Saint Joseph in Italian Renaissance Art.

Carolyn C. Wilson Saint Joseph's University Press, $49.95, 281pp.

Peter John Olivi and Ubertino da Casale figure prominently in Burr's book. They also have a place in Wilson's study of Saint Joseph in Italian Renaissance painting, because both men wrote on the significance of Saint Joseph in Christian piety. That they did so reminds us of how powerful the Franciscan influence was in orienting medieval piety to a consideration of the earthly Jesus. It was Francis, after all, who "humanized" the nativity of Jesus by celebrating a Christmas Mass in a stable in Greccio in 1223. It was inevitable that focus would be made on the dramatis personae of that scene.

Devotion to Saint Joseph, if one judges from the number of communities, parishes, and religious institutions under his patronage, is widespread. It is astonishing that there was no universal feast in his honor until 1470. That tardiness may also explain why no significant church bears his name in Rome. It was only in 1870 that Joseph was named the universal patron of the church, and more recently was honored on May 1 as the patron of workers (a move to counter the Communist May Day celebrations in Europe).

The apocryphal gospels uniformly insisted that Joseph was an old widower who was not Mary's husband, but her "guardian." That picture explains why he is often represented in art as elderly, drowsing, disengaged from the events at the birth of Jesus. In medieval plays he was often a comic figure. Wilson's thesis is that an examination of Renaissance painting indicates that this older stereotype will not do.

Wilson examines four broad categories of paintings: the marriage of Mary and Joseph; the adoration of the shepherds; the flight into Egypt; and scenes in which the Holy Family rests while on that flight. A careful reader (and observer--there are nearly eighty plates) can see that Joseph's role goes beyond the idea of spouse; Joseph is the sustainer of the Holy Family--he acts as a counterpart to the nursing Madonna. Some pictures have him holding a book (a wonderful Joos van Cleve of 1520 has him wearing iron spectacles at a lectern) indicating his role as heir of the Davidic line as foretold in the Scriptures. At times his rugged demeanor indicates his role as protector and leader. There is also a typological correlation in the iconography between Joseph as carpenter and God the Father as maker of the universe, an artisan of the cosmos who parallels the earthly father of Jesus.

An important truth woven into this work: The "language" of Christian art is multilayered. What one finds when paying attention to Christian iconography is that it contains a hidden history of reflection, contemplation, and remembrance. What Wilson has to say about Saint Joseph could be said about many other themes in art--think of the different messages embedded in the evolution of the crucifix, or depictions of the Last Supper. Only close observation shows us just how dense iconography is. If there is one thing I learned from a leisurely reading of this book, it is that I will never again look at Christmas cards or Christmas creches in quite the same way.

Lawrence S. Cunningham is John A. O'Brien Professor of Theology at the University of Notre Dame.