Palacio de Viana’s Secret Gardens

Filled with flowers, fountains and fruit trees, each patio at this overlooked gem in Córdoba, Spain has a story waiting to be discovered.

The Palacio de Viana dates back to the 15th century and grew to include a dozen courtyard gardens, many of which are abundant with climbing vines complemented by a distinctive shade of blue.

Suppose you have a brief stay in Córdoba, Spain, and you can only see two of this charming town’s sights. One, of course, has to be the Mezquita. But the second might be a bit surprising: We think you should head a bit off the beaten path to explore the gorgeous plant-filled patios of the Palacio de Viana. 

We might not have even visited the palace (think of it more as a museum and garden where a series of marquises lived) if we hadn’t had a bit of extra time in Córdoba and asked our friend Jo for a recommendation. She told us that it was impressive, but we were absolutely astounded by the variety and number of courtyards. There are 12 in total, not to mention the massive garden, with each taking you on a journey through the home’s extraordinary history.

The striking entrance onto the Plaza Don Gome was added by Luis Gómez de Figueroa y Córdoba, the 2nd Lord of Villaseca.

Visiting Palacio de Viana

As we set off from our lodgings at los Patios del Pañuelo, it was yet another blazingly hot afternoon in Córdoba, even though it was early October. You’re mostly sheltered from the sun by the narrow winding labyrinthine passageways of the historic center. However, after a 15-minute walk en route to the palacio, the intense heat washed over us as if an oven door had opened. The heat builds up throughout the course of the day, and somehow feels hottest around 5 p.m.

Before entering the historic landmark, Duke and I decided to pop into Taberna de Viana, a no-frills café across the street. We were drawn in by a sign advertising their hot pink dragon fruit smoothies.

The seamless blending of indoor and outdoor spaces gives the palace a beautiful harmony.

Refreshed and hydrated, we crossed the Plaza de Don Gome, the small square in front of the palacio. Because we visited during typical siesta hours, our admission was free. (You’ll find this happens a lot in Andalusia, or that the admission is remarkably cheap.)

The courtyards of Córdoba are a testament to the city’s rich history, influenced by various cultural groups, including the Romans, Visigoths, Muslims and Christians over thousands of years.

A Brief History of Cordoban Courtyards

As with most things in town, it started with the Romans. They loved to sip their watered-down wine while lounging in their interior courtyards, a practice that left its mark on Córdoba and has become a symbol of the city. 

The Muslims introduced courtyard gardens that aspired to paradise. Enter ornate tiles, gurgling fountains, reflecting pools and greenery that evokes a desert oasis. 

And when the Christians conquered Córdoba, the courtyards got another makeover, adopting the in-vogue Renaissance style (a bit of a snooze comparatively, in my humble opinion).

The Courtyard of the Columns is actually the newest of all the patios at Viana.

As time marched on, it wasn’t all sunshine and sangria, and some of the patios fell into a state of disrepair. But there’s nothing like a little friendly rivalry to encourage people to whip their courtyards into shape. Competitions were held, leading to the Fiesta de los Patios — an annual event in May that transforms the entire town into a courtyard carnival. This tradition has been recognized and honored by UNESCO since 2012.

The entrance to the palace is through this charming courtyard, which had large photos of bald women cancer survivors when we visited.

A Tour of the Palacio de Viana

Courtyard of the Gate

This courtyard was the entrance to houses once owned by neighbors, the Torres Cabreras, until it was incorporated into the Palacio de Viana in the 19th century. I particularly liked the cobbled floor. A stone pillar, probably of Roman origin and currently repurposed as a planter, was formerly used as a trough for horses and other animals.

It’s come full circle, since the patio is now used as the entrance to the visitor reception center. We left the palace through this patio, which was exhibiting photos of female cancer survivors.

Main plants: bush lilies, Lady Banks’ roses, calla lilies, bougainvillea, centaurea and geraniums

A date palm surrounded by an arcade of 16 Tuscan columns stands at the center of the Reception Courtyard.

Reception Courtyard

Originally an enclosed courtyard, its present incarnation as the entrance to the Patio de Recibo dates back to the 1500s. This transformation took place when Luis Gómez de Figueroa y Córdoba, the 2nd Lord of Villaseca, married María de Guzmán y Argote, a Cordoban noblewoman. Motivated by the union and elevated social status, he constructed the corner façade opening out onto the Plaza de Don Gome. It was designed to impress and highlight the status and wealth of its noble occupants. Some plants were chosen to maintain their greenery throughout the year, while others flowered in different seasons.

A date palm stands at its center, surrounded by an arcade of 16 Tuscan columns supporting a two-story structure, whose window frames are painted in the palace’s signature color, Viana blue. Its trapezoidal shape (think of a triangle with the top shaved off) is a reflection of the plot of land available at the time.

A tour of Viana starts off with a bang, with the large, dramatic Reception Courtyard.

Back in the day, the lord would have his carriage in the stables and enter under one of the arches, while horses would drink water from a Visigothic baptismal font used as a trough. The corner, where two rows of columned arches meet, was where the carriages came and went.

Main plants: plumbago, date palm, Lady Banks’ roses, bush lilies, night blooming jasmine and bougainvillea. 

Walls lined with potted geraniums are a common sight in Córdoba, and the Courtyard of the Cats was no exception.

Courtyard of the Cats

The adjoining courtyard belonged to the Puentezuela de Tres Caños houses, which were purchased in 1545 by Gómez de Figueroa y Córdoba, the 1st Lord of Villaseca. In keeping with medieval tradition, they were cut off from the rest of the palace and used as rental properties. Families that once lived in these homes used the stone troughs in the courtyard gallery for laundry and drew water from the well.

This courtyard once belonged to the Puentezuela de Tres Caños houses and served as rental properties until the second half of the 18th century.

In the second half of the 1700s, it was integrated into the palace and used as offices for the palace’s administrators. But, OK, where are the cats?! It might be a disambiguation of uñas de gato, or cats claws, a leafy vine with sharp three-pronged tendrils resembling a cat’s claws that help it climb and flourish in the courtyard. 

Then again, it’s easy to imagine it was a favorite spot for kitties looking for food scraps after the Viana family took ownership of the palace in 1873 and installed kitchens in the adjoining buildings. 

Main plants: pink trumpet vines, ivy geraniums, geraniums, carnations, marguerites and purple carpet creeping thyme

The Courtyard of the Orange Trees is filled with centuries-old orange trees.

Courtyard of the Orange Trees

Before the Reception Courtyard was built, this was the entrance to the palace in the 15th century. 

Inspired by Muslim orchard gardens, this courtyard is filled with centuries-old orange trees, surrounded by rounded hedges. These were private spaces where one could sit and think, perhaps pondering the meaning of life. They were designed to mimic desert oases, with water being a prominent feature, referred to in the Quran as “divine mercy” — not surprising considering the arid nature of much of the Islamic world.

The patio was inspired by traditional Muslim orchard gardens.

If you close your eyes and focus on your senses, you might smell the delicate scent of orange blossoms or heliotrope followed by the gentle sound of gurgling water. Remember the original purpose of such an intimate, tranquil space: introspection, communion with the divine and contemplation of nature.

How dapper! The last marquis of Viana would pick a flower from the courtyard every day to put in his jacket’s buttonhole.

But I don’t recommend following the tradition of the last marquis of Viana who lived here. Every morning he’d come to the Courtyard of the Orange Trees to pick a heliotrope flower for the buttonhole of his jacket — I’m pretty sure that picking the flowers is now discouraged.

Main plants: bitter orange trees, white water lilies, calla lilies, Chinese wisteria, pig squeak and plumbago. 

The Marchioness of Viana had these tiered steps built to display her pots of cineraria during the passing of the Virgin of Anguish on Holy Thursday.

Courtyard of the Bars

Courtyards are typically private spaces hidden from the casual passerby, but the Patio de las Rejas, or Courtyard of the Bars, breaks with that tradition. Created by the 3rd Lord of Villaseca, Gómez de Figueroa de Córdoba, it features three Mannerist-style openings with wrought iron railings. These “bars” gave the courtyard its name and offered the public a view of the home’s beauty from Rejas de Don Gome Street. If this seems like a means for nobility to flaunt their status and wealth, you're right. 

Cordoban courtyard gardens liberally use potted plants for decoration, something we hadn’t seen anywhere else.

To ensure greenery throughout the year (important since this courtyard was on public display), the gardeners put citrus trees on trellises along the walls, training them to grow vertically. Tiered steps were built following orders from Sofía Amelia de Lancaster y Bleck (1904-1982), 3rd Marchioness of Viana to display her pots of cineraria during the passing of the Virgen de las Angustias (Virgin of Anguish) on Holy Thursday. 

Additionally, she chose to have her bedroom window face the courtyard from the second floor, ensuring that she’d have the best view of the courtyard.

Main plants: citrus trees, geraniums, cineraria, centaura and calla lilies. 

That’s Madama — the water nymph who gave the courtyard its name.

Madama Courtyard 

Created as part of the renovations that took place during the 18th century, the Patio de la Madama was designed to be admired from inside the palace. Cypress trees frame the fountain at its center, which features a naiad, or water nymph, pouring water from a jug, much like the star sign Aquarius. Calla lilies sprout from pots submerged in the basin. 

The naiad, the madama of the courtyard’s name, gazes toward the windows of the Admiral’s Bedroom (so called because the last Marquis of Viana, who served as an Admiral of the Navy, used it as a guest room when his military buddies came to stay). The Neoclassical style of this intimate courtyard is enhanced by the wrought iron balcony and the Viana blue windows and doors.

If you visit during the summer, jasmine will be in full bloom, covering one of the walls and filling the air with its heady fragrance.

Main plants: mandarins, sweet violets, heartsease, bougainvillea, velvet groundsel and jasmine. 

The large garden at Viana was inspired by those in France. It’s composed of symmetrical, meticulously trimmed hedges designs.

The Garden

In an effort to keep up with the Joneses, or at least the rest of the nobility, the 7th Marquis of Villaseca, Diego Rafael Cabrera (1767-1816), added a French-inspired garden to the palace. The marquis purchased the homes of his neighbors, the counts of Torres Cabrera, and subsequently demolished them to create this expansive green space, covering over 13,000 square feet or 1,200 square meters. The garden includes some of the oldest botanical specimens at Viana, such as the towering white oak that stands over 82 feet (25 meters) high, believed to be about four centuries old.

The grotesque-style gazebo on one side of the garden struck us as a bit ominous.

Well-manicured box hedges form geometric shapes that divide the garden, with a circular pathway surrounding the central fountain. To the far right as you enter the garden is a peculiar structure covered in ivy. We saw other visitors crouching inside it, and I wouldn’t argue with its designation as a “grotesque-style” gazebo.

Main plants: citrus trees, white oaks, Delavay’s magnolias, oleanders, pomegranates, roses, velvet groundsel and German irises. 

Traditional Islamic gardens had pools to aerate and oxygenate the water.

Courtyard of the Pool

At the back of the garden is the Patio de la Alberca, or Courtyard of the Pool, a service area where gardeners work their magic behind the scenes. A greenhouse from the 1960s stands where, in the past, stuffed deer heads once hung — relics from hunts with King Alfonso XIII.

The pool is a more recent addition, transferred to its current location from the nearby Courtyard of the Well in the 1980s. Pools have essential roles in Arabic gardens, aside from offering picturesque reflections: Sunlight aerates and oxygenates the water, which, at Viana comes from the well, before it’s used in irrigation.

Main plants: citrus trees, centaurea, geraniums, carnations, white lantana and corals

The well at Viana connects to an underground stream. It supplies all the water at the palace, nourishing the numerous plants and feeding its fountains.

Courtyard of the Well

An additional service area, the Patio del Pozo, or the Courtyard of the Well, is the water source of the complex. The ancient well, a whitewashed hexagon with brick trim and an iron arch, connects to the Colodro stream, which flows underground and supplies enough water for the entire palace, including its fountains.

The Fuente de Doña Leonor, named for one of the daughters of the 2nd Marquis of Viana. 

Old earthenware jugs used as plant pots dot the courtyard amid bougainvillea and other plants. Look for the mustachioed face jutting out from one of the palace’s walls. It’s the Fuente de Doña Leonor, named for one of the daughters of the 2nd Marquis of Viana. 

Main plants: bougainvillea, chrysanthemums, jasmine, petunias, lantanas and redflush

Plumbago has been trained to grow up the wall in the Courtyard of the Gardeners.

Courtyard of the Gardeners

Rounding out the trio of service courtyards, this one gets its name from being where the gardeners store their tools. (Originally, it was called the Courtyard of the Dogs, for, one imagines, obvious reasons.) Its most noteworthy feature is the wall that forms a vertical garden of plumbago. A window that peers into the Courtyard of the Well, bordered in pretty geometric zellij tiles. In fact, this patio has the most tilework of any at the palace — see how many you can find.

Wally on the Courtyard of the Gardeners

This courtyard reflects a tradition of the middle class: a delightful mishmash of items placed around the patio. Unable to afford statues, the average Córdoban would scatter antiques, archeological finds, furniture, ceramics, plinths and more. Look closely and you’ll spot a church lintel. 

Main plants: plumbago, centaurea, roses, petunias and geraniums 

There’s a sense of quietude when you enter the Courtyard of the Chapel. It’s meant to be a place for introspection before worshiping in the small chapel.

Courtyard of the Chapel

Repetition. Harmony. Tranquility. These are the themes of the stately Patio de la Capilla, or Courtyard of the Chapel, designed to inspire introspection among the shadows of the citrus trees. If it feels a bit solemn, that’s the point: It leads to the private chapel, so silence is encouraged.

Back when this section of the palace was still owned by the counts of Torres Cabrera, this was their main courtyard. Created in the 17th century, it was incorporated into the Palacio de Viana 200 years later.

Archeological artifacts decorate the courtyard — evidence of a fad spurred on in part by the discovery of King Tut’s tomb in Egypt.

The altar of the family chapel

Archeology gained mainstream appeal in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, spurred on by the discoveries of Pompeii and King Tut’s tomb. Placing archeological pieces around your patio came into vogue. This courtyard reflects that trend, with some museum-worthy items placed about, including marble flooring and small statues from Ancient Rome, as well as pieces of columns. 

Main plants: citrus trees, bush lilies, primrose and mind-your-own-business

A beautiful blue and yellow zellij tiled fountain is the centerpiece of the Courtyard of the Archive.

Courtyard of the Archive

Built by the 6th Marchioness of Villaseca in the 1700s, this courtyard is an example of Cordoban Baroque (not the gilded excess found in Baroque churches you might be thinking of). The Baroque aspect is more about a line of vision leading into the Courtyard of the Bars.

This is actually one of the more minimal patios, with hedges along the edges and a blue and yellow tiled fountain in the center. The idea is not to compete with the whitewashed walls of the home and the iconic doors and windows in Viana blue. 

The archives are on the second floor, containing over 300,000 documents.

The second floor is where the palace’s archives are kept, giving the courtyard its name. Over 300,000 documents, dating back to the 12th century, are stored there.

Main plants: mandarins, sweet violets, bush lilies, calla lilies, ivy geraniums and night blooming jasmine

The gorgeous Courtyard of the Columns was created as an event space.

Courtyard of the Columns

The largest and newest of the complex, the Patio de las Columnas was added in the 1980s as a space to host events — everything from poetry readings to theatrical performances, from awards ceremonies to art exhibitions.

Duke dances gaily with the Romany cutout.

Wally strikes a pose with a sassy niño.

Sunlight illuminates the two-tone cobblestone patterns covering the ground, and a long, narrow pool with a chevron-patterned bottom anchors the center of the courtyard. On the left, 11 columns are linked by arches, while the tower of the Church of San Agustín rises just beyond the façade of a house supported by four columns. 

Main plants: jasmine, centaurea, bougainvillea and geraniums 

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Note: Much of this information comes from Courtyards of Viana, a visual guide you can purchase in the gift shop.

There are a couple of rooms you can peer into or wander through at the palace, to see the furnishings of the noble families who lived here.

A Glimpse Into the Lives of Nobility

Throughout our visit, we saw interior rooms filled with gorgeous furniture, objects and works of art, amassed over the five centuries it was inhabited by nobility.

This whimsical Baroque clock was one of the more distinctive pieces we saw at the Palacio de Viana.

The house has been open to the public since 1980. Whether you love gardens, architecture or both, the Palacio de Viana, rooted in local history and filled with flowers, is a must-see for all who visit Córdoba. –Wally

Palacio de Viana

Plaza de don Gome, 2
14001 Córdoba
Spain

The Mezquita: Córdoba’s Mesmerizing Mosque-Cathedral Hybrid

The Great Mosque of Córdoba, a UNESCO World Heritage site in Andalusia, endures as a monument to Spain’s cross-cultural harmony. 

Ancient Rome, Islamic Spain and Catholicism all come together in the breathtaking Mezquita in Córdoba.

It’s all about those arches. They seem to multiply into infinity, creating a seeming mirror maze of red and white latticework. It’s one of the iconic images that make Córdoba a must-visit stop on any trip to the south of Spain. 

The Mezquita in Córdoba is the perfect symbol of what Duke and I love about Andalusia. You have Roman influences, Islamic stylings and a Roman Catholic overlay. It’s a magical part of the world, where these three cultures blend together into architecture that can’t be found anywhere else but southern Spain. 

Case in point: Córdoba’s Great Mosque, known as the Mezquita, perpetually rising from its ashes like a phoenix over 10 centuries through a fascinating interplay of Roman, Islamic and Christian construction. 

“King Carlos I lamented his decision to allow the construction of the cathedral, saying, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.”

That’s a bit harsh.”

Parts of the massive structure’s exterior retain their Islamic architecture.

Abd ar-Rahman and the Start of the Mezquita

To understand Córdoba and the history of this amazing structure, we must travel to the Middle East and meet Abd ar-Rahman I, a member of the Umayyad dynasty in Damascus, Syria. Things aren’t going so well for the prince. His family was massacred by the Abbasids, rivals for Islamic rule, and Abd ar-Rahman fled, hiding out in the farthest corner of the Muslim world. That is, the south of Spain. 

He ended up in Córdoba. After wresting control of the city from the Visigoths, Abd ar-Rahman began eyeing the church of San Vicente, the largest in town. Not surprisingly, it had been been built upon the ruins of a Roman temple (you’ll notice a trend). Abd ar-Rahman purchased half of the church from the Christians to start, before eventually buying the rest. 

Then, in 786 CE, he tore down the church to construct his most important project: a massive cathedral mosque. 

The History of the Mezquita

The designers ran with those mesmerizing horseshoe arches, a style borrowed from the Visigoths, placing them atop recycled columns from the original Roman ruins. The distinctive red and white is a result of alternating brick and stone. The repetition of the arches was an attempt to evoke the infinite nature of Allah. I’d say they succeeded. 

“The aesthetics of the new Cordoban mosque, to which Muslims from far and wide throughout history would forever write odes, was typically Anadusian from the start: part adaptation of local, vernacular forms and part homage to Umayyad Syria, forever the source of hereditary legitimacy,” María Rosa Menocal writes in The Ornament of the World. 

“The Cordoba mosque continued to be built, and added to, for the next 200 years, until nearly the year 1000, but the characteristic look of the place, the horseshoe arches that sit piggybacked on each other, themselves dizzyingly doubled in alternations of red and white, were established from the start,” she continues.

Abd ar-Rahman II, great-grandson of his namesake (792-852), expanded the Great Mosque and added a new mihrab, a niche where Muslims face to pray. 

Then, Abd ar-Rahman III (891-961) enlarged the patio and built a new minaret, which stood 130 feet (40 meters) tall. 

All those red and white arches, designed to mimic infinity, are truly hypnotic.

His son, Al-Hakam (915-976), continued his father’s work — in fact, he’s responsible for the most impressive renovation of the space. He had new columns built, alternating pink and blue marble. Domes were added to let in light, while painted wood beams decorated the ceiling. The 11 naves were extended, and a larger qibla wall built (this is supposed to be the cue to facing Mecca, but more on that later). Oh, and there was a secret passage for the caliph to enter the mosque from his adjoining palace. 

Gorgeously painted wooden ceiling beams

At the end of the 10th century, Córdoba had become a bustling city. To accommodate the growing population, Almanzor (938-1002) made the courtyard bigger and added eight naves. These are the most austere of the bunch. Ultimately, the Mezquita could hold 40,000 worshippers. It was the largest mosque in the world at the time. 

It wasn’t just used for prayer, though; it was the center of Cordoban life. Judges made rulings near the mihrab. Teachers taught children under the arches. And traveling pilgrims were allowed to sleep there. 

Religious Reversal: From Mosque to Cathedral

In 1236, King Ferdinand III conquered Córdoba, returning the city to Christian rule. The mosque transitioned to the cathedral of Santa María, even as many Islamic elements endured. The Main Chapel is located under the skylight. 

King Henry II built the Royal Chapel to provide tombs for Castilian monarchs. This was done in the Mudéjar style, a delightful blend of Gothic and Islamic, using Muslim architects and carpenters. 

An area with pointed arches was built to give light and height for the choir as well as the church bigwigs. 

The structure remained largely the same until 1528, when King Carlos I gave permission to tear out the center of the mosque to build a proper cathedral, much to the dismay of many in Córdoba. Turns out he ended up agreeing with them. When the king visited, he lamented his decision, saying something along the lines of, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.” 

That might be a bit too harsh. This is still one impressive place of worship.

The choir stalls were built in the Baroque style of mahogany wood from Cuba. As in many Catholic churches, naves line the walls, containing small chapels. 

(FYI: Much of this history comes from a kid’s book we bought in town: La Mezquita de Córdoba by Manuel González Mestre, with fun illustrations by Jacobo Muñiz López.)

The Mihrab: Where Intricate Beauty Meets Spiritual Significance

While wandering the Mezquita, look for the mihrab. Among the monument’s ornate riches, none capture the cross-cultural transformation quite like the exquisite mihrab, located along the back wall on the right side. It’s considered the most sacred part of a mosque. 

Strangely enough, though, this qibla doesn’t actually indicate Mecca. Instead, it faces south. One theory is that it was a reference to the direction where Mecca would be from Abd ar-Rahman’s hometown of Damascus. Then again, it’s also thought that the streetscape didn’t allow for the qibla to face east as it should have, and instead was chosen to align with the Guadalquivir River.

When Córdoba was conquered by the Christians, they not only repurposed the mosque, they also recognized the mihrab’s beauty and spiritual importance — and actually preserved it! It’s a surprising moment where two faiths coexist within the same sacred space.

Intricate mosaics, geometric patterns and calligraphy intertwine to create a tapestry of colors and shapes that leaves visitors in awe. 

The Patio de los Naranjos: An Oasis of Tranquility

Chances are you’ll begin your exploration of the Mezquita in the Patio de los Naranjos, the Courtyard of the Orange Trees. For one thing, it’s where you line up to buy tickets. 

This tranquil oasis, with its fragrant blossoms and centuries of history, offers a contrast to the architectural wonders inside. And it’s not just orange trees — there are also olive trees, palms and cypresses. 

In its long history, this courtyard been a place for reflection, prayer and community gatherings. And there was a section where Muslims would perform their ablutions, or ritual cleansings, before entering the mosque. 

Visiting the Mezquita

Recognizing the Mezquita’s cultural and historical importance, UNESCO designated it a World Heritage Site in 1984. This status is a testament to the ongoing efforts to protect and preserve the architectural marvel, ensuring that future generations can continue to be inspired by its grandeur.

Pro tip: The early bird gets the arch. 

We went early in the morning to see the Mezquita before mass was held. It’s free, so you don’t need to bother with tickets. (If you don’t go at this time, be sure to get your tickets as soon as possible. They cost 13 euros. I think it’s a good idea to book a day in advance if you have the time, but most travel sites say you don’t need to worry about it selling out. Call me paranoid.)

We figured the pre-mass time was a good way to escape the massive tour groups that would invade the space later in the day. To do so, you don’t go through the Patio de los Naranjos as you normally would. You enter through the Puerta de Santa Catalina. The one downside is that you don’t have a lot of time to explore. Get there right at 8:30, cuz security guards will kick you out around 9:20 so mass can begin. 

This trick is considered the worst-kept secret in Córdoba, so keep in mind that word has gotten out. But it’s still supposed to be better than most other times. If you can’t make it early, or want more time, try booking the end of the day.

More Metamorphoses: Temple to Church to Mosque to Cathedral 

Like the ceaselessly repurposed structures within its walls, the Mezquita represents the fluid nature of Spain’s cultural and religious history. As both mosque and church, this house of worship symbolizes Andalusia’s legacy as a place where Ancient Rome, Islam and Catholicism converge. For over 10 centuries, the awe-inspiring Mezquita has shifted shapes and uses but has endured. That’s typical of this wondrous part of Spain. –Wally

Why Vitellius, the Little-Known Roman Emperor, Haunts Artistic Masterpieces

The legendary glutton pops up in numerous works of art throughout the centuries. Renowned classicist Mary Beard unravels the mysteries behind Vitellius’ ubiquitous appearances in artworks and sheds light on the significance of his portrayal. 

Most people nowadays aren’t familiar with Emperor Vitellius — but he was once well known as a depraved glutton.

Chances are you’ve never heard of Emperor Vitellius — he ruled the Roman Empire for just eight months in 69 CE during the civil wars that followed the overthrow of Nero. 

But despite his brief reign, Vitellius left a lasting impression — though not necessarily a positive one. Of course, that’s nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to Roman emperors. 

Like many of his cohorts, Vitellius was known for his vices, particularly his gluttony. His signature dish, the Shield of the Goddess Minerva, was a concoction that included livers of pipefish, peacock brains, flamingo tongues and lamprey innards. Umm, I’ll pass, thanks. 

Not surprisingly, the adjective “Vitellian” was once commonly used to describe something that was over-the-top and outlandish.

In addition to his gluttony, Vitellius was reputed to be a sadist, quoted as having said, “The stench of a dead enemy is wonderful. The stench of a dead fellow citizen is even better.” 

Mary Beard, a famous classicist, and author of the new book Emperor of Rome: Ruling the Ancient Roman World

And “in his spare time, he was a sexual pervert,” quipped Mary Beard, one of the most renowned classics scholars and author of the book SPQR, during a lecture at the Art Institute of Chicago. 

Beard didn’t get into it, but let’s just say Tiberius gave Vitellius the nickname Tight Ass — and it had nothing to do with being stingy. 

The Feast in the House of Levi by Paul Veronese, 1573

The painting has not one but two figures modeled after Emperor Vitellius!

Vitellius: The Where’s Waldo of the Ancient World

Despite his lackluster reputation, Vitellius’ image has been copied, reinvented and reincorporated into Western art for centuries. Beard explored the significance of this often-overlooked figure and why he continues to pop up in art even today.

Take, for example, Paul Veronese’s painting The Feast in the House of Levi from 1573. Painted in Venice for a religious order, it was originally intended to depict the Last Supper. But when the Inquisition objected to this representation because it included animals, a jester, Germans and a server with a bloody face, Veronese changed its name to another feast from the Bible.

Beard pointed out a figure in the painting who’s gazing across at Jesus, utterly transfixed. It’s none other than Vitellius. So what’s he doing in there? 

It’s revealing a major coup for Christ. “Here, Jesus is converting one of the most despicable, immoral Roman emperors ever,” she explained. 

But, strangely enough, that’s not the only Vitellius in the artwork. His face also shows up as a server. “This is a clever spin on Vitellius’ gluttony because here we see one of Rome’s biggest overconsumers being turned into a server himself,” Beard said. 

If you want to show depravity, as Thomas Couture did in his 1847 work The Romans in Their Decadence, you need look no further than Emperor Vitellius, whose face can be found below the topless woman on the left.

In Thomas Couture’s painting The Romans in Their Decadence (nicknamed The Orgy) from 1847, Vitellius creeps up again. He’s shown in the midst of a pile of drunken revelers, so comatose he doesn’t even notice the naked woman near him.

An American magazine declared this work “the greatest sermon in paint ever rendered,” Beard told us. It was even suggested that a reproduction of it should be displayed prominently in every school in the United States — naked woman and all.

The canvas is filled with sprawling, drunken revelers in various states of undress. While it’s showing a graphic depiction of Ancient Rome’s moral decline, there was also a contemporary message to it: People viewed it as an attack on the disparities of wealth in France at the time and the blatant immorality of the bourgeoisie.

Vitellius Dragged Through the Streets of Rome by Georges Rochegrosse, 1883

The emperor ruled only briefly, and met a gruesome end — beaten, impaled on a hook and thrown into the Tiber River.

“If you knew what happened to Vitellius at the very end, when he’d lost power — dragged through the streets, tortured, beaten to death, impaled on a hook and thrown into the Tiber — if you knew that, I think you’d see in this figure a strong hint that this scene of debauchery and the modern lifestyle it evoked was doomed,” Beard said. “A very nasty punishment was around the corner.”

This painting, by Jean-Léon Gérôme, was once known as Hail, Caesar! We Who Are About to Die Salute You — until it was spotted that the emperor was actually Vitellius.

And there’s Jean-Léon Gérôme’s 19th century painting of the gladiatorial games — a representation that’s said to have inspired director Ridley Scott’s Gladiator. It’s a painting known as Hail, Caesar! We Who Are About to Die Salute You. But if you zoom in on the emperor, it’s — sure enough — none other than Vitellius. There’s no doubt; it’s even got his name painted below him. 

The title changed to Gladiators Before Vitellius. “Now, learned pedants, of which I know there are some in the audience, may have spotted a historical problem here,” Beard said, “which is this is clearly in the Coliseum, but the Coliseum wasn’t yet built by the reign of Vitellius.”

The legendary Grimani Vitellius, which pops up in numerous paintings, has a shocking secret.

Busted! The Grimani Vitellius

So why does Vitellius keep showing up in artworks? 

For the most part, we can thank a bust that’s become known as the Grimani Vitellius.  

This famous ancient image of Vitellius was excavated in Rome in the early 16th century under the direction of Cardinal Domenico Grimani and was bequeathed by him to the city of Venice upon his death in 1523.

“Now, I am by no means the first to spot how ubiquitous the Grimani Vitellius is,” Beard continued. But what was the significance? “Why copy this image of Vitellius? What extra does it bring to your painting if you include him? What ideological or moral register is at work?”

The Grimani Vitellius bust became the perfect symbol of an amoral glutton — which is why it has been copied hundreds of times from the 15th century on.

Boy Drawing Before the Bust of a Roman Emperor by Michael Sweerts, circa 1660

The bust itself even appears in paintings, such as Boy Drawing Before the Bust of a Roman Emperor by Michael Sweerts, from the mid-1600s.

“You can say this is just a convenient visual source to copy,” Beard said. “But I think you miss a lot if you don’t also think `Vitellius.’ When people use recognizable faces in paintings, they usually do it for a reason. And they expect you to recognize it.”

There could be a darker intent in this work, Beard suggested. “Anyone who knew anything would surely have said, Why on Earth did they put this little innocent lad to draw that sexually perverted monster — even if he is the acme of the craft of sculpture. And I can’t help thinking … there are bigger questions about the potentially corrupting force of art.”

But that fat fuck is having the last laugh. The Grimani Vitellius isn’t even a portrait of Vitellius! Technical details, such as the way the eyes have been drilled, make it clear that it dates from the 2nd century and cannot possibly be Vitellius. 

The bust, also known as the Pseudo-Vitellius, actually depicts an unknown Roman probably from the 120s or 130s CE who, by coincidence, was unfortunate enough to look very much like the coin portrait of the emperor. 

A gold coin depicting Vitellius. The emperor’s depiction is what led to the mislabeling of the Pseudo-Vitellius bust.

Emperor Vitellius: The Art World’s Fascination With an Infamous Ruler

It’s fascinating to think that this bust, which was not even of Vitellius, spread like wildfire and has had such a lasting impact in art. 

So the next time you’re wandering through an art gallery or museum, keep an eye out for Vitellius. Thanks to Beard, I predict he’ll have a comeback. –Wally

3 Chicago Muralists Share Their Secrets

How is a mural made? That was the idea behind a recent exhibit at the Chicago Cultural Center. We did a Q&A with each of the featured artists: Cecilia Beaven, Miguel A. Del Real and Anna Murphy. 

Duke and I have always appreciated murals, but didn’t know a whole lot about what went into their creation. Are they gridded out? Are they done freehand? Do they use spray paint? Or are all these things, as I imagine, dependent upon the artist?

That’s why it was so cool to visit the Chicago Cultural Center and see Exquisite Canvas: Mural Takeover, an onsite installation sponsored by the Department of Cultural Affairs and featuring the talent of three local artists: Cecilia Beaven, Miguel A. Del Real and Anna Murphy. The experiential exhibit was held on the first floor galleries and invited visitors to meet the artists and watch their progress as they completed their works. (The exhibit ran from June 10, 2023 and closed on September 3).

Part of the idea behind Exquisite Canvas at the Chicago Cultural Center was to show the artists’ process of creating their murals.

Pro tip: In our opinion, you have a better chance of seeing an impressive art exhibit at the Cultural Center, which is free, versus the often disappointing and even laughable works displayed at the Museum of Contemporary Art.

The first room of the exhibit had a brightly colored geometric mural titled Perspectiva Perpetua by Miguel, who has a tattoo and calligraphy background. It depicted a man in the middle, staring intently ahead, with an Aztec jaguar on one side and a woman in profile with her eyes closed and her head tilted upwards on other other. Miguel was working on his mural the day we visited. It was pretty cool to have the opportunity to chat with him briefly. 

Miguel A. Del Real working on Perspectiva Perpetua

We admired his mural as well as the other two by Cecilia and Anna. Cecilia’s piece, Moon Bloom, references tenangos, a colorful style of embroidery that originated in the Tenango de Doria municipality in the Mexican state of Hidalgo.

Moon Bloom by Cecilia Beaven

Anna’s concept, Awakening, featured a resting tiger,  symbolizing the inner strength in each of us. She’s known for her photorealistic style and use of blue and gold paint.

Awakening by Anna Murphy

Seeing Miguel at work gave us a glimpse into the making of a mural, but we still had a lot of questions. So we decided to reach out to the artists to learn more. 

Fortunately, all three took the time to answer our questions, and their Q&As provided a fascinating glimpse into their creative process. –Wally

Cecilia Beaven

How did you get into art?

I remember drawing since I remember being myself. Creating images has always been an activity that fascinates me and it’s my favorite form of communication or expression. I started taking art classes when I was a kid, and I started doing art more professionally right after highschool when I went to art college.

How do you get your ideas for murals? What subjects do you cover?

I explore mythology through a very playful lens that allows for experimentation and speculation. I draw from Aztec and other Mesoamerican stories and combine their archetypal elements with fiction in a seamless way. I also include a self-representative character that inhabits these narratives and allows for reflection on my place in the making of culture and participation in it.

Which character is that?

The character that represents me is the woman figure with a big nose and short hair that you can see in a lot of my pieces.

Are they entirely planned out in advance?

They usually are. I do lots of sketches, color tests, and planning ahead of time, so when I’m on site creating a mural I know what steps to follow. There are a few decisions that get modified once I’m in front of the actual wall, but not many.

Do you draw them out on the wall?

Yes. The sketching technique depends on the project, resources available, and time limitations. Sometimes I work traditionally and follow a grid, sometimes I project my sketch, and sometimes I just freehand recreate my sketch.

Tell us more about your technique and the process of creating your murals.

I create a loose sketch on a sketchbook using non-photo blue pencil. Once I like where it's going, I ink it. Then I scan my drawing and get rid of the blue. I use photoshop to do color tests and once I’m happy with the color palette, I print it. I then mix paints that match my tones. 

On the mural site, I recreate my sketch on the wall (using a grid, freehand, or with a projector, depending on the project) and then start to apply my colors from the background to the foreground.

How long does it typically take to create a mural?

The time depends on the size of the wall and how detailed it is. But I work pretty fast, so I’ve completed small murals in one day and the largest ones in two or three weeks. 

How would you describe your style?

Playful, cartoony, absurd, mythological, self-reflective, bold.

What’s your favorite part about creating a mural?

I love using my whole body to create an image, to see something as big as me, or bigger, take shape as I move my body. I also love being on ladders, scaffoldings, and lifts. And I enjoy the mindset that creating a mural puts me in, I feel calm and focused.

What is your least favorite part?

Painting the lower part of the walls that require bending, kneeling or even lying down on the floor.

What message do you want people to get from your murals?

Ideally, I want people to experience happiness and a sense of hope.

ceciliabeaven.com

Instagram: @samuraiceci

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Miguel A. Del Real

How did you get into art?

It wasn’t until second or third grade. I was trying to replicate the Ninja Turtles, and I think that’s what really got me into drawing. And then around seventh or eighth grade and throughout high school, I got into doing graffiti letters. 

I stopped for a little bit when I went to Northern Illinois University, but then I came back into the city and started hanging out with old friends. And I started getting back into the arts, like with graffiti murals. 

I would say that’s what helped develop me as an artist, those years doing experimental work — that’s what led me to be taken a little bit more seriously as a professional artist. 

How do you get your ideas for murals? What subjects do you cover?

That’s tough. You do want to be respectful to where you’re painting, And I feel like that approach is what has helped shape some of the ideas or concepts. 

These past couple years, I’ve been experimenting more with the sense of consciousness. I don’t want to say spirituality or anything like that. But it’s just been more like depicting dreams, combining some abstract elements with figurative elements, patterns, heavy line work. 

Are they entirely planned out in advance?

I like to leave some breathing room. So I would say, when it’s a job that really requires that they’re more hands-on, they want everything planned out.

This particular one that the cultural center, they allowed a lot of flexibility, where I just gave them a rough sketch. And then out of that, I was able to change it and add things as I went, inspired by the space. 

Do you draw them out on the wall? Tell us about your technique and the process of creating your murals.

I just start sketching. Like at the cultural center, I sketched it with pencil. They wanted it with a brush — I couldn’t use any aerosol. Then you start blocking out sections with paint and color, and then you move on to details. 

When it’s a mural outside, I can use spray paint and I start sketching with the paint itself, just blocking in shapes. 

How long does it typically take to create a mural?

As fast as two and a half weeks to a month and a half.

How would you describe your style?

With my background in graffiti lettering, I use the chisel qualities of a brush, from thick to thin, combined with sacred geometry with shapes like circles, squares, triangles. 

What’s your favorite part about creating a mural?

It’s definitely the painting. Once you have the sketch done, the coloring of it — even though that’s where I struggle the most, where I go back and forth with colors. This is when it really starts coming to life. 

What is your least favorite part?

The sketching, because everything needs to be locked in precisely. So if something looks wrong, then that throws off the whole mural — everything needs to be mathematically divided. 

What message do you want people to get from your murals?

The common theme that I have, regardless of the different institutions and corporations that I’ve painted for, it’s always the message of transformation, evolving. Man fusing with spirit or nature.

delrealink.com

Instagram: @delrealink

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Anna Murphy

How did you get into art?

I received a BFA in painting from the University of Louisville in 2011. After many years creating fine art oil paintings on canvas, I painted my first mural in 2018, and fell in love with the large scale and community aspect of public art.

How do you get your ideas for murals? What subjects do you cover?

The central themes of my work include celebrating nature’s wondrous beauty and the divine connection we share with one another, Mother Earth and the animal kingdom. My spirituality is the driving force of my life and my art.

Are they entirely planned out in advance? Do you draw them out on the wall? 

Yes, I design the layout in PhotoShop, then project a line drawing of my design onto the wall. With a small paintbrush, I paint the outline of the design onto the wall.

How would you describe your style? 

With a traditional painting background, I merge the worlds of fine art and street art by bringing an emphasis on intricate detail into my large-scale public murals.

Tell us about your technique and the process of creating your murals. 

Hand-painted with brushes, my painting style uses a process similar to watercolor, building up thin layers of washes to create depth, texture and a lifelike quality.

What’s your favorite part about creating a mural?

Knowing that it will bring joy and inspiration to those who see it, for years to come.

What is your least favorite part?

Spiders.

What message do you want people to get from your murals?

The metallic gold background reflects our own divinity and the sacredness of life. The cobalt blue, a symbol of Earth, like Heaven and Earth together, this combination portrays the connection between the human and the divine. The cherubs are also a symbol of our connection to the divine, and guardians of our pure and spiritual nature. The bees act as a symbol of a higher frequency, community and a connection to all things. The flowers and plants, a symbol of Mother Nature’s beauty, represent a paradise that can also be found within.

annapmurphy.com

Instagram: @annapmurphy

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Chicago Cultural Center 

78 East Washington Street
Chicago, Illinois
USA

Gorgeous Guanajuato: The Ultimate Day Trip From San Miguel de Allende

A one-day itinerary for travelers looking to experience the best of Guanajuato City, including the Museo de las Momias, the Teatro Juárez and the funicular to the Pipila Monument and overlook.

If you’re staying in San Miguel de Allende, you’ve gotta take a day trip to Guanajuato — and we’ve got the perfect itinerary for you.

Even if you’re not into displays of desiccated corpses, the charming and colorful capital of Guanajuato, Mexico has plenty to offer. It makes for a delightful day trip from the tourist hotspot San Miguel de Allende. 

“The sights in Guanajuato are equal parts beautiful and bizarre.”

A Brief History of Guanajuato

Originally inhabited by indigenous groups, the region was conquered by the Spanish, and the town of Guanajuato was incorporated in 1554. 

Like San Miguel, Guanajuato was an important and wealthy colonial city due to the region’s large silver deposits. It played a pivotal role in Mexico’s struggle to break the Spanish yoke. The city was the site of the first major battle of the Mexican War of Independence, which took place in 1810. Guanajuato also played a significant role in the Mexican Revolution, which began in 1910 — it was the site of the first battle (which the revolutionaries won).

Hop to it! Follow this walking tour of charming and quirky Guanajuato.

Guanajuato Day Trip Itinerary

With this tried-and-true one-day itinerary, you’ll experience the best of colorful and quirky Guanajuato, taking in the top attractions, flavors and vistas that this charming city has to offer.

Start your day at the Mummy Museum, then head to the Plaza of the Frogs before strolling along the main street of town. Here are the places we recommend stopping at, before ending with a funicular trip to overlook this incredible mountain town. With its vibrantly painted buildings and lively plazas, Guanajuato is one of Mexico’s most beautiful colonial towns.

Museo de las Momias

Looking for a bit of spook-tacular fun? The Museo de las Momias has you covered. In our estimation, this is the town’s main attraction. The macabre museum features the desiccated husks of some of the city’s former residents who couldn’t pay their burial tax, were dug up and discovered to be naturally mummified due to the arid climate. It’s a morbidly fascinating experience that’s not for the faint of heart.

LEARN MORE: The Haunting and Horrific Mummy Museum of Guanajuato

Explanada del Panteón Municipal s/n

Plaza de las Ranas

Hop on over to Plaza de la Hermandad, also known as Plaza de las Ranas (Frog Plaza). The centerpiece is a fountain created by French sculptor Gabriel Guerra and installed in 1893. It looks a bit like a swimming pool, but the stars of the show are the whimsical frog statues made of stone that decorate the open plaza. 

Why frogs? The name Guanajuato comes from the indigenous Purépecha words Quanax-Huato, which means “Place of the Frogs.” One theory is that the town took its name from a pair of colossal boulders resembling giant frogs. Seeing this as an auspicious sign, the Purépecha decided to settle here. They were a powerful empire that dominated western Mexico prior to the Spanish conquest. 

Fun fact: Guanajuato was the birthplace of Mexican muralist Diego Rivera, who referred to himself as “el Sapo-Rana,” the Frog-Toad. 

Galereña Dulces Típicos de Guanajuato

Want something sweet? Next stop: Galereña Dulces, a candy store that’s been around since 1865. They’ve got all kinds of traditional Mexican sweets — but don’t get your hopes up about mummy gummies. Much to our dismay, those don’t exist. 

The cellophane-wrapped caramel-colored confections we found are actually known locally as charamuscas. They’re a type of hard candy made from spun boiled cane sugar twisted into a mummy figure shape. Which, now that I think about it, these gnarly, crunchy versions are actually more fitting. 

Avenida Benito Juárez 188

Empanadas MiBu

Feeling a bit peckish? Time for a snack at Empanadas MiBu. I always say: If there’s a Heaven, there will be empanadas up there. These tasty little pockets of joy come in all sorts of varieties, from savory (rajas con queso are my fave) to sweet (you can never go wrong with Nutella), and are the perfect snack to munch on while exploring the city. They’re made to order and served in paper bags, making them the perfect handheld food to eat on the go. 

Avenida Benito Juárez 65-A

Jardín Reforma

Escape the hustle and bustle of the city by taking a stroll through this serene park that’s just past Empanadas MiBu. Head through the classical arch into a tranquil oasis that’s surprisingly peaceful for being mere steps off the city’s main drag. The loudest sound you’re likely to hear here is the gurgling of the fountain in the center or the chirping of birds.

Be sure to pop into G&G Cafe, the coffeeshop in the corner of this small park, if you need a caffeine fix. 

Basilica of Our Lady of Guanajuato

Continue down Avenida Benito Juarez until it turns into De Paz. The yellow Basílica Colegiata de Nuestra Señora de Guanajuato, dedicated to the city’s patroness, Our Lady of Guanajuato, is hard to miss. The yellow edifice stands proudly on the historic Plaza de la Paz (Plaza of Peace), the main square. However, unlike most Spanish colonial cities, the plaza is not a square but a triangle, to better fit Guanajuato’s hilly geography. 

The church’s façade was designed in the Mexican Baroque style and is adorned with carvings of saints and features two bell towers and a red clay dome. The interior is just as impressive, with soaring arches, intricate gold leaf detailing and a stunning main altar that encompasses the local likeness of the Virgin Mary. 

Calle Ponciano Aguilar 7

Teatro Juárez

While you’re in the vicinity, stop by the Teatro Juárez, a majestic Neoclassical theater, built from 1872 to 1903. Bronze statues of the Greek Muses, who represent the arts and sciences, stand on the roof.

We didn’t get a chance to go inside, but it looks impressive, awash in red velvet and gold details, with a colorful ceiling motif in the Neo-Mudéjar style, a nod to the mix of Spanish and Arab design popular in the South of Spain.

The landmark hosts a wide variety of performances, from concerts and operas to plays, international movies and dance. It has served as the main venue of the Festival Internacional Cervantino since 1972. 

De Sopena 10

Funicular and El Pipila Monument 

End your stroll through town with a ride on the funicular. The station is close by the Teatro Juárez. A cable car system built in 2001 takes you up the hill to an overlook and costs 60 pesos (about $4) for a roundtrip ticket. We had to stand in line for a bit, but it was worth the wait. The ride up is pretty fun — but the view is breathtaking. I was utterly captivated by the hilly landscape and the colorful, densely clustered  patchwork of buildings that stretched out before us. I leaned against the railing and gazed out at it for a long time. It’s easy to see why the enchanting city center is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Pro tip: When facing the city below, head off to right for a less-crowded viewing platform above the basilica.

Crowds of tourists and locals gather in the shadow of the El Pipila monument, a towering 80-foot statue built in 1939 to commemorate a hero of the Mexican War of Independence.

So who exactly was this Pipila fellow? His real name was Juan José de los Reyes Martínez, who, during the siege of Guanajuato, crawled towards the Alhóndiga de Granaditas, a granary used as a fortress by Spanish troops. He had a large stone slab used to grind corn (a pipila — hence his nickname) on his back. Once he reached the door, he used the stone to break it down, allowing the rebel forces to enter and defeat the Spanish troops.

De La Constancia 17

Outside the Mummy Museum, we watched a performance of men in drag mock-fighting. The sights in Guanajuato are equal parts beautiful and bizarre.

SMA Day Trip

All told, we spent about four hours in Guanajuato. We hired a driver from San Miguel de Allende through our hotel’s concierge. The ride is an hour and a half each way. We got dropped off at the Mummy Museum and then texted our driver at the end of the day once we on our way back down on the funicular.

From truly disturbing to truly delightful, Guanajuato is a day trip not to miss. –Wally

Artistic Depictions of the Virgin Mary: The Surprising Origins of Marian Iconography

The enigmatic allure of the Virgin Mary: From divine purity to unsettling symbolism, we explore the captivating myths and enduring appeal of the original Madonna. 

The Virgin Mary takes many guises in art over the centuries, from Queen of Heaven to the Sorrowful Mother whose tears have miraculous properities.

In art, God is often portrayed as an ancient, white-bearded man in flowing robes, a benevolent figure who watches over humanity from on high. Jesus, meanwhile, is typically depicted in various key moments from his life, such as his birth, crucifixion and resurrection. He walks on water and performs other miracles and has his Last Supper. 

But the Virgin Mary is a complex and enigmatic figure who wears many guises. Often cloaked in modesty, she’s seen as a symbol of hope, love and sacrifice. She’s portrayed as the ultimate role model for Christian women, the daughter of God, the bride of her own son and a regal queen. Her story is a richly woven tapestry of myths and symbols, each thread imbued with meanings that have been interpreted in countless ways throughout history.

As we delve into the realm of religious art and symbolism, we find her as a fertility goddess known as the Black Madonna, along with a loving mother whose tears and breast milk have magical healing powers. Amid the varied representations through the centuries, one thing remains certain: Mary’s enduring appeal as a divine figure. 

Mary, Queen of Heaven by the Master of the Saint Lucy Legend, circa 1495

Maria Regina: Queen of Heaven

Mary, the paragon of purity, couldn’t be left to rot in the grave like a mere mortal. So, the early Church fathers devised a bold solution: They declared that she had been taken up to Heaven in an event known as the Assumption, where she now reigns as a celestial queen. 

Popes viewed the Virgin Mary as a powerful propaganda tool. With their ties to the Queen of Heaven, they could legitimize their authority on earth and cemented the strong tie between Mary and Catholicism, centered in Rome: “The more the papacy gained control of the city, the more veneration of the mother of the emperor in heaven, by whose right the Church ruled, increased,” explains Marina Warner in her 1976 book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary. 

The Coronation of the Virgin by Diego Velázquez, 1636

John VII was the first pope to have himself painted in prostration at the feet of the Virgin, in the basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome. 

Madonna della Clemenza icon from the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome, 8th century. It’s the first to show a pope, John VII, prostrating himself at her feet (though it’s hard to make out now).

The coronation of Mary was first depicted in the 12th century, from an apse mosaic at Santa Maria to niches of French cathedrals, and became a favorite theme of Christendom. Christ is shown crowning his mother, switching the moment of her triumph from the Incarnation (when she conceived the son of God) to the Assumption (when she was taken up to Heaven). 

Coronation of the Virgin by Fra Angelico, 1435

The imagery of a divine queen worked well to legitimize not only popes but royalty and its system of inequality as well. “For by projecting the hierarchy of the world onto heaven, that hierarchy — be it ecclesiastical or lay — appears to be ratified by divinely reflected approval; and the lessons of the Gospel about the poor inheriting the earth are wholly ignored,” Warner writes. 

“It would be difficult to concoct a greater perversion of the Sermon on the Mount [Christ’s ethical code, focusing on compassion, selflessness, etc.] than the sovereignty of Mary and its cult, which has been used over the centuries by different princes to stake out their spheres of influence in the temporal realm,” Warner continues, “to fly a flag for their ambitions like any Maoist poster or political broadcast; and equally difficult to imagine a greater distortion of Christ’s idealism than this identification of the rich and powerful with the good.”

The Coronation of the Virgin With Angels and Four Saints by Neri di Bicci, circa 1470

The Bride of Christ: Incest Is Best?

As shocking as it may seem, the Virgin Mary was, for a while, depicted as the bride of her own son, Jesus. 

How could this have come about? Warner suggests the influence of Middle Eastern mystery religions, which played up males forming unions with females. The Canaanite god Baal coupled with his sister, Anat. In Syria, the shepherd Tammuz became the lover of the sky goddess Ishtar. The Phrygian cult featured Cybele and Attis, who died castrated under a tree. And Egyptian mythology tells the tale of Osiris, the god of the dead, who was chopped into pieces and put back together by his sister-wife, Isis. 

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RELATED: A pictorial glossary of the so-called pagan gods of the Old Testament

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The nuptials of these divine beings mirrored the joining of earth and sky at the dawn of creation.

You wouldn’t marry your mother, would you — even if she was the Virgin Mary?!

“Thus marriage was the pivotal symbol on which turned the cosmology of most of the religions that pressed on Jewish society, jeopardizing its unique monotheism,” Warner writes. “It is a symptom of their struggle to maintain their distinctiveness that the Jews, while absorbing this pagan symbol, reversed the ranks of the celestial pair to make the bride God’s servant and possession, from whom he ferociously exacts absolute submission.”

From this foundation, Cyprian of Carthage, in the 3rd century, accused virgins who flirted of committing adultery against their true husband, Christ.  

And then, of course, there are nuns, whose consecration ceremony includes getting a ring that designates them as a bride of Christ. Talk about polygamy on a mass scale!

But it wasn’t really until 1153, when Bernard of Clairvaux gave multiple sermons on the Old Testament’s Song of Songs — “that most languorous and amorous of poems,” as Warner calls it. In one of these, Bernard preached, speaking of Christ and the Virgin Mary:

But surely will we not deem much happier those kisses which in blessed greeting she receives today from the mouth of him who sits on the right hand of the Father, when she ascends to the throne of glory, singing a nuptial hymn and saying: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.”

Pagan influences aside, I’m puzzled as to how this incestuous idea ever caught on among Christians.

The Virgin and Child by Dirk Bouts, circa 1465

Maria Lactans: The Milk-Squirting Mary

While Mary was exempt from Eve’s punishment of bearing children in pain, there was one biological function allowed her: breastfeeding. “From her earliest images onwards, the mother of God has been represented as nursing her child,” Warner says. 

The Virgin Mary depicted with squirting breasts?! This is one iconography I’ve got to milk for all its worth.

Where did this idea come from? “The theme of the nursing Virgin, Maria Lactans, probably originated in Egypt, where the goddess Isis had been portrayed suckling the infant Horus for over a thousand years before Christ,” Warner explains. 

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RELATED: In the New Testament, Mary wasn’t mentioned as being a virgin. Find out why early Christians insisted upon Mary being pure.

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Madonna Nursing the Child (Maria Lactans) by Erasmus Quellinus the Younger, circa 1614

Part of this symbolism derives from a mother providing much-needed nourishment: “For milk was a crucial metaphor of the gift of life,” Warner continues. “Without it, a child had little or no chance of survival before the days of baby foods, and its almost miraculous appearance seemed as providential as the conception and birth of the child itself.”

And, not surprisingly, Mary’s milk was miraculous. A favorite medieval tale, including a version in French by Gautier de Coincy, tells how a faithful monk was dying of a putrid mouth filled with ulcers. He reproached the Madonna for neglecting him, and chastened, she appears at his bedside: 

With much sweetness and much delight,
From her sweet bosom she drew forth her breast, 
That is so sweet, so soft, so beautiful,
And placed it in his mouth, 
Gently touched him all about,
And sprinkled him with her sweet milk.

As Warner writes, “Needless to say, the monk was rendered whole again.”

According to a 14th century legend, Saint Bernard prayed before a statue of Mary. It came to life, and the Virgin placed her breast in Bernard’s mouth, nursing him as she did the baby Jesus.

The Madonna’s miracle milk became a nearly ubiquitous relic in Europe. “From the thirteenth century, phials in which her milk was preserved were venerated all over Christendom in shrines that attracted pilgrims by the thousands. Walsingham, Chartres, Genoa, Rome, Venice, Avignon, Padua, Aix-en-Provence, Toulon, Paris, Naples, all possessed the precious and efficacious substance,” Warner says.

John Calvin, the church reformer, had a scathing opinion about these claims. “There is no town so small, nor convent … so mean that it does not display some of the Virgin’s milk,” he wrote in his Treatise on Relics. “There is so much that if the holy Virgin had been a cow, or a wet nurse all her life she would have been hard put to it to yield such a great quantity.”

The idea of a breastfeeding mother of God waned in the Renaissance, when high-born women found it indecent to do the job themselves and outsourced the task to wetnurses. Plus, it was deemed indecorous to depict Mary with her breast exposed with the increasing idea that a woman’s body was shameful. Mary, with the Immaculate Conception, was born without original sin and therefore avoided Eve’s curse — and by the 16th century, that included being exempt from suckling the Christ child.

Madonna in Sorrow by Juan de Juni, 1571

Mater Dolorosa: The Sorrowful Mother

The caregiving image of Mary gave way to a mother mourning her dead son, what’s known as the Mater Dolorosa. The cult began in the 11th century, reaching full fruition in the 14th century in Italy, France, England, the Netherlands and Spain. The culmination of this iconography? Michelangelo’s La Pietà.

La Pietà by Michelangelo, 1499

Again, we have Ancient Egypt, and the surrounding region’s myths, to thank for this representation. The Egyptian goddess Isis sorrowfully wandered the land, collecting the pieces of her dismembered brother-husband, Osiris. When she finds his coffin, she caresses Osiris’ face and weeps. 

And she’s not the only weeping woman of the ancient Middle East. Dumuzi, the shepherd and “true son” of Sumerian myth, was sacrificed to the underworld, tortured by demons (much like Christ later, during his Passion and descent into Hell). The goddess Inanna, the Queen of Heaven, weeps for him.

It seems likely that Christians picked up this iconography — spurred on by the horrors of the Black Death, when the bubonic plague swept the continent, wiping out one-fifth of the entire population. “It aroused penitential fever in a way never seen before, and gave the image of the Mater Dolorosa weighty contemporary significance,” Warner points out. 

Madonna in Sorrow by Titian, 1554

Once again, Mary’s bodily fluids have healing properties. “The tears she sheds are charged with the magic of her precious, incorruptible, undying body and have the power to give life and make whole,” Warner explains. 

This cult has lasted to the present day. Many of us have heard stories of statues of the Virgin that miraculously weep. 

“Contemporary prudishness has tabooed the Virgin’s milk, but her tears have still escaped the category of forbidden symbols, and are collected as one of the most efficacious and holy relics of Christendom,” Warner says. “They course down her cheeks as a symbol of the purifying sacrifice of the Cross, which washes sinners of all stain and gives them new life, just as the tears of Inanna over Dumuzi fell on the parched Sumerian soil and quickened it into flower.” 

The Virgin of Greater Pain and Transfer of Great Power

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RELATED: Learn more shocking things about the Virgin Mary!

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The Black Madonna of Monserrat

The Black Madonna: Our Lady of Montserrat

Most Western depictions of Mary present her skin as lily-white, untouched by corruption, despite the fact that she is undeniably Middle Eastern. So it’s all the more surprising to see the emergence of the Black Madonna, a dark-skinned version that became popular among the medieval Benedictine monks in Montserrat, Spain. 

The monks saw the lushness of their mountain as a mirror of Mary. As such, her icon took on aspects of a fertility goddess. 

But in a bizarre twist (or perhaps not, given that Mary was a Jew from Judea), the Virgin had dark skin, which led to her being known as the Black Madonna. In fact, she’s known locally as La Moreneta, the Little Dark One. The depiction spread to other places of worship, among them Chartres, Orléans, Rome and Poland. 

The Black Madonna of Częstochowa, Poland

“The Church often explains their blackness in allegorical terms from the Song of Songs: ‘I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem’ (Song of Solomon 1:5),” Warner writes. “[B]ut another theory about their color is even more prosaic: that the smoke of votive candles for centuries has blackened the wood or the pigment, and when artists restored the images, they repainted the robes and jewels that clothe the Madonna and Child but out of awe left their faces black.”

The shrine at Montserrat is one of the longest continuous cults of Mary, especially popular with newly married couples. Here she has dominion over marriage, sex, pregnancy and childbirth — odd for a virgin but not for a fertility goddess. 

The Black Madonna at St. Mary’s Church in Gdansk, Poland

A gruesome legend illustrates Mary’s power. A woman gives birth to a lump of dead flesh. But when she prays to Our Lady of Montserrat, it begins to move and is transformed into a beautiful baby boy. 

Madonna della Misericordia by Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470

Madonna della Misericordia: Our Lady of Mercy

In a merging of her roles as mother and queen, a new depiction of Mary emerged in Umbria, Italy at the end of the 13th century. The Virgin was given a massive cloak which she wrapped over the poor souls gathered at her feet. Towering over them and offering protection, this was the Madonna della Misericordia, Our Lady of Mercy. 

Madonna of Mercy by Sano di Pietro, circa 1440s

After the desolation of the Black Death in the late 1340s, this iconography of Mary became the most popular. Monks and laypeople alike would pray to this aspect of the Virgin, asking her to keep them safe from harm. 

The Virgin of the Caves by Francisco de Zurbarán, circa 1655

This Mary is often preternaturally large — and her son, Christ, isn’t anywhere to be found, “suggesting that her mercy, directly given, could save sinners,” Warner writes. But that cuts God and Jesus out of the equation and makes the Virgin a goddess in her own right. 

So while Our Lady of Mercy spread throughout Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries, it was officially declared heterodox (not in accordance with the accepted Catholic doctrine) and banned by the Council of Trent in the mid-1500s.

Dormition of the Virgin fresco by Frangos Katelanos, 1548

Divine Dominion Over Death 

The Virgin Mary has worn many guises over the years, from a gentle breastfeeding mother to imperial queen to tutelary goddess. 

“If travelers from another planet were to enter churches, as far flung as the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., or the Catholic cathedral in Saigon, or the rococo phantasmagoria of New World churches, and see the Virgin’s image on the altar, it would be exceedingly difficult for them to understand that she was only an intercessor and not a divinity in her own right,” Warner points out. 

There are surely many factors that have led to Mary’s enduring appeal, starting with her co-opting of ancient mythology like the Egyptian goddess Isis. Many cultures find it fitting to worship the female spirit — something glaringly missing in the often-misogynistic views of Christianity. 

Detail from Assumption of Mary by Peter Paul Rubens, circa 1617

But Warner has a theory: “For although the Virgin is a healer, a midwife, a peacemaker, the protectress of virgins, and the patroness of monks and nuns in this world; although her polymorphous myth has myriad uses and functions for the living, it is the jurisdiction over her death accorded her in popular belief that gives her such widespread supremacy.”

She could be on to something. Think of the final words of the Hail Mary, the best-loved prayer in Catholicism: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” –Wally

San Miguel de Allende’s Knockout Door Knockers

Knock, knock! Who’s there? It doesn’t matter — just keep a lookout for the Mexican town’s amazing and Instagrammable door knockers.

People go ga-ga over doors. When I was younger, I remember seeing posters of the doors of Dublin or Tuscany. And while I’m able to appreciate these elements of design, something else jumped out at me as Duke and I wandered the streets of the charming colonial town of San Miguel de Allende: nice knockers.

Door knockers, that is.

 San Miguel de Allende, or SMA, as many call it to save a few syllables, is known for its rich cultural heritage and stunning architecture — and its door knockers are no exception. These decorative pieces not only add a touch of charm to the town’s doors but also reveal the history and cultural influences of the region.

I’m obviously not the first one to note the proliferation of door knockers around town. “I love how each door knocker in San Miguel de Allende tells a story. It’s like a miniature work of art that you can appreciate every time you enter a building,” says Kevin Raub, a travel writer for Lonely Planet.

From rustic wrought-iron to ornate brass, SMA’s door knockers come in a variety of shapes and sizes, though you’ll mostly see animals (especially lions, fish and horses) and faces. 

Unlocking the Past: Exploring the Origins and Evolution of SMA’s Door Knockers

The tradition of elaborate door knockers in San Miguel de Allende has its roots in the city’s rich colonial history. During that era, many families were all about showing off their wealth. Door knockers became a popular status symbol and were often made from expensive materials like brass or wrought iron.

As the city grew and evolved, the tradition of ornate door knockers continued, but with a new focus on craftsmanship and artistry. Today, the door knockers of San Miguel de Allende are more of a reflection of the city’s artistic heritage.

So, whether you’re a fan of history or art, or just appreciate the quirky things in life, San Miguel de Allende’s door knockers are sure to catch your eye and knock your socks off. –Wally

Why Did Christ Have to Be Born of the Virgin Mary?

Virgin births weren’t unusual in pagan times — just in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Here’s how sex got tangled up with the idea of sin, and by extension, chastity became the ultimate sign of virtue. 

Nativity, Birth of Jesus by Giotto, circa 1305

Early Christians needed their savior to have been born of a woman without sin, and that included the act of fornication. Greek myths could have influenced their theology.

Mary, the mother of Christ, is held up as one of a kind among humans for getting pregnant and giving birth without ever having sex. 

But believe it or not, so-called virgin births weren’t uncommon in the pagan world. Pythagorus, Plato and Alexander the Great were all said to have been born of virgins by the power of a holy spirit. 

Alexander the Great’s mom dreamed of a lightning bolt striking her vagina — and lo and behold! She became pregnant with the future king of Macedon. In antiquity, “virgin” births weren’t all that uncommon.

“Christians, aware of the antique pantheon, are still worried by the parallel between Christ’s story and the dozens of virgin births of classical mythology,” Maria Warner wrote in her 1976 work Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary.

So how exactly does one conceive without fornication? We can turn once again to paganism. In Greek mythology, the closest parallel seems to be when Zeus turned himself into a shower of gold and impregnated Danae, who gave birth to the hero Perseus.   

Danaë and the Golden Shower by Andrea Casali, circa 1750

The Greek myth of Zeus impregnating a woman in the form of a golden rain could have inspired the form the Holy Ghost took with the Virgin Mary.

The Greek god Zeus metamorphosed into a swan to couple with Leda. Did this bird imagery inspire the Holy Ghost’s representatoin as a dove?

Then again, the Holy Ghost is often depicted as a dove, and in another encounter, Zeus, that shapeshifting, lecherous cad, adopted the form a bird as well: He became a swan to seduce (or, perhaps, rape) Leda, mother of Helen of Troy, the twins Castor and Pollux, and another daughter, Clytemnestra.

The Annunciation by Fra Angelico, 1445

The shaft of light symbolizing the Holy Ghost isn’t too different from Danae’s shower of gold. Notice the contrast of the Virgin with Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden to the left.

Connecting Sex With Sin

Of course in these cases, Zeus is copulating with the women. It’s an act of lust, and, at least for the god, one of pleasure. That’s in stark contrast to the Christian idea of Mary’s conception of Jesus: She remains a virgin, her maidenhead unbroken, and there’s no animal-like rutting. 

This was an essential part of the Christ story. The fathers of the Christian church connected sex with sin early on, taking their cue from Genesis and the Garden of Eden: Fornication becomes necessary for reproduction, and the pain of childbirth a curse that Eve, and all women to follow, must bear. 

Sex was seen as the ultimate sin. Saint Augustine wrote in City of God, in 426, that the passion aroused by lovemaking was sinful — though the holy act of propagation was not. In a similar vein, he added, “We ought not to condemn marriage because of the evil of lust, nor must we praise lust because of the good of marriage.”

“[I]n this battle between the flesh and the spirit, the female sex was firmly placed on the side of the flesh,” Warner wrote. “For as childbirth was woman’s special function, and its pangs the special penalty decreed by God after the Fall, and as the child she bore in her womb was stained by sin from the moment of its conception, the evils of sex were particularly identified with the female. Woman was womb and womb was evil.”

The Annunciation from the Grabower Altar in St. Peter’s in Hamburg, Germany, 1383

Saint Ephrem the Syrian wrote, “Perfectly God, he entered the womb through her ear.” The idea was that by conceiving via her ear, Mary remained a virgin.

The Virgin Mary: Not Your Typical (Sinful) Woman

Mary’s impregnation is, in contrast, a serene, holy act. It’s possibly tied to the very words of the Angel Gabriel when he announces her role in bringing forth the Savior. In ancient times, some people actually believed pregnancy could come about through the ear. (It gives a whole new meaning to Iggy Pop’s lyric “Of course I’ve had it in the ear before.”)

A sixth century hymn that’s still sung today goes:

The centuries marvel therefore 
that the angel bore the seed,
the virgin conceived through her ear, 
and believing in her heart, became fruitful.

The son of God chose to be born of a virgin, according to Augustine, because it was the only way to enter the world without sin. So, “Let us love chastity above all things,” he wrote, “for it was to show that this was pleasing to Him that Christ chose the modesty of a virgin womb.”

Painful births were one of God’s punishments for Eve eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. But Jesus’ mother couldn’t be connected with anything so sinful, so she was said to be a virgin, pure and intact.

Slandering the Virgin Mary

The early Christian church had to defend itself against rumors that painted Mary in a negative light. Jews and pagans in Alexandria, for example, were saying that Jesus wasn’t conceived by God — instead, he was the bastard child of an incestuous union of Mary and her brother. 

It doesn’t seem far-fetched nowadays to question a scientific impossibility — but at the dawn of Christianity, virgin births wouldn’t have been too big of a surprise. For early Christians, anything to do with female bodily functions was dirty and sinful. So they would have insisted their savior had to have come from an inviolate womb. And, despite evidence to the contrary, Mary became a virgin. –Wally

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Shocking Revelations About the Virgin Mary in the Bible

The Gospels barely mention Mary. They get her name wrong. They show Jesus being rude to her. And they make us question if she was even a virgin.

The worship of Mary has taken over Catholicism. But there’s a surprisingly scant amount of appearances by her in the New Testament — and those that are there can be problematic.

The figure of the Virgin Mary holds a place of honor in Christian theology and devotion, where she’s revered as the mother of Jesus and an embodiment of purity and divinity. And for Catholics, she’s essentially a goddess in her own right — and some would argue, perhaps more revered than Jesus himself.

However, a closer examination of the biblical texts reveals a series of astonishing revelations that challenge commonly held beliefs about Mary. In her book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary, Marina Warner presents a compelling analysis of the Gospel accounts, shedding light on the limited mentions of Mary, discrepancies in her portrayal and even doubts about her virginity. Published in 1976, Warner’s research continues to shock almost 50 years later.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible. Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.

Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture.”

— Maria Warner, "Alone of All Her Sex"

The Annunciation by Paolo de Matteis, 1712

There’s a lot of beliefs about Mary that don’t come from the Bible. But one story that does is the Angel Gabriel telling her she’ll get pregnant by the Holy Spirit and will give birth to the Son of God.

1. Mary is hardly mentioned in the Gospels.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible,” Warner writes. “Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.” 

Warner explains that “the sum total of the Virgin’s appearances in the New Testament is startlingly small plunder on which to build the great riches of Mariology,” the part of Christian theology devoted to Mary. “Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture,” Warner continues.

The Immaculate Conception by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1769

The idea that Mary was born without sin like the rest of us can’t be found anywhere in the New Testament.

In the Bible, the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary of Nazareth. At first she’s troubled and confused, but Gabriel prophesizes Jesus’ birth, to which Mary answers (“her most precious speech in Mariology,” Warner states), “How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?” (Luke 1:34). 

Gabriel explains, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:38).

The Annunciation, from an illuminated manuscript created at Gladzor Monastery in Armenia by Toros Taronatsi in 1323

Strangely enough, though, the Gospel writers can’t even get her name right: She’s called Mariám 12 times and Maria seven times, according to Warner. 

Only Luke hits the major moments in what has become our understanding of the Virgin Mary. Even so, in Luke’s Gospel, Mary speaks a mere four times. 

In Matthew, she is silent. After the account of Jesus’ birth, Matthew mentions Mary only one more time.

Mark has a single mention of Mary (and it’s hardly flattering as you’ll see). 

John’s Gospel was written after the other three, “and it differs so considerably from them that for a time even its inclusion in the canon was at risk,” Warner writes. In it, the mother of Jesus is never mentioned by name, and it doesn’t repeat any of the incidents concerning her from the other Gospels. 

Christ Crucified With the Virgin, Saint John and Mary Magdalene by Anthony van Dyck, 1619

Jesus wanted to make sure Mary and John viewed each other as family — and then he was able to die.

She’s shown, perhaps, in the best light in John at the Crucifixion. As Jesus is dying on the cross, he sees his mother and “the disciple standing by, whom he loved” (i.e., John) and calls out, “Mother behold thy son!” and “Son behold thy mother!” John takes Mary into his home from that time on, the Gospel says. And Jesus, “knowing that all things were now accomplished,” drank vinegar and hyssop, and said, “It is finished” — “and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost” (John 19:26-30). 

The Marriage at Cana by Marten de Vos, 1597

Jesus is snippy with Mary at the event where he turns water into wine — a biblical passage that makes many a Catholic cringe.

2. Jesus is surprisingly rude to his mother.

In Mark’s recounting, Jesus has been preaching and attracting crowds, but his friends decide he has lost his mind, and his charisma is the work of the Devil (Mark 3:21). They call upon Jesus’ mother and brethren for help. Jesus asks, “Who is my mother or my brethren?” Then, looking around at those who have gathered to hear him, he declares, “Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother” (Mark 3: 34-5). “Thus Jesus rebuffs his earthly family to embrace the larger family of his spiritual fellowship,” Warner writes. 

Matthew and Luke feature the same story — but by the time Luke tells it, he’s defending Mary and the rest of the family, stating that they “could not come at him for the press” of the crowd (Luke 8:19). 

The episode is paralleled later in Luke. A woman in a crowd calls out, “Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.” Jesus states, “Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke 11:7-8). “Mary is not necessarily excluded from Jesus’ reply, but it certainly rings harshly,” Warner writes, adding, “The Catholic Church has consistently overlooked the hard-heartedness in Jesus’ words.”

John tells of the miracle at Cana, one of two conversations between Jesus and his mother (John 2:3-5):

Mother: They have no wine.

Jesus: Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.

Mother [to the servants]: Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. 

Jesus goes on to turn water into wine. “Mary, apparently rebuffed quite brutally by her son, understands that he will nevertheless perform a miracle,” Warner explains. 

The Marriage of the Virgin by Giotto, 1306

The big question is: Did Joseph and Mary have sex after she gave birth? It’s the most likely explanation for Jesus’ brothers and sisters.

3. Her very virginity is at question.

For many Christians, it’s unfathomable to imagine that the Virgin Mary, whose moniker is tied to her purity, might be the result of a poor translation. “[A]s for her virginity,” Warner writes, “the evangelists, far from asserting it, raise a number of doubts.” 

Of all the Gospels, only Matthew makes a clear statement about the virgin birth. He says that Jesus was conceived by the power of the Holy Ghost before Mary and Joseph “came together” (Matthew 7:20). 

But Matthew’s writer was using the Greek Septuagint translation of the Bible, where the Hebrew word “almah,” meaning a young girl of marriageable age, became “parthenos” in Greek — a word that carries a strong connotation of virginity.

Catholics “hold (not as an article of faith, but as a cherished and ancient belief) that Mary was virgo intacta post partum, that by special privilege of God she, who was spared sex, was preserved also through childbirth in her full bodily integrity,” Warner explains. Which, one has to imagine, means her hymen was intact. 

But Matthew’s language seems to suggest that Mary and Joseph had sex after the birth of Jesus: “Then Joseph … took unto him his wife: and knew her not till she had brought forth her first born son” (Matthew 1:24-5). Yes, that’s “knew” in the biblical sense. It’s basically saying Joseph and Mary didn’t have sex until after Jesus was born. But they did eventually do so — Mary didn’t remain a virgin. 

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple by Hans Holbein the Elder, 1501

If Mary was so pure, why did she have to undergo a period of cleansing before she could present Jesus in the temple?

Also problematic: Mary gives birth to Jesus and enters the temple only after the time for her purification has elapsed. Under Mosaic law, a woman must be cleansed of the impurity incurred at childbirth. But why would that be necessary if Mary was, miraculously, still a virgin?

A 16th century Russian icon of James the Just, one of Jesus’ siblings

And then there’s the issue of Jesus’ siblings, mentioned in Matthew, Mark and Luke. Some early thinkers of the Greek church came up with a solution that has no proof in the Bible: Joseph was a widower, and those children were from an earlier marriage. 

The Birth of Christ by Meister von Hohenfurth, circa 1350

Rethinking the Virgin Mary

Warner’s groundbreaking work Alone of All Her Sex challenges conventional beliefs surrounding the Virgin Mary, drawing attention to the limited scriptural references, Jesus’ puzzlingly brusque behavior to his mother and the ambiguity surrounding her virginity. These shocking revelations prompt a reevaluation of deeply ingrained perceptions and invite further exploration of the complex figure at the heart of the Christian and Catholic faiths. –Wally

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CLICK HERE: When Did Jesus Become God? 5 Startling Findings in the Gospels

Meet the Mojigangas: The Larger-Than-Life Puppets on the Streets of SMA

What’s a mojiganga? From their origins in the 16th century to current wedding celebrations, here’s everything you need to know about this big and bold Mexican folk tradition. 

Spend some time in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, and you’re sure to come across the giant puppets known as mojigangas. OMG, is that Frida on the right?!

On our first day wandering through the hilly cobblestone streets of San Miguel de Allende (aka SMA), Mexico, we stumbled upon a sign that read, “Mojigangas.” Being the curious adventurers that we are, we couldn’t resist the urge to investigate. We stepped off the street and saw that the metal door to the workshop of the Sanmiguelense artist Hermes Arroyo wasn’t fully closed, and decided to take a peek inside. We caught a glimpse of a few of his colorful, larger-than-life creations. 

We couldn’t help ourselves. Seeing that Hermes was talking to an assistant, we passed by his studio and walked into what we learned was the courtyard of his family home. We admired the cast of characters lined up against the walls. Catrinas — tall, female skeletons wearing fancy hats — stood shoulder to shoulder with a bride, groom and grinning devil wearing a striped shawl. 

Moments later, we were greeted by the master puppet maker himself. He was more than happy to show us around. 

“Mojigangas are very important to Mexican culture.

They are a representation of our customs and traditions, and they allow us to pass down our heritage to future generations.”

— Hermes Arroyo

When we asked to take a photo with them, he called over one of his assistants so Duke and I could both be in it with him.

Hermes regaled us with stories of his life and how he began making mojigangas (pronounced mo-hee-gon-gahz), a traditional Mexican folk art form of papier-mâché puppets with oversized noggins. He learned the art of making mojigangas from a master craftsman named Genaro Almanza, who was a coworker of his father. While apprenticing with Almanza, he became adept at working with a variety of materials, including resin, plaster, wood, fabric and paint.

Mojigangas come from a longstanding tradition of entertaining the public — and best of all, they don’t even mind being groped!

The Origin of Mojigangas  

Mojigangas are an essential component of the local culture. These towering figures are a familiar sight, bringing the streets to life with their vibrant colors and playful antics.

These puppets, also known as gigantes, or giants, have been around since the Spanish brought them to Mexico in the 16th century. In Catalan, capgrossos, or giant heads, were worn for street theater performances that provided comic relief. 

A mojiganga of Anado, the artist behind the ultra-quirky Chapel of Jimmy Ray, outside of SMA

Nowadays, the puppets reflect the country’s diverse cultural influences, with many sporting traditional indigenous dresses. The Mexican love of poking fun at death and sin is evident in the high number of skeletons and devils. And some pop culture icons have popped up as well, including Maleficent and Frida Kahlo. 

The top part of a mojiganga

The Art of Making Mojigangas

How are these quirky, supersized puppets made? First, an armature, or skeletal wire frame, is constructed in the shape of the figure. Then, using cartonería (from the Spanish word for cardboard), layers of paper and paste are affixed to the frame to create a base. After the base is dry, several more layers of paper are added, each getting progressively thinner and smoother. Once the paper layers are complete, the mojiganga is painted with vibrant colors and decorated with accessories like teeth, cloth arms and hands, clothing and other details.

Mojigangas grace the entrance to many shops in SMA.

Today, thanks to modern materials like foam and fiberglass, some mojiganga makers create even more impressive and intricate figures — some even have blinking eyes, mouths that open and pipes that smoke!

SMA has become a major wedding destination, and no celebration would be complete without a parade that includes mojigangas depicting the happy couple.

Here Come the Mojigangas: A New Wedding Tradition

Mojigangas have become a popular addition to wedding celebrations in San Miguel de Allende. Couples often customize their mojigangas to resemble themselves, complete with traditional wedding attire. The puppets then lead the wedding party through town in a parade called a callejoneada, where everyone dances and sings in celebration of the newlyweds.

If you’re thinking about incorporating mojigangas into your wedding, a customized pair of mojigangas typically costs between $500 and $1,000. It’s a memorable way to celebrate your big day. 

Hermes Arroyo graciously posed for a picture with Duke and Wally in his studio in San Miguel de Allende, and gave them a quick tour.

Hermes Arroyo: Master Mojiganga Maker

Our new friend Hermes has been making mojigangas for over 30 years. His work has been featured in exhibitions and festivals all over Mexico and the world. 

“Mojigangas are very important to Mexican culture,” he told Culture Trip. “They are a representation of our customs and traditions, and they allow us to pass down our heritage to future generations. It’s important to preserve these traditions, so that they can continue to be a part of our culture for years to come.”

Hermes’ dedication to preserving the traditions of mojiganga making has earned him a reputation as a master craftsman and a cultural ambassador for Mexico. His work has been featured in museums and galleries around the world, such as the Museum of Latin American Art in Long Beach, California and the Museo de Arte Popular in Mexico City. 

He has also inspired others to take up the art of mojiganga making by teaching workshops and sharing his knowledge and skills. 

The Day of the Dead parade that kicks off the Bond flick Spectre, complete with skeletal mojigangas, was so popular, it has become an annual tradition in CDMX!

His puppets were featured in the opening scene of the 2015 James Bond movie Spectre, for which he created dozens of mojigangas for the iconic Day of the Dead parade. He’s also appeared in the History Channel documentary series The Strongest Man in History in 2019, where he challenged four buff dudes to carry his mojigangas through the streets of San Miguel de Allende. His puppets stand between 16 to 20 feet tall and weigh over 40 pounds, or 18 kilograms. 

Some of the fun folk art for sale at Hermes’ shop, la Casa de las Mojigangas

We popped into his shop and came home with a much more manageable, smaller luchador sporting a blue mask and trunks. 

Meeting a master craftsman like Hermes is just one of the many delightful surprises that SMA has to offer. If you want to experience part of what makes San Miguel de Allende so special, head to his shop and studio and discover the magic of mojigangas. –Wally

La Casa de las Mojigangas

San Francisco 62
Zona Centro 37700
San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato 
México

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