we called to be instruments through whom others are able to come to God.

If we look at our lives with eyes of faith like those of Pope Francis, they will never seem boring or unfulfilled – how could they be when we are royal priests? When we see life from this perspective, even the most ordinary things become extraordinary: waking up in the morning, getting ready for the day, commuting to work – all of these mundane activities can be elevated to a new supernatural plane; they can be made part of an ongoing priestly sacrifice which is offered to God as an act of worship, intercession, and sanctification.