On Sacred Art

I've seen plenty of good sacred art in a lot of places, and I've been places that have left me feeling empty.  After my visit last week at the Hindu temple, I felt a little inspired to show what we have at home.  For years I've been blessed to watch the art at my own parish grow, change, and sometimes be moved around here and there.  Not that it has a life of its own, but sometimes we get a better idea of where to display it.

Because of the often stark representation, I feel that much of the art and architecture at my parish was born with Lent in mind.  I'm including just a few photos on this post, but in the future I may add more to others.

There was a time in my life, in the past, which seems like another world now, in which art and architecture meant everything to me.  As a younger man I spent a great deal of time painting before I found in myself an equally strong desire to capture images in photography. Although for many years the time and the desire to produce art faded.  However, as I mature I do find it resurfacing.  Art was always a big part of my worship life--both visual art and music.

In fact it was the art of the local parish--wherever I might have been at the time--and of the liturgy that were the big attractions for where I wanted to worship, and thus to some degree to my becoming Catholic also.  However, at first I didn't find many Catholic parishes that were necessarily designed with beauty in mind.  Rather some of my first experiences of the Church made it clear to me that things were made on a budget, and that beauty wasn't important.  Sure, it's okay to be in a temporary building that is less than attractive, but after 20 years the building is no longer temporary. 

Prior to converting, my exposure to visual sacred art was limited.  After all, evangelicalism prides itself in what one might call an iconoclast revival.  Nevertheless, I was keen on what those buildings looked like too.  I had Pentecostal pastor warn me that outward beauty is sure to fade and reminded me that the tabernacle in the wilderness was--in his opinion--not a good looking thing to behold.  He also said that the tabernacle in the wilderness served as a good analogy for the Pentecostal dress code.

Probably the greatest damage we as a people of faith can do to ourselves is to neglect sacred art, or to cut corners when it comes to the expressing ourselves spiritually in the created order. For me it doesn't matter so much whether it's a highly traditional expression of sacred art or a more contemporary expression, as is evident in my parish.  The most important thing is to find the medium that reflects the beauty of worship and shows the hand of God in it.

Comments

[JustMe]

Your photos are unique. I absolutely love the Holy Family one, but the photo under that surprisingly made me feel like I'm looking on as Jesus, or maybe as DDW, anxious to fill this place with the beating hearts of Mass.. I've seen an ancient altar and Stations in the wilderness under gray Irish skies, and true, it was not pretty; it was about as stark as any could want.

I'm undoubtedly a Ms. Fussypants when it comes to sacred art; I've noticed that churches with wonderful statues usually have the most flat Stations, or the one that has the most beautiful stained glass and the most magnificently-carved wooden cross whose Corpus winces out at us all in Agony, has a reredos designed by Tinkerbell..

The difference between a little country chapel I'd had to hunt for the Tabernacle in, and just the entrance of Our Lady of Victory basilica in Buffalo, NY was immense. I had to tape my mouth shut for the whole hour of exploration, 'cause my jaw just dropped wherever I looked. The bowls of holy water on each side, held by two angels, made me wonder how folks kept their kids from wading. The Stations were life-sized, each carved from a solid piece of Italian marble.. There were alcove altars all the way -- Our Lady, the Sacred Heart, the Pieta, and the altar was terrifying in its majesty. Red marble columns reaching up to the 1st or 2nd heaven, gold, gold, gold Tabernacle. And a papal umbrella nearby.. I remember looking around at the immensity and thinking, "THIS. THIS is how You should be honored, dear Lord. Not teakwood and pink carpet..oh, no-- THIS." It made me cry to think that a whole country spared no expense in procuring the most beautiful of everything for this, His church. How fortunate are those who can go spend hours there, praying and praying.

But of course, the Lord Himself lived in poverty. The poorest church on the planet is but one of the very greatest in His eyes.

[Ann]

I've become much more interested in religious art since I started blogging and find my eyes wandering a lot now when I go into new churches or unfamiliar ones.
One of my parish churches has beautiful Stations of the Cross, about 14 inches tall, hand - carved out of cedar wood, matt finished with gold paint used for Jesus' halo. I would defy anyone to look at these beautiful pieces of art and not see the hand of God.
Thanks, Deacon Dan, for the photos and I look forward to more.