There are two things you need to know about the renowned Italian painter Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio.
The first is that he created the most powerful physical representations of Christian art. The second is that he was a murderer. This is how historian Simon Schama introduces my favorite painter in his delightful book The Power of Art:
Caravaggio epitomises a grotesque oxymoron in his personal life: a murderer painting the most breathtaking Christian art. Caravaggio transposes this jarring paradox into one of his spiritual masterpieces, The Calling of St. Matthew. The painting haunted me for days after I first saw it at the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome.
There are two things you need to know about the apostle St. Matthew. First, Matthew belonged to the priestly tribe of Levi. Mark’s gospel refers to him as “Levi son of Alphaeus” (2:14). Luke’s gospel simply calls him by the name “Levi” (5:27). Second, Matthew was a tax collector.
A member of the tribe of Levi working as a tax collector? Isn’t this a bizarre contradiction?
Here Comes the Taxman
The Roman Empire taxed the people it colonized. It had different systems for collecting taxes. In some cases, tax collection was auctioned to the highest bidder. Consequently, the tax collector did everything in his power to get his investment back and more.
Tax collectors were regarded as Jewish traitors and Roman collaborators – generally, as despicable guttersnipes. They were ostracized from Jewish society. They could squeeze blood from a stone. They extorted more money than was officially necessary and pocketed the surplus. Collecting taxes was a racket.
If a Jew became a tax collector, it was clear that he loved money more than his religion or his people. The rabbis listed “tax-collecting” alongside prostitution. No Torah-observant Jew could join this profession since it meant dealing with Gentiles and working on the Sabbath, never mind the corruption.
Matthew was a tax collector. That was bad. But his membership in the tribe of Levi made his business an abomination. The Levites were priests. They had the privilege of living on the offerings of the people. Matthew the Levi had perverted this privilege. He had stooped to the lowest form of robbing, swindling, fleecing, and ripping off God’s people.
Matthew’s Predecessors in Malachi
Oddly enough, God was saying something similar to some of Matthew’s Levitical ancestors through the prophet Malachi. The book that bears his name — the last prophetic book in the Old Testament — is prophesying against the Levitical priests who have become so corrupt that they “bring what has been taken by violence or is lame or sick” as their offering to God. “Cursed be the cheat who… sacrifices to the Lord what is blemished,” says the Lord of hosts (1:13-14).
After berating the Levitical priests for their abominations, Malachi prophesies that God will send His messenger to prepare God’s way, and “he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness” (3:3).
This is the last time the name “Levi” occurs in Old Testament prophecy. The first time the name “Levi” occurs in the New Testament is in Mark’s gospel when, as Jesus is walking, he sees “Levi, son of Alphaeus, sitting at the tax booth, and he says to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him” (2:14). The calling of Matthew Levi is, in effect, Jesus the Messiah fulfilling the prophecy of Malachi the prophet.
Caravaggio Paints Matthew’s Conversion
Jesus has two words: “Follow me.” Matthew has no words. He doesn’t waste time. What causes Matthew to respond so quickly? Perhaps he has heard the preaching of John the Baptist. Luke’s gospel tells us how “even tax collectors came to be baptized by John. They asked him, ‘Teacher, what shall we do?’ And John said to them, ‘Collect no more taxes than you are authorized to do’” (Luke 3:12-13).
In Matthew’s gospel, when Jesus is narrating the parable of the two sons, He rebukes the chief priests and the elders and tells them, “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him” (Matthew 21:31-32).
Matthew may have been one of the tax collectors who had been baptized by John the Baptist. John’s preaching and baptism had prepared him for his conversion and calling to Jesus.
And what a conversion it is! Caravaggio tells the story best in one of the most famous paintings in the history of art. Take a look at it.
Matthew is in a dark and dingy den. There’s a large window, but it is sealed and the glass is dirty, blocking all incoming light. Suddenly, a burst of light comes from the pointing hand of Christ. The hand is inspired by God’s hand in Michelangelo’s most iconic painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
The light falls directly onto Matthew’s face. He looks shocked and awed. His hand points to himself as if he is asking Jesus: “Me? Do you mean me?” You can also read the direction of the gesture as “Don’t you mean him?” — pointing to the slumped figure to his right, Schama writes.
Life can change at the most unexpected moment most unexpectedly. Matthew’s life is turned upside down. “Leaving everything, he rose and followed him,” Luke writes (5:28). But that’s not all. Matthew throws a party and invites his former office colleagues to it. He comes out of the closet. His conversion is not a secret. He declares it to the world. “And Levi made him a great feast in his house, and there was a large company of tax collectors and others reclining at table with them” (Luke 5:29).
Matthew’s gospel describes how “as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples” (Matthew 9:10). Matthew has begun to tell other people about Jesus. He has begun to invite friends and colleagues — many of them scumbags like him — to meet and experience the Messiah.
Opposition to Matthew’s Conversion
But Matthew’s conversion stirs up opposition. The Pharisees are indignant. They don’t understand conversion or the gospel of grace. That is why Jesus’s response is two-fold. He responds with a proverb and a prophecy. “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick” (Matthew 9:12). This was a well-known proverb quoted by the Greek philosopher Diogenes and the Greek historian Plutarch.
Jesus is also turning the tables on the Pharisees. We are all sick. We have all sinned. The tax collectors and sinners have acknowledged their sickness and come to the doctor for healing. The Pharisees are sick but refuse to acknowledge their need for healing. They think they don’t need a doctor. They think religion will save them. That is why Jesus responds with a prophecy from Hosea 6:6: “I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.” Religion does not save; Jesus saves.
But the Pharisees are blind. They are like two men at the end of the table in Caravaggio’s painting. Even though they are directly facing Jesus they are totally oblivious to His presence as He enters the room. The elderly man is wearing glasses — a symbol of his spiritual shortsightedness. His neighbor is slumped over the table. He has his head down and is counting his money. Both are completely oblivious to everything that is happening — to the coming of Jesus, to the conversion of Matthew, and to their own spiritual state of damnation. It’s like real life: some look up, others take no notice.
Matthew responds by leaving everything to follow Jesus. The Pharisees respond with contempt. Caravaggio’s characters respond with indifference.
The story and the painting both ask us how we will respond.
Dr. Jules Gomes (BA, BD, MTh, PhD) has a doctorate in biblical studies from the University of Cambridge. Currently a Vatican-accredited journalist based in Rome, he is the author of five books and several academic articles. Gomes lectured at Catholic and Protestant seminaries and universities and was canon theologian and artistic director at Liverpool Cathedral.
