The Sistine Secrets

by Benjamin Blech

  The location of each of the sibyls has significance and helps to explain its message. Let us see where the other four are set.

  As you will recall, the four fan-shaped panels in the chapel’s corners represent the four exiles that the Jews are fated to endure, according to predictions in the book of Daniel: Egypt, Babylon, Persia, and Greece. It is for these four exiles and subsequent redemptions that, according to many interpretations, Jews drink the four ceremonial cups of wine during the Passover seder. On the ceiling, Michelangelo juxtaposed each sibyl nearest the exile it represents. The Delphic sibyl is the symbol of Greek dominance; she is next to the Judith-and-Holofernes corner, which deals with the Hanukkah story in the book of Maccabees that recalls the liberation of the Jewish people from Greek (Hellenistic) dominance. Libya, who Buonarroti (thanks to his studies of Plutarch) surely knew was really from Egypt, is next to the corner panel of Moses’s copper serpent saving the Jews who had just been redeemed from Egypt.

  Persia, naturally, is nearest to the corner dealing with the story of Esther, who saves the Jews of Persia from the genocidal Haman. Eritrea, who was really from Babylon, posed a problem to Michelangelo’s plan. The Babylonian exile was ended by Persian military conquest, not by a Jewish heroine or hero. This would have made for a confusing and not very religiously inspiring scene and would have disrupted the theme of Jewish redemption by a Jewish spiritual hero or heroine in all four corners. So, the next best spiritual symbol that the artist could choose was the liberation from the other oppressive Middle Eastern pagan nation that bordered ancient Israel—the Philistines. Thus, closest to Eritrea, the Middle Eastern sibyl, he depicts the Jewish hero David defeating Goliath, the Philistine giant.

  This leaves us with Cumaea, the symbol of Rome. In Michelangelo’s lifetime, the Jews of the West were considered still to be in Roman exile, since they were living under the domination of the Church. This is why he shows the putto making an obscene gesture at Cumaea. She is a symbol of everything that Michelangelo detested about the abuses of power, the intolerance, and the hypocrisy of the Vatican. As he described it in his poem, the Vatican of his day had distorted and betrayed both Christ and Christianity. This is why he had to be so cunning and careful about hiding his messages in the Sistine. Michelangelo had promised the pope and his advisers that his theme for the ceiling would be the redemption of the world through the Church. Instead, he masterfully inserted his personal longing for the future redemption of the world from the dominance of the Church’s corrupt leadership of his day.

  THE HEBREW PROPHETS

  Now, let’s take a close look at the seven male Hebrew prophets. The first point is why Michelangelo chose this number. By now we know that there must be many symbolic reasons for just this number, since we are dealing with an artwork designed to express secretly a multilayered way of viewing the universe, as alluded to in the Talmud and the Kabbalah. What immediately comes to mind, of course, are the seven days of creation. According to Kabbalah, not only the material universe, but also Reality itself was brought into being during these seven days. This would certainly be appropriate for Michelangelo to emphasize in his ceiling design, which he hoped would create a new universal reality of spirit. All seven of these Jewish prophets were perfectly suited for this message as they foretold a future spiritual redemption, not just for the Jews but for all humanity.

  Another key meaning to the number seven is its connection with the seven “lights” of the Holy Menorah, the golden seven-branched candelabra that was inside the Temple of Jerusalem. Even though there were already seven marble flames on top of the marble partition grill from the original fifteenth-century design of the Sistine, Michelangelo wanted to add his own version of the Menorah to this full-sized copy of the Holy Temple. It is a good thing that he did, considering that a generation after Michelangelo finished the ceiling, another pope would add an eighth marble flame to the partition, purposely ruining its correspondence to the Menorah. The prophet Zechariah envisioned the seven lights of the Holy Menorah as the “eyes of God,” looking in all directions. That is surely why Buonarroti spread out his seven prophets all over the ceiling, looking in all directions, to serve as the eyes of God witnessing what goes on in the Sistine and in the world at large. Similarly, the prophets are also reminiscent of the Midrash that identifies seven clouds of glory that protected the children of Israel while they wandered through the wilderness. Kabbalah explains that we are threatened from seven sides: east, west, north, and south, above and below—and finally from within our selves.

  Yet another explanation is that the prophets represent the Seven Middot, the seven characteristics of the seven lower s’firot, or spheres (in the singular, s’firah), on the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. These Seven Middot, in ascending order toward the Divine Unity, are:

  Malchut—“empire, kingdom.” This is the material world and the desire for material comfort and success.

  Yesod—“foundation.” This is the beginning or basis of the soul’s desire for something beyond the material world. It is the foundation of spirituality and religion, and the basic link between heaven and earth.

  Hod—“glory, splendor.” This is the ability to maintain one’s faith in the face of adversity, sadness, and defeat. This s’firah is perseverance, the capacity to accept divine will and to keep one’s word to God, no matter what.

  Netzach—“victory, eternity.” This is the other side of perseverance, to strive continually for success, whether material (through ethical means, of course) or spiritual. It is the ability, as African-American spiritual leaders put it during the struggle for civil rights in the 1960s, to “keep your eyes on the prize.”

  Tiferet—“beauty.” This is the central s’firah of the Seven Middot and of the Tree of Life. It represents balance, the unifying and harmonizing of seeming opposites.

  G’vurah—“strength, power.” This is on the same “side column” of the Tree of Life as Hod. It is the masculine, forceful side of the tree. This s’firah is also sometimes called Din, or Judgment, since G’vurah’s strength comes from setting parameters and clear boundaries. Spiritual people draw on the energy of G’vurah and Din when they make faith-based judgments and limitations, such as between right and wrong, the pure versus the impure, and the holy versus the profane.

  Chessed—“mercy, compassion, loving-kindness.” This is on the same column of the tree as Netzach—the feminine, nurturing side of the tree. Chessed, even though seemingly more passive and flexible than G’vurah, is actually stronger, since mercy and compassion can ultimately overcome mere power by going above and beyond its rigid boundaries.

  How are the seven prophets on the Sistine ceiling related to the Seven Middot? The Seven Middot are also considered to be seven spiritual “steps” to bring us ever closer to God. Moving from east to west, across the length of the ceiling, we have:

  Zechariah, whose name means “God has remembered.” His message emphasizes all the empires in the material world that sought to wipe out the Judaic faith. In each case, God remembered and redeemed the Jewish people, as depicted in all four corners of the frescoes. Thus, Zechariah represents the attribute of Malchut.

  Joel—“God is God.” His name tells us to link everything in the material world to the spiritual, to recall that behind everything perceived by our five senses, there is always God. He is Yesod, the link with our sense of spirituality.

  Isaiah—“God is my salvation.” He warned of the horrifying defeats and sufferings that the Jews would have to endure, but also encouraged them to keep the faith. In his panel, Michelangelo painted two anxious-looking putti, one of whom is pointing back in the direction of the destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple. Isaiah seems to be listening to their sad news, but he is not closing his book entirely—he is keeping his place in it, for a time in the future when he will open it again. He is in the place of Hod.

  Ezekiel—“God is my strength.” He is shown interrupted in the middle of his scroll, with one frightened putto on his left (negative) side,
and he seems to be asking advice from the angel on his right. This angel is calmly holding up his right arm of power (and incidentally showing a nice strong left bicep as well), while his right hand points up to the source of his strength to win—up toward the Almighty One. Ezekiel told the suffering Jews that, in the end, they would win back Jerusalem and build the Third Holy Temple there. He represents perseverance to stay the path until the final victory, and so is in the place of Netzach.

  Daniel—“God has judged.” Daniel was one of the most beautiful and intelligent youths taken captive by Nebuchadnezzar when he conquered ancient Israel and took much of the nation into the Babylonian exile. As described in Daniel 5:1–28, during an orgiastic banquet in the king’s palace, the pagans used holy vessels pillaged from the Temple of Solomon as mere serving dishes. God wrote on the wall over their heads “Mene Mene Tekel Ufarsin.” Daniel, the only one able to interpret this, informed the tyrant Nebuchadnezzar that Babylon has been counted and weighed in the heavenly balance and found wanting. Soon afterward, the evil regime fell and the Jewish people were reunited with their Holy Land. Daniel is an important symbol of future redemption to both Jews and Christians, so he is well suited to sit in the central position of Tiferet.

  Jeremiah—“God has exalted me” or “I have exalted God.” He was the harshest orator of all the prophets, severely chastising the corruption he found in the priesthood as well as in the national leaders. Even today, speeches that lash out harshly against the establishment are called jeremiads. Just as Jeremiah warned, God exalted himself by way of strict judgment and powerful punishment of Israel, as Babylon destroyed Jerusalem, torched the Holy Temple, and took the populace into captivity and exile. He is, naturally, in the place of G’vurah/Din.

  Jonah—“God will answer.” His very name connotes heavenly mercy, the attribute of Chessed. Jonah is given the frightening command to preach repentance to the huge, corrupt, pagan city of Nineveh. He is astonished when they immediately heed him and God shows divine compassion for them. The very last words of his book are from God, telling Jonah why it was vital to have mercy on this vast city, no matter if they were gentile or Jewish.

  There are many more layers of meaning to Jeremiah and Jonah. Since they were painted near the end of Michelangelo’s long labors on the ceiling, he filled them with the most messages—and so we will come back to them again, at the end of our private tour.

  What cannot be ignored is that just as Michelangelo had omitted the standard “Christianized” sibyls used by the Church as precursors for the coming of Christ, he also left out some far more obvious choices for Hebrew prophets. It is true that the Church interpreted some of the included prophets as major spokesmen for the validity of Jesus as the Messiah; however, if that had been the artist’s real intent in these frescoes, he undoubtedly would also have selected Micah, Ezra, Hosea, Amos, or Malachi—all more frequently quoted by the Church—in place of comparatively irrelevant choices like Jeremiah and Joel.

  Michelangelo must have been well aware of the Vatican’s tendency to reinterpret images. He had seen pagan statues slightly altered and renamed after Catholic saints. (In fact, even a century after Buonarroti, the Baroque artist Bernini ordered this done to dozens of ancient statues, in order to fill out the ranks of the 140 saints that line the top of his beautiful colonnades encircling St. Peter’s Square in the Vatican.) So, to make sure that at some future date the Church did not try to change the identities of his pagan sibyls and Jewish prophets on the ceiling, Michelangelo carefully captioned each and every one with their proper names. It is a good thing that he did, since it is through their very names and identities that his hidden messages are able to reach us today.

  The canny artist wanted to ensure that his Kabbalistic message would be rediscovered and believed, so he left one last clue for the skeptical. Having now learned the Seven Middot and their meaning, you will be able to grasp another very telling clue in a panel we previously analyzed. Recall that in the corner David panel, there is a hidden Hebrew letter gimel, formed by the outline of David and Goliath’s bodies. Gimel stands for G’vurah, the forceful, male side of the Tree of Life, always located on the left side of the tree. Looking back at the other corner panel—of Judith and Holofernes—we can see very clearly that the two bodies of Judith and her handmaid, bridged over by their arms and the basket carrying the enemy general’s head, form the distinct outline of another Hebrew letter. It is the chet, which looks like this: .

  Note that Buonarroti was careful to darken the rear hem of the handmaid’s yellow dress, so as to crop it out, thereby clarifying the form of the letter chet. Why did he want this letter to appear in the Judith corner? Chet is the letter that symbolizes Chessed, which is the nurturing, female side of the Tree of Life. It is always the right side of the tree.

  When you stand at the end of the Sistine where the public entered in Michelangelo’s day, at the papal portal, the David with the gimel is on the left side, for G’vurah. On the right side for Chessed is the chet imbedded in the Judith panel. Those who share Michelangelo’s familiarity with Hebrew letters and Kabbalistic concepts have no difficulty in perceiving how the artist took the Judaic teachings he had learned from his private tutors in the de’ Medici palace and brilliantly incorporated them into the very heart of Christendom’s most sacred chapel.

  It is no accident that these messages were placed high up on the ceiling. In fact, Michelangelo designed his multilayered project so well that the higher we go and the more hidden from casual view, the more frequent and the more daring are the veiled messages we find. Indeed, at the very top of the ceiling—the central strip that runs the length of the Sistine Temple—he saved the best for last…

  Chapter Twelve

  THE MIDDLE PATH

  Each beauty which is seen here by people of

  perception resembles more than anything else that

  celestial Source from which we all come.

  —MICHELANGELO

  WE HAVE FINALLY arrived at the core of the painting—the central strip. This is undoubtedly the most famous part of the frescoes, the section that most people have in their mind’s eye when they think of the Sistine ceiling. In the original commission given to Michelangelo by the pope and his advisers, he was supposed to have simply painted an imitation of a geometric pattern found on the ceilings of the remains of many pagan Roman palaces. The standard practice would have been for the artist to “crown” the center of the ceiling with the symbols of the pope’s sovereignty—the crossed skeleton keys and the triple tiara—along with his family crest and perhaps his name inscribed there as well. This della Rovere oak-tree crest can be seen all over the original decorations of the chapel, by order of Julius’s uncle, Pope Sixtus IV. Not only is there a large three-dimensional one directly over the papal entranceway, but hundreds of them are worked into the “fabric” of the trompe l’oeuil draperies painted over the lower walls. This was the accepted norm for almost all papal ceilings down through the centuries, not only throughout the Apostolic Palace, but also in Castel Sant’Angelo (the best known of the several papal castles) and in other palaces, villas, and churches around Italy.

  Michelangelo was neither an imitator nor a sycophant. This kind of project—following a banal standard prototype—was something he simply, by his very nature, could never do. If he had to slave on any project for several years of his life, even if it was an unwanted painting project, his pride would not allow him to do something mediocre—it had to be a project so extraordinary that only he could conceive and carry it out. This is the reason he preferred to work alone whenever possible—he always pushed himself to go above and beyond all previous boundaries, even beyond his own. So, too, with the Sistine frescoes—although from the outset the idea of a ceiling painting was distasteful to him, he could not do any less than his best. Instead of limiting himself to a cluster of pretty shapes and patterns and a stereotypical salute to his patron’s power, he decided to fill the middle of the ceiling with what he, the artist, r
egarded as the central message of God’s connection with humanity. This was the first time (and one of the only times) that a painter vetoed a pope’s concept for an artwork in the Vatican.

  As we have indicated, Michelangelo set up the seven Hebrew prophets to correspond to the Seven Middot, the lower part of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. They balance the Sistine Temple between the column of G’vurah (strength and justice) on the left side and the column of Chessed (mercy and loving-kindness) on the right side. But what about the middle column, the central trunk of the tree? That, as Professor Gershom Scholem informs us in his classic work On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism, is the Middle Path, the path of the tzaddikim, the truly righteous and holy.1 These few souls are so pious and pure that they do not require all the struggles and ups and downs of life that a regular seeker must endure on her or his spiritual path. This is also called the lightning path, since it such a direct “express lane” to enlightenment. What did Michelangelo choose to illustrate this surest and most direct path to God? What, according to him, is the real center of power in the world? For Michelangelo it was the original Torah, otherwise known as the Pentateuch or the Five Books of Moses. The Torah, composed of the five books Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, is the core both of the Jewish Bible and of the Church’s version of the Hebrew Scriptures called the Old Testament.* Interestingly enough, the five books are broken down into reading segments according to two different systems. The one known to most people, and accepted and used by all when quoting and referencing the Torah (as in this book), is an arrangement of chapters and verses. This has given rise to the expression “they quoted chapter and verse” to describe the use of precise or unequivocal language. This is the system that was developed by Catholic clergy centuries ago. The other method of segmenting the Torah is the Jewish division into par’shiyot, the weekly portions read in synagogues throughout the world every Sabbath to complete the study of the entire Torah once a year. This system is well over two thousand years old, canonized by the sages of the Talmud. The Torah par’shiyot are known and used almost exclusively by Jews today—and certainly that would have been the case in Catholic Italy five hundred years ago. However, that is exactly what Michelangelo chose to paint in his Middle Path on the ceiling—the first two Jewish Torah portions, or par’shiyot, called B’resheet (“in the beginning”) and Noach (“Noah”).