Deacon Dan Wright

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.

A Boy and His Dog

There’s not all that much difference
between a boy and his dog, at least
not if you ask either one of them.

They go to all lengths to accomplish
one another’s bidding.

The ability to resonate with a friend
and his fleas is a sign of the truest
acceptance.

Seldom does time pass that the two
cannot see eye to eye. Life is meant
for sleeping late and not so scrupulous
grooming habits.

Years may pass but the boy and his
dog always remain in heart to heart
relation.

Ah, but if we could all learn from the
boy and his dog, what a lesson from
life the teacher.

The Lord's Voice...

...the Lord's voice rending the oak tree and stripping the forest bare.

I recently took took this photo very early in the morning on an overcast day before sunrise.  It's says something to me of the essence of Lent.  Not long from now I expect to see the tree budding and by Easter, at least here in Texas, new life will have once again sprung forth.

I tried to capture it in black and white, and while I did get some impressive shots I prefer the contrast in this particular photo, though it is dark.

There's something about trees that has always spoken to me of the spiritual... perhaps it's the branches reaching out searching for light or perhaps something in the tree itself that wants to be said, and that has waited for a long time to be spoken, but still remains silent.  Instead what we hear--if we listen well--is the voice of the Lord; it is the voice that strips the oak bare, that which speaks to us in the sacred night, in the quiet moments before daybreak, and in all the seasons of life.