Many great works of literature begin in medias res: a writer often does not begin at the beginning—the events that set a story in motion—but “hastens the outcome, and snatches the reader into the midst of the action” (Horace, Ars poetica). The Gospels are no exception. Mark begins suddenly with the appearance of John the Baptist preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Luke, who intends to write an orderly account of the things which have been accomplished among us (Lk 1:1, 3), begins with the events leading to the births of John the Baptist and his cousin Jesus. Matthew opens his Gospel with the genealogy of Jesus Christ, but begins with Abraham rather than all the way back with Adam. John alone begins at the beginning, with the Word who was with God and was God, but this is a beginning which is without beginning or end.

Early Christians cherished the fourfold Gospel as the word that comes forth from the mouth of God (Dt  8:3), but curiosity about the many other things that Jesus did (Jn 21:25) left much room for the imagination. Early Christians were particularly intrigued by the early life of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In the Gospel of Luke, we first encounter Mary in medias res: In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary (Lk 1:26-27).

How old was Mary? Where had she come from? How had she become betrothed to Joseph? What was she doing before the Gospel begins? Most importantly, how had she been prepared to give her great Fiat to the Annunciation? The sacred author, in his wisdom, decided not to answer these questions, interesting though they may be. Nevertheless, the artistic tradition of the Church, building on early traditions and non-canonical stories about Jesus and Mary, offers much food for thought as we reflect on the mother of the Bread of Angels.

The Sienese painter Paolo di Giovanni Fei gives a vivid portrayal of the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple, drawing on early non-canonical stories of Mary’s childhood. According to the 2nd–3rd century Protoevangelium of James, Mary was brought to the Temple in Jerusalem at the age of three by her parents Joachim and Anne in fulfilment of a vow they had made to dedicate their child to God.

In Paolo’s painting, a rather mature-looking three-year-old stands serenely on the top step of an elevated platform. Four figures are endowed with halos. Joachim and Anne stand to our left, reassuring their daughter with encouraging gestures. The haloed man on the top step is Zechariah, the future father of Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist. Although the Protoevangelium only names Zechariah in a later passage, when Mary is twelve years old, the priest’s halo is an indication that Paolo is following an artistic tradition which links Zechariah to the reception of Mary in the temple. Paolo’s depiction of Zechariah reaching out to embrace the child recalls the description of Mary’s reception in the Protoevangelium: “And the priest took her and kissed her and blessed her, saying, ‘The Lord has magnified your name among all generations….’ And he placed her on the third step of the altar, and the Lord God put grace upon her and she danced with her feet, and the whole house of Israel loved her.”

While apocryphal sources such as the Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew emphasise Mary’s eagerness to enter the temple, claiming that “she did not look back at all; nor did she, as children are wont to do, seek for her parents,” Paolo offers a more nuanced portrayal of Mary’s emotions on this occasion. Her gaze rests midway between her parents and her uncle. Mary’s posture denotes both firmness of will and resignation to the will of the Lord. Even her garments hint at her intermediary role—not fully gold like those of the priest, and not merely lined with gold like those of her parents. Mary is being prepared to accept her future role as the Mother of the Mediator between God and Men. As the Protoevangelium puts it, “Mary was in the Temple of the Lord nurtured like a dove and received food from the hand of an angel.” The one who would knead the bread of angels in her womb (to borrow an image from Paolo’s contemporary Saint Catherine of Siena) and offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves to consecrate her offspring to the Lord (cf. Lk 2:22-24) was fittingly provided for while preparing for these tasks.

Paolo di Giovanni Fei’s painting was made at the end of the 14th century to adorn the altar of the chapel of Saint Peter at the Duomo of Siena. Although the feast of the Presentation in the Temple had long been celebrated in the East, it was only widely introduced to the West beginning in 1372, just a few decades before the subject was chosen for this painting. The feast was spread through the influence of Philippe de Mézières (c. 1327–1405), who sought to restore unity with the Greek Orthodox and thought that the introduction of this Eastern feast in the West would favour this goal. A few years later, in 1389, Pope Urban VI introduced the feast of the Visitation of Mary in a similar effort to end the Western Schism through the intercession of the Blessed Mother. In both cases, the feasts quickly became beloved -occasions of the liturgical year, inviting the intercession of Mary and encouraging Christians to imitate her in -singlehearted devotion to God and neighbour. Like all the feasts of the liturgy, they invite us to place ourselves in -medias res, meditating on the One who has done, and is doing, great things for us.

Father Innocent Smith, O.P.

Dominican friar of the Province of Saint Joseph and professor of liturgical studies
at the Dominican House of Studies in Washington, DC.

The Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple (c. 1398–1399), Paolo di Giovanni Fei (c. 1335/1345–1411), National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC. © Digital image Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington.