When Stone Becomes Story

516 years ago this month, Michelangelo unveiled his commissioned work, David — one of the most recognized sculptures in the world and often celebrated as his greatest masterpiece. Even more impressive, Michelangelo was only in his twenties when he completed it. Many other iconic works would follow, including the Sistine Chapel ceiling and The Last Judgment.

Toward the end of his life, however, Michelangelo’s art seems to express something deeper than artistic triumph; in his later works, one can detect spiritual reflection on the meaning of a life and more devotion to God. While his works alone would make him immortal in human memory, his focus seemed to shift to the state of his own mortality and what lie ahead in the next life.

A Sonnet on the Wall

During a visit to Florence a few years ago, I walked through Il Museo dell’Opera del Duomo and saw inscribed on the wall a sonnet by Michelangelo:

The course of my life has brought me now
Through a stormy sea, in a frail ship,
To the common port where, landing
We account for every deed, wretched or holy.

So that finally I see
How wrong the fond illusion was
That made art my idol and my King,
Leading me to want what harmed me.

My amorous fancies, once foolish and happy
What sense have they now that I approach two deaths
The first of which I know is sure, the second threatening.

Let neither painting nor carving any longer calm
My soul turned to that divine Love
Who to embrace us opened His arms upon the cross.

This poem was written toward the end of his life. It describes a man who sees the deeds of his life–good and bad. It is the reflection of a man who had made his life’s work his idol. And then it is the reflection of a man that, as he faces the “brink of death”, wonders about his standing before God and whether that means imminent spiritual death.

Yet, it is also the reflection of a man who has been born again, whose heart turned to God, and who realized that true peace could only be realized through acceptance of the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

The Unfinished Pietà — Fracture and Healing

The room where I saw this sonnet is also where one of Michelangelo’s final sculptures stands — an unfinished pietà. This work, one of his last, was never completed. In fact, after working on it for eight years, he broke part of it out of frustration. Following his death, it was repaired and completed by others and the result is what we have today.

Michelangelo’s La Pietà Bandini depicts Mary and Nicodemus holding the crucified Christ. Yes, the same Nicodemus who Jesus taught about being born again;¹ it is believed that the image of Nicodemus in this sculpture is a self-portrait of Michelangelo himself.

The Sculptures of Our Lives

I often think about the profundity of Michelangelo’s words that imply a changed life. A life that was broken and then healed. A life made complete only by Him whose sacrifice and love Michelangelo tried to capture in this stone.

Michelangelo’s works continue to inspire and astonish. But his greatest work was himself.

Our Greatest Work

Similarly, each of our lives is the sculpture we carve–a life dedicated to our idols or one committed to discipleship. Sometimes, we chisel the rough stone that surrounds us, only to have a piece break, seemingly negating years of work. And often, it may appear to be still incomplete at the end of our life. But in the end, it less about the monuments we leave behind and more about what we have become; more about the transformation from stone into story, the transformation achieved as we become a new formation. Life is about change. Conversion.

Indeed, our greatest work will be ourselves.

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P.S. Recently, Elder Soares shared his thoughts on Michelangelo’s most famous pietà in the Vatican. Check it out:

1. see John 3:1-5