The Pieta

As one walks through the magnificent St Peter’s Basilica in Vatican, one is awe-stuck at the innumerable works of art displayed at the holy place. The bigger than life size sculptures of popes of the bygone days, the paintings of some of the most notable artistes of different ages; beauty and sanctity have joined hands, and sometimes it is art which takes the upper hand, and religiosity moves behind. There is pomp and magnificence as one walks through the sacred portals, sanctified by innumerable men and women over the two millennia. But what remains today in this headquarters of the Roman Catholicism is of great and immense value to the universe and to humanity. In a sense, Vatican and the city of Rome bear witness to the great sense of art that Romans entertained in their design of the city, buildings, walls, temples. Imagine the Pantheon in the heart of Rome, which has altars for all possible religious groups, thus paving way for inter-faith communion, rather than dialogue.

But let me focus my attention to one of the most note-worthy treasures of St Peter’s Basilica in Vatican, the Pieta by Leonardo da Vinci. The marble sculpture bears witness to the close bond that a mother and her son can cherish. The gentleness of the mother almost flowing out of her grace-filled face, and the humble submission of the Son, who allows himself to be cuddled by the all loving hands of the Mother – you would probably need a magnifying glass to really study the feelings and emotions that the artist has poured into his work of art. This is one place in the basilica, where there is always a big crowd, as they enter in, and find it soon at the right. The life size sculpture captures the basic human bond, in the most eloquent way, and it is a treat to the body and the soul of every mother and son, who are tied by a bond beyond all telling.

Perhaps the most enduring bond between two human beings is between a mother and her child. Even in 60, a man is a child to his mother, a woman is a child to her mother. That filial bond can never be severed, even if one party deliberately wishes so. This is one of the miracles of nature; even in 60, a son would love to rest his head on the lap of his mother, who might be in her eighties. The comfort and security of this bond is so very different from the kind of bond that the world knows. Is it not strange then that when a person who is old enough to be a grandparent is sick, the person’s mother would love to take care of him/her as if the person were a child; she would not even hesitate to bathe, feed and dress him/her. One can be as vulnerable and helpless as one is in front of one’s mother, because she only can understand the child she had given not only birth, but also shaped inch by inch. It is this eternal bond that flows out of the Pieta.

One of the greatest gifts that we human beings can cherish is our mothers; this is in no way to belittle the significant role that our fathers play in our lives. Since we had been dependent on her from the moment of conception, through the long months of carrying in the womb, and seeing the light of day through her body, we carry in ourselves our mothers. We had been drinking her blood every time we suckled her breasts, and were nourished by it. But coming in contact with the worldly pressures, we lose touch with the tenderness of our mothers, and become hard at heart. The suppleness of heart, tenderness of feelings are lost too soon. I wish we take the photos of our mothers at some of the most significant moments of our life on earth: childbirth, sickness, success, pain. It is only a mother who can give back the life her son or daughter had lost.

Today I would like to place myself in front of the Pieta, and bring to my eyes my mother; I would like to replace the eternal mother with my own mother, and would like to replace the eternal Word with my own self. I would like to see myself cuddled by my mother; caressed by her loving tender hands. I would like to become a child again to her, so that I may experience the bond that keeps me close to her. I also would like to thank all the mothers who have crossed my way; I have another mother who has nurtured my intellectual thirst, another mother who nurtures me when I am very far from my biological mother. After all, all mothers have this quality of tenderness in their genes, and today I bow my head to these mothers, and pray for God’s abundant blessings on them. I only wish I have the tenderness and loving compassion that my mothers have for me! (Brussels)