There are masterpieces in the history of painting that, overwhelmed by the powerful impact they have on our eyes, we cannot explain their genius. This is the case with Caravaggio’s The Calling of Saint Matthew. Why does it overwhelm us? If I had to use one word to define the key to its genius, it would be GRAVITY. There is an enveloping force in this painting that depends on a center of gravity which, in principle, we are unaware of. We are filled with a total ignorance of what captivates and overwhelms us. Let’s turn to science: in Isaac Newton’s scientific terms, we define gravitation as “the force of attraction between bodies that have mass.” Newton’s law states that bodies will attract each other more strongly the more mass they have and the closer they are to each other.

And yet, in this painting, we see that what has less mass, which is barely visible, is the true center of gravity. But let’s look at the content of the scene: Jesus calls Matthew, the tax collector, and simply says, “Follow me.” Paintings do not speak, but Jesus’ hand pointing at Matthew, who is counting coins, says it all, and specifically says emphatically, “Follow me.” A hand without mass, without words, that does not speak, that almost does not exist as it struggles to define itself between the darkness and the light coming from the window. Let’s look at the hand again, but bring it closer: it points to Matthew; however, the index finger also struggles to exist, it is almost immaterial, as it is pierced by the darkness, and it also goes almost unnoticed in its gesture, as it is neither straight nor rigid in its pointing.

Let us now turn to what is most visible: Jesus’ wrist, filled with light. Finally, let’s look at the whole hand, and we see that from the wrist to the index finger, in gradation, the hand loses mass and light. It is also a still hand, without strength, but almost falling, that is, it even seems as if the hand were about to bend, to fall, as if it were falling by the very force of its own gravity. It is as if Caravaggio had simply managed to brilliantly capture the law of gravity. But this is art, and Newton’s law does not apply here, because the true force and gravity of this painting lies in the powerful and structured ray of light in the form of a hypotenuse that articulates all the tension and all the images in the painting.

What does Caravaggio want to paint here? What is his enigma? Let us now turn to another context in order to answer this question. We find another true enigma, like the previous one concerning the gravitation of the aforementioned painting, in Peter’s response to Jesus’ invitation to cast his nets:

“Master, we have worked all the night and have caught nothing: but at thy word I will let down the net.”
– (Luke 5:5)

And indeed, the nets are filled with fish. Benedict XVI analyzes Peter’s response as follows: “He recognizes in what has happened the power of God, who acts through the word of Jesus, and this direct encounter with the living God in Jesus impresses him deeply.” The Pope continues: “He cannot bear the tremendous power of God, it is too overwhelming for him.” For Benedict XVI, it is “one of the most impressive texts to explain what happens when man suddenly feels himself in the direct presence of God” (Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth). In fact, with so much of God’s presence accumulated in Peter’s following of Jesus, it is natural that months later, when Jesus asks him, “Who do people say that I am?” and “Who do you say that I am?”, Peter responds with confidence: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” “Living” also because Peter has experienced it deeply within himself as a center of gravity.

Well, precisely what Caravaggio is painting in the picture we are now looking at is something alive, it is the very PRESENCE OF GOD, the living and direct presence of God whose center of gravity is a falling hand. The genius of an artist, in fact, lies in his technique, in how he places the masses and how they become true erogenous centers of gravity. But the life and soul of this painting lies not in the corporeal presence of the images and the light, but in the incorporeal, transparent, ethereal, yet omnipresent presence of God. And we do not perceive it because we are overcome by a total ignorance that is difficult to explain. Saint Teresa expresses it very well:

At first, I was just ignorant, so much so that I didn’t know God was in all things. And since He seemed so present to me, it seemed impossible. I couldn’t stop believing He was there, because I could almost clearly see His very presence there.
– Santa Teresa

This is the picture of “ignorance” of not knowing that God is present, but of feeling Him enveloping us in forms, in light, in an immaterial and falling hand, in the pure gravitation of the masses.