How do we paint disfigurement and bodily imperfections in saints?

Blessed Margaret of Castello is the patron saint of unwanted and disabled children. Born in 14th century Italy, she was disfigured and neglected from birth by her wealthy parents. She was taken in by Dominican nuns when she was sixteen and became a third order Dominican. Her story is both harrowing and inspiring: harrowing because of the suffering and cruelty she experienced; and inspiring because of her joy in life, which arose from her faith and transcended that suffering. Here is an account of her life from the website of the Dominican sisters at Nashville. As I read this story it occured to me that if this had been today and her parents had had access sonogram prior to her birth she would surely have become another abortion statistic.

A friend of mine, Gina Switzer, told me that she had been commissioned to paint her and we were discussing how artists might represent human disfigurement in saints so that they retain the dignity of the human person. So this week, I thought I'd write about this - for those who are looking for the continuation of the series, we'll come back to the series of architecture videos next week.

The first point is that it is not immediately clear that human imperfections should be portrayed in holy images. One might assume that these are absent in heaven and so to the degree that we show the redeemed person, argue that they should not be there at all. I was reminded that Denis McNamara told me recently that when they were designing the stained glass windows for the new John Paul II chapel at Mundelein, they thought about this and deliberately left  out St Maximilian Kolbe's spectacles for just this reason.

The counter to this is that in order to make an image worthy of veneration, according to the theology of holy images established by St Theodore the Studite in the 9th century, two things need to be present: first the name should be written on the image; and second it should portray the essential visual characteristics of the saint. This last criterion refers to those aspects of the saint that together give the person his unique identity. This can include a physical likeness, although a rigid application of physical likeness is not appropriate - a holy image is not a portrait. We are thinking here of those things that characterize the person and his story, for example, St Paul's baldness, the tongs containing hot coal for Isaias. With this in mind, to use the example of the JPII chapel again, Denis told me that for Blessed Teresa of Calcutta they did want to show her deformed feet because it symbolized her charity - this disfigurment arose because she always chose the worst shoes for herself from those donated to the order. We thought that for St Margaret, in this age of the culture of death, the portrayal of her joyful but with her physical imperfections would be particularly important.

One ideas was to look for inspiration at the dwarfs painted by Velazquez from the court of Philip IV of Spain, who have great dignity and bearing. This idea was rejected, firstly because they can also have an imappropriate haughtiness about them which would have to be changed. And second, because to incorporate all of these considerations into a naturalistic style and be able to pull it off would be very difficult indeed - it might almost require a Velazquez to do it. Even in naturalistic styles there should always be a degree of symbilism (or idealism) and this is notoriously difficult for contemporary Catholic artists to get right even for easier subjects. (Below you see his portrait of Sebastien de Morro.)

In the light of all these considerations I thought that I would probably paint an image in a gothic or iconographic style in which her natural physical characteristics were shown, retained but nevertheless redeemed in some way. The first thing I always do is, as I was taught, look first at existing images and if I can find one that is appropriate, just copy it. The aim to change as little as possible. If there is no perfect image to copy then I look at other images from which I can use the particular characteristics that appear to be missing from my desired image and patch them together into a single image. Only if I can find nothing that has already been painted do I attempt something original. I create drawings made from observation of nature and onto those I impose the stylistic form of the tradition that I am working in.

I found this picture of this sculpture of St Margaret.

I thought that a painting in egg tempera based upon this would work. A change I would make, I though, would be to change the face to one that is more joyful. I like the ones that I see in a series of Aidan Hart's icons, such as St Winifride or St Hilda of Whitby or St Melangell, which look to me as though they are based on an ancient icon of St Theodosia which is at Mt Sinai. You can see images of each below. One thing that I would do is close her eyes to indicate St Margaret's blindness:

Denis McNamara of Architecture, part 4: the Classical Tradition

And no, this does not mean that every building has to look like a Roman temple.

Here is the fourth in the series of short videos by Denis McNamara. Denis is on the faculty of the Liturgical Institute, Mundelein; and his book is Catholic Church Architecture and the Spirit of the Liturgy.

Before I sat in on some of his lectures this summer, I had been aware of Denis's emphasis on the classical tradition in architecture. I have to admit, I did have half a suspicion that his ideal was a world of faux Roman temples - all domes and Doric columns.

As I found out, and as you can see in the video, he does not mean this at all - although it does include what most of us think of as classical style. He describes classical architecture as any style that is created out of a respect for tradition and which participates in order of nature that 'reveals the mind of God'.  This includes, for example, gothic architecture.

Furthermore, he says that a respect for tradition does not mean that we look back, rather it provides a set of principles that will guide us as we go forward employing forms that might echo the past closely, or on the other hand might have styles that are previously unimagined. The potential range of styles is limitless.

Rather than painting a picture of people walking backwards reluctantly into the future wishing they could head for the past,  he is giving us one which is closer to the crew of a beautiful sloop that looks forward in optimism as it sails into the rising sun in the East, with tradition firmly at the tiller.

His reference to the mind of God is reminiscent of language used by Pope Benedict XVI, the Spirit of the Liturgy in which he describes how the numerical description of the patterns of the cosmos give us a glimpse into the mind of the Creator. Even the beauty of this world as it is now, fallen, does not reveal the divine beauty fully, for it is a fallen world. The question the good architect asks himself when designing a building is not so much, how can I reflect the beauty of the cosmos as it is, but rather, how can I reflect the beauty of the cosmos as it is meant to be? For me a critical point is that if we want beauty we cannot escape this question, for there is no order outside the divine order, only disorder and ugliness. Any building, or for that matter any aspect of the culture that does not look forward to the heavenly ideal

Onwards and Eastwards!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDpg_ChcgfI

Pictures from the Way of Beauty explained: Attingham House, Shropshire

A perfect exemplar of traditional harmonious proportion. And how modern research supports the traditional consensus for what is beautiful.

This is a picture that is only referred to in the book. For various reasons we were unable to include it in the book. I visited Attingham park in Shropshire in the Midlands area of England with my icon painting teacher Aidan Hart. We went primarily to enjoy the extensive grounds which are beautifully landscaped. I always thought that it was made in the 17th century, but in fact I notice now that it was build in the late 18th century.

It is a National Trust property, which means that it is owned by  the state and considered a place of outstanding interest and beauty. When I was there I noticed the proportional layout of the main house, as seen in this view above. What makes this particularly worthy of study is how simple the design, yet how beautiful. If it were not for the Palladian style portico (the grand columned porch that leads to the entrance of the building) the main house would be just a square block. One might argue that there was very little in terms of design to differentiate it from a modern housing block.

Both have windows and doors in a rectangular facade. Yet the modern building is no tourist attraction. In fact it was described in the website where I saw it as one of the seven most notorious housing projects in the US.

What gives Attingham House its beauty is the proportion? Proportion is the consonant relationship between three or more objects of different size. You cannot have pleasing proportion when everything is the same size as in the modern building shown. The basis for theories of harmonious proportion are consensus - people have observed since the ancient Greeks how most people react psychologically to different proportions. The Attingham House proportions are made apparent by the different window sizes associated with the three stories. If you count the panes of glass there are 6 in the lower floor, 4 in the second floor and 2 in the upper floor windows. The proportion would be expressed mathematically as 3:2:1. This corresponds exactly to the traditional proportions based upon the lengths of pipes that produce pleasing combinations of musical notes developed by the ancient Greek philosopher, Pythagoras (who we talked about in the last of these features, here.)

It seems that modern science is beginning to catch up. Someone recently contacted me to tell me about this book by Colin Ellard, Places of the Heart in which a psychologist conducts studies to see how different designs affect the mood of people.

If the designers of modern housing projects had made use of such proportions, even such mass housing could elevate the spirit in the same, way.

Behold the lamb of Advent!

Here's an enterprising way to draw people into the liturgy...and to prepare for Advent:

This from Jesson Mata, recently appointed Director of Office of Divine Worship for Archbishop Sample in the Archdioces of Portland, Oregon. He is also the Archbishop's Master of Ceremonies. He has done a blog posting on how to cook a dish - 'lamb with earthy vegetables'. At one level this is a simple cooking demonstration but he connects it with the liturgical season of Advent and offers it in anticipation of the coming season. This highlights the point that feasts and fasts are not just religious observances or names given to the liturgical celebration but are about eating (or not as the case may be).

There can be a tendency to think of the Lamb's supper, in the Mass, as a symbolic replication of conventional meals, but in fact it is the other way around. Formal meals are quasi-liturgical activities that are derived from and point to the holy banquet.

Similarly, the choice of vegetables reflects the earthly season, which points us to the seasons of sacred time. It is sacred time that is the model for earthly time, and not the other way around. He also gives it a Oregonian connection by making use of locally grown produce.

Anyway, here is the posting, complete with the video of Jessen in his kitchen...

Read the article here.

My only criticism would be the same one I have of all haute cuisine - the size of the helping. If I was presented with a meal like this I could probably eat about 10 of them and still be hungry. Then again, I am a bit of a Philistine when it comes to food and tend to see quantity and quality as the same thing!

Jesson also chooses a very interesting modern image of Our Lady - it has a hazy, gothic feel to it which I think works very well. I didn't recognize it so asked Jesson about it and he referrred me to this link here. The artist is Kay Eneim and it was painted in 2007. As she explains its is 'copied' from a 14th painting by Spanish gothic master, Pere Serra. She explains her reasons for focussing just on Our Lady (the original has many saints surrounding her). It is to her credit that she did not seek to do something wholly original (as someone working in the modern idiom might) This selective copying, changing only what is necessary to make it accessible to the modern eye, is how artists should approach the reestablishment of these traditions today as living traditions.

Denis McNamara on Architecture, part 3: the Jewish Roots of Church Architecture

In this, the third of a series of ten videos by Denis McNamara, he discusses how church architecture reflects the roots of the function of the church in those of the Temple and the synagogue.

Denis is on the faculty of the Liturgical Institute, Mundelein; and his book is Catholic Church Architecture and the Spirit of the Liturgy.

Drawing on St Gregory the Great and Pope Benedict, he refers to three eras in time: the pre-Christian time of the Jewish faith, the 'time of shadow'; the heavenly period to which we all look and which is called the 'time of reality'; and the time in between, which we occupy. This is the 'time of image'. The liturgy of the time of image both recalls the sacrificial aspects of the previous age and anticipates and gives us a foretaste of our heavenly end. Having described time in this way, Denis then goes on to explain how good church architecture reflects this.

As I was listening to this, I was reminded of how in art, again according to Pope Benedict, there are three authentic liturgical traditions. The baroque 'at its best' reveals historical man, that is man after the Fall but with the potential for sanctity as yet unrealised. It occured to me that this might seen also as the art of the time of shadow (after all it is characterized visually by deep shadows contrasted with the light of hope).

The art of eschatological man - man fully redeemed in heaven - is the icon. This is the art of the 'time of reality' and visually there are never any deep cast shadows in this form. Every figure is a source of light.

The art of the in-between time is the gothic, which I always called the art of our earthly pilgrimage. Like the spire of the gothic church it spans the divide between heaven and earth. Its form reflects the partial divinization of man which characterizes the Christian who participates in the liturgy. This might then be called the art of the 'time of image'. As before, any are curious to know more about this analysis can find a deeper explanation in the book the Way of Beauty.

In contrast to the artistic forms, in which the form of each tradition focusses on one age, the form of the church building, regardless of style, must reveal all three ages simultaneously. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLj2ivFh75M

What is a church? What is the Church?...and How are They Connected?

The essence of Church as institution, and church as building. And how understanding this is what opens up the 'Pope Francis effect' to all people.

A friend was telling me recently how much he is enjoying meeting regularly with a group of friends, a mixture of Catholics and non-Catholics, to read the bible and pray together. From what I gathered, it had started as much for the sharing of friendship and conviviality as it was to explore different ideas of Christianity, but gradually the development of personal faith had become a more and more important part of it.

What had struck him, he told me, was how the different understanding of the church is was proving a stumbling block in explaining his Faith to his friends. I thought it was worth summarizing our discussion of this here, because it relates directly to beauty and worship and how we engage with the culture; and this is something, I suggest, that we can see in Pope Francis as I have been describing in recent articles.

If there was a quick way to describe the different ideas of what a church (as an institution now, not the building) is, then it might be this: for his protestant friends, their understanding of a church is of a community united by common belief. It is the creed, what is believed in common, that makes the church. That community can be local, as in a parish; and it can much wider, something that links many parishes together. Catholics believe this too, but there is something else that defines a church and is present, we believe, only in the Church. That is common worship.

In fact, for the Catholic this identity of common worship is the most important thing of all. All of the Church's activity is directed towards right worship for it is in its heart, at the Eucharist, we encounter personally, the living God. This is the foundation of our personal relationship, coming before emotions and feelings about God (which may be very good nevertheless). This is the optimal place to respond to the love of God so that in accepting it, we are transformed, supernaturally, as better lovers and, for all our personal inadequacies, become more capable of loving other.

In his book, the Spirit of the Liturgy, as my friend pointed out, Pope Benedict talks about how it is natural to man to worship God. If this natural tendency is distorted or not given full expression then it has a profound effect on us as people. The saying of the Church Fathers going back to the early centuries of the Church that describes this effect is lex orandi, lex credendi - rule of prayer, rule of faith. This expression tells us that it is how we pray in the liturgy more than anything else that forms what we believe in. This is why, if you want to destroy belief, you attack the liturgy. Accordingly, we believe that because the wider culture is a manifestation in all that we do of our attitude to God - art, music, architecture even the mundane activities of daily life, if you want to restore the culture you restore right worship in our churches.

So how do we know how to worship properly? We believe that this was revealed to us as much as Holy Scripture. Both the form of worship and holy scripture have been preserved in what we call Tradition. We believe that we are not at liberty to change it and in fact would not want to, because this is offered to us not as a constraint, or as a rod to beat us with, but rather as a gift. It is a heavenly path, that shows us how to love God adequately, so that we can be capable of accepting his love. This is why in the last two articles I wrote about Pope Francis I suggested that the optimal way for us to shine with the light of Christ and to know how to love man effectively is a full and active participation (properly understood) in the liturgy that leads to a supernatural transformation. That liturgy is not just any form of worship but it is the sacred liturgy that God has given us.

In the Spirit of the Liturgy, Pope Benedicts talks of the fault of the Isrealites who were worshipping the golden calf as that of worshipping in a way that differed from that which God had told them to do (in the Jewish liturgy). In our own way, if try to modify the liturgy from what is ordained we participate in the same flaw.

This importance of the liturgy to the identity of the Church is reflected in the way that the Catechism of the Catholic Church defines it. It refers to the other understanding of church as community, but very clearly places that of worship as the highest: 'In Christian usage, the word "church" designates the liturgical assembly, but also the local community or the whole universal community of believers. These three meanings are inseparable. "The Church" is the People that God gathers in the whole world. She exists in local communities and is made real as a liturgical, above all a Eucharistic, assembly. She draws her life from the word and the Body of Christ and so herself becomes Christ's Body.' (CCC, 752)

That is what the Church is as an institution, but how does that relate to the church as a building? The two are intimately connected...or they should be.

If you recall the last posting I made, in which Denis McNamara talks of the importance of beauty in architecture. He describes how one of the important attributes of the church if it is going to be beautiful is that it must communicate to us - radiate -  through its form just what it is. In fact this is how you define beauty: it is the 'radiance of being'.

If a church is going to communicate its 'churchness' to us it will reveal in outward signs what it is for. Now we can see what has been the cause of so much ugliness in church design especially in the last 75 years. Architects did not seek to reveal the full purpose of the church to us through its forms. There was a neglect of the true liturgical purpose of the church and too much emphasis on human fellowship and community. For a church to be beautiful it must not only look like a place of community, it must also, crucially, look like a place of worship. And that worship must be right worship. Furthermore it must be a symbol of what the Church as in institution is, the body of Christ and relate to God the Son. Practically this last aspect might have been achieved,for example, by basing the design features on the porportions of an idealized man.

Someone who does not understand all of this and how it can be reflected in form cannot create a church that looks like a church,  and so cannot create a beautiful church (except by luck).

By the way, as you look at the photographs, which are all churches, ask yourself two questions: first, do I think it is beautiful?; and second, could I tell it was church without being told so (or having an obvious sign such as a cross).

Denis McNamara on the Meaning of Beauty and its Importance in Church Architecture

In this short video  Denis McNamara talks about the nature of beauty and then talks about it in the context of sacred architecture (scroll to the bottom if you want to go straight to it and avoid my comments!). Denis is on the faculty of the Liturgical Institute, Mundelein; and his book is Catholic Church Architecture and the Spirit of the Liturgy.This is the second in the series of 10 which I will be featuring in coming weeks.

In this video, Denis points out that beauty is not simply 'in the eye of the beholder' but is a property of the object itself, the thing that we are judging to be beautiful. He is asserting the the principle of objective beauty - it is in the object percieved; and objecting (if you'll forgive the pun) to the opposite principle, the idea of subjective beauty - which would be to say that it is simply a matter of personal taste of the person - the subject - who is seeing the object.

He defines beauty as a property of something that 'reveals its ontological being'. Another way of putting this was given to me by Dr Caroline Farey of the School of the Annunciation in Devon, England. She defined beauty as the 'splendour of being'. Both definitions are telling us that beauty is a property of something that reveals to us what  it is. So in the context of this talk, to be beautiful a church must look like church. It must appeal to our sense of what a church is.

As a bit of supporting anecdotal evidence for the definition that Denis gives: when I was a high school physics teacher in England many years ago, at the end of term I used to present the class with a piece of mechanical equipment made in Victorian times. It had cogs and moving parts exquisitely machined in polished brass. No one in the building knew what it was for, and we couldn't tell from looking at it what its purpose was (I never found out). Nevertheless, the precision and harmony of the motion its parts when turned were such that all assumed that it must have one. I would bring this into the classroom and without comment place it down on the table in front of them; I would let them look at it for a few moments. Then I would ask the question: 'Do you think this is beautiful?' Every time the response of the students was the same. They didn't answer yes or no, the always asked: 'What is it?' These were 17 and 18 year olds who had never studied aesthetics and and it was a school in London that had no particular Catholic or even Christian connections. Yet these students knew instintively that they could not answer the question, 'is it beautiful?' without knowing what the object was.

As I see it, this establishment of principles of beauty should not be interpreted as a way of proving (or disproving) that something is beautiful. Any attempts to create 'rules of beauty' to that end will always fall flat in this regard. That is not to say that there are not guiding principles, but that these are better thought of in the same way as the rules of harmony and counterpoint in music. All beautiful music makes good use of them; but not all music that obeys the rules of harmony and counterpoint is beautiful. There is always a intuitive element that relates to how they are employed that cannot be accounted for definitively when creating beauty - this is what marks the good composer from someone who just has technical understanding.

In the appreciation of beauty, there is always a subjective element present. This does not compromise the principle of objective beauty, however: some people are able to recognise beauty and some are not. Ultimately we don't know for certain who has this ability and who doesn't. This lack of an ultimate and perfect authority to whom we can appeal means that in the end we rely on the best authority we have, tradition. Tradition, in this context can be thought of as a consensus of the opinions of many people over generations as to what is beautiful and what is not. It is not a perfect guide, and clearly is less reliable the more recent the work of art we are judging, but it is the best we have.

https://youtu.be/-c3JWNZSrDI

Pope Francis's message to give to the poor: should we sell the treasures in the Vatican and distribute the proceeds?

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I think not! Some time ago, on the final Monday of Lent, Mass at Thomas More College was celebrated by one of the monks from St Benedict's Abbey in Still River. As usual, we got a stimulating and challenging homily. It challenged us to give to the poor, but not in the way that we often hear.

The gospel passage on this occasion was about Martha and Mary: Martha tended to the guests and Mary washed Jesus feet with expensive nard, a fragrant ointment. Unusually, (in my experience at any rate), the homily spoke not so much to the contrast between Martha and Mary, but between Mary and Judas. It was the latter who suggested that the money spent on nard would have been better given to the poor. Here was a lesson about allocation of resources.  Mary made the right choice, we were told, in choosing Christ even before giving to the poor. Then an even more interesting point was made. There is an equivalent choice facing us today every time we have to decide about having beautiful churches and art, intricate vestments, ornate jewel-studded chalices and so on. Is it right to direct money to these things when there is poverty? The answer is yes when these things, through the liturgy, elevate the souls of the faithful to Christ and this is greater than giving to the poor.

However, in order to understand how this can be so, some additional points must be made. First is that there is a point beyond which spending money on ornamentation of churches would constitute extravagance. But provided that point has not been reached then spending money on that nobler end is not asking the poor to make a sacrifice either. This may surprise some people but it is true. First of all, all of us, rich or poor, can go to church and need our souls saving, so the poor benefit spiritually from the beauty of the church and the liturgy as much as the rich do. Second, is that when we see the greater picture, the poor will benefit materially as well. It will inspire the rich to give to the poor directly. Further to that it will allow for the generation of greater wealth for the benefit of the poor. This is the principle of superabundance at work.

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It occurred to me as I pondered on this afterwards that it is this last point that escapes so many people. Life is not a zero-sum game. Love is always fruitful - and when it is it invokes the principle of superabundance which means that something is created out of nothing.  The miracle of the loaves and fishes applies to wealth as well when we place Christ first. Inspiring holiness will not only cause people to give more of their wealth to the poor, it will also mean that love permeates each personal interaction to a greater degree, including economic ones. As a consequence, their economic activity more superabundant. It is a double whammy! More wealth is generated to for rich and poor alike and those for whom it is generated are more inclined in turn to give to others who need it. This is the principle of good stewardship.

It is not surprising that critics of beautiful churches should not be aware that the supernatural has an impact on the creation and distrubution of wealth and on the distribution of social justice. Quite apart from consideration of the spiritual aspects of this, which require faith in order to be accepted, it is a basic principle of economics that seems to be beyond so many people who really ought to know better - right up to the level of finance ministers. Wealth is generated out of nothing through economic activity. It is superabundance that creates wealth. Once we realise this then it becomes obvious that tax policy, for example, will be effective if directed towards promoting wealth generation as well as wealth redistribution. (For any that are interested, I have written more of my thoughts on this in an article called Beauty, Business and Liturgy - A Theology of Work and the Entrepreneur.)

It is also the reason, incidentally, that there is such fear about the availability of resources for the future that result in advocating population control, contraception and abortion. Without the realisation that man's ingenuity, inspired by God, can invoke the principle of superabundance to allow greater things to emanate from less, it is impossible to believe that we can live beyond the next generation. This is not to advocate irresponsible use of the world's resources, rather to say that there is more to consider than just the material.

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Think now of Pope Francis's call to charity and the poor and his citing of St Francis of Assisi as a model. I claim no insights as to how the Holy Father hopes to see this manifested, but his words have inspired me to think about how I might contribute to what he asks for. Certainly it is true that St Francis himself and the Franciscan order generally is known for their concern for the poor and the model they give of personal poverty. However, St Francis was also told to rebuild Christ's Church. He did both and he did both lovingly and beautifully. So many of the great artists from the time of Francis were third order Franciscans or worked for them at the very least, and they were great innovators - Giotto, Cimabue, Simone Martini, Raphael, Michelangelo. They were contributing to the building of great and beautiful churches and this is evidence, I would say, that points to strong belief in the value of the liturgy. Furthermore, these were innovators who were contributing the creation of a whole new culture of beauty, which through a greater appreciation of nature also fostered huge progress in natural science that generated material wealth for society. All of this is consistent with these twin aims of rebuilding the Church and caring for poor. When you rely on God you tap into the infinite. Inspiring people, rich and poor alike to come closer to God will create benefits in every area of our lives.

So it is only those who have a limited either-or mentality in regard to these things who would interpret a call to help the poor as one that also diverts money away from the support of beautiful churches and liturgy.

There is one argument for less ornate and simpler decoration in churches that is valid. That is one put forward by St Bernard of Clairveaux. If the beauty of the church is so alluring that it acts to distract us from Christ, then it is problematic. If you want to know if this applies to you...then ask yourself when you close you eyes: does your imagination takes you to somewhere lower that the art of the churches, or somewhere higher and closer to heaven. If you naturally think of things lower, then beautiful art in churches is beneficial to you. Those who are hindered by beauty in churches are exceptional. Bernard who was a lot higher up the spiritual slopes than most of us was clearly someone for whom the problem was the opposite. The imagery of the church was lower than the natural place of his imagination, and so were a distraction to him.

The Franciscan, by the nature of their calling, are out engaging with the world, and so, perhaps, the beauty of their churches was calculated to ensure that their prayer and their liturgical imaginations were raised up to the source of their love for the poor. Whatever the precise reason, as one of the spiritually weak whose imagination runs riot if left to its own devices, I am always grateful whenever a church and the liturgy are beautiful.

So please, keep everything in Rome. Except, that is, for the ugly concrete buildings and abstract garish stained glass windows from the 1960s, you can sell those...if anyone will buy them.

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Vermeer - Martha and Mary

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Luca Giordano - The Good Samaritan

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Ribera - St Francis

Franciscan monastery

Franciscan monastery Assisi

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...and if you're fed up with reading and looking and want to start creating beauty, here's a unique sacred art class - learn the style of the English gothic psalter...

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What is the cause of the Pope Francis effect? It is nothing new. On the contrary, it is his conformity to tradition!

He is a model of the New Evangelization that we can all imitate. After his visit to the United States, the sense is that Pope Francis has done a remarkable job in connecting with people beyond the Church. True, there is constant argument about what he actually says, what people want him to say and what he really means. But despite the confusion no one can doubt that he has a knack for connecting with people. Just today, as I write this, I had a spam email from a political candidate who is, as far as I know, an avowed socialist asking me to vote for him  with a connection to a speech he made praising Pope Francis because of his concern for the poor. (I am not entitled to vote for anyone in the US incidentally so he had wasted his time even if I agreed with thim). It is interesting that this should happen despite the fact that Pope Francis has repeatedly condemned socialism and a the fact the the candidate wants to use Francis to push his agenda, indicates how strong his public image is. My reaction to this was to think that this is not an argument for me to vote for socialism, as the candidate thinks; but rather one for the socialists to realise that their aims would be better met if they converted to Catholicism! Stranger things have happened!

I am presenting three articles about him to mark the occasion of his visit, sparked off by a conversation with a friend who told me that she had noticed how many of her friends, especially non-Catholics seemed to warm to him. We were asking ourselves why he is so popular. Is it really just that the non-Catholics like him because he sounds as though he is reversing Catholic teaching? I don't think so as you'll see. You will see that I am largely still optimistic about the Franciscan papacy. I do hope that I feel the same after the synod on the family which is taking place as speak :)

Two of these three contain some things I have written before, but represented in this new context.

How does he do it? The answer, I believe is quite simple and it is nothing to do with PR tactics or political spinning if ever there was a Pope that really seemed less interested and less skilled in the art of polished media manipulation it is this one. Rather, to the degree that he is connecting with people and drawing them to the truth, what is drawing people in is supernatural.

Those who do not believe in the supernatural will not account for it in this way, even if they like him, but that doesn't invalidate the point. I suggest that what we see here is a case of the New Evangelization at work. For Catholics it works like this - or rather it ought to if we followed the Church's teaching: by our participation in the sacramental life, we are transformed supernaturally so that we partake of the divine nature. By degrees in this life, and fully in the next, we enter into the mystery of the Trinity, relating personally to the divine godhead by being united to the mystical body of Christ, the Church. When this happens we shine with the light of Truth as Christ did at the Transfiguration - people see beauty and love in our daily actions because they are, quite literally, graceful. They see the joy in our lives. This is what people are seeing in Pope Francis, I suggest. And here is the great fact that so often seems to be missed, the Pope is not especially blessed in participating in this. On the contrary, what he is showing us something that is available to every single one of us, low or high. This is what he wants us to believe.

How do we get this. The place of transformation, if I can put it like that, is our encounter with God in the sacred liturgy, most especially the Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours with the Eucharist at its heart. All of the Christian life is consummated in this life by our worship of God. It is by accepting the love of God first, and most powerfully in the sacred liturgy, that we are transformed into lovers who are capable of loving our fellow man and the Franciscan way.

This message is precisely the same as Pope Benedict XVI and John Paul II before him. In this sense Francis is utterly traditional. He is, I suggest, able to be the Pope of evangelization because he comes after the work of these two great Popes who did so much, beginning with John Paul II, in the chaotic aftermath of  Vatican II to implement the true message of the council. Contrary to what is often reported, he does not stand out against his predecessors. Rather, in his own way, he is in conformity with them.

Let us take the case in point. What is his view on the liturgy and the need for supernatural transformation. His words and actions indicate that he understands that all Benedict XVI did was not only necessary, but he now wants to continue in the same vein. This may be a surprise to many, but this is why I think so.

I have heard some express disappointment that there was not enough emphasis on the liturgy in the apostolic exhortation of Pope Francis, Evangelii Gaudium. It is true that there is little direct reference to the liturgy, and so it might appear at first sight that there is little interest from the Pope on this matter.

I have no special access to the personal thoughts of the Holy Father beyond what is written, so like everyone else, I look at the words and ask myself what they mean. In doing this, given that the Holy Father is for the most part articulating general principles, and given that I am not in a position to ask him directly, I am forced to interpret and ask myself what does he mean in practice? And then the next question I ask myself is this: to what degree does this change what the Church is telling me I ought to do? Or rather is he simply directing my attention to an already existing aspect of Church teaching that he feels is currently neglected?

If I want to, of course, I can choose to look at it the Exhortation as a manifesto in isolation and assume that is the sum total of all that the Pope believes; or I can choose to see this in the context of a hermeneutic of continuity. In other words I will assume that in order to understand this document, I must read read it as a continuation of those that went before, and this means most especially the period just before the advent of Pope Francis, that is, the documents of the papacy of Pope Emeritus Benedict. So unless I see something that contradicts them, I will assume that they are considered valid and important still.

If we read it this way, then because he doesn't have much to say on any particular issue, it doesn't mean that he opposes it, or even that he thinks it is unimportant, rather it means that he feels that what is appropriate has already been said and so has little or nothing to add.

This is what traditionalists within the Church say that the liberals failed to do after Vatican II.  Sacrosanctum Concilium must be read, we have been told (and I think quite rightly) in the context of what went before to be properly understood; and is one reason why Pope Benedict XVI encouraged celebration of the Extraordinary Form of the Mass - so the people could learn from and experience of that context, so to speak. I accept this argument fully, and therefore, it seems reasonable to read the writings of the new Pope in this way too.

Now to Evangelii Gaudium and the liturgy. The following paragraph appears:

'166. Another aspect of catechesis which has developed in recent decades is mystagogic initiation.[128] This basically has to do with two things: a progressive experience of formation involving the entire community and a renewed appreciation of the liturgical signs of Christian initiation. Many manuals and programmes have not yet taken sufficiently into account the need for a mystagogical renewal, one which would assume very different forms based on each educational community’s discernment. Catechesis is a proclamation of the word and is always centred on that word, yet it also demands a suitable environment and an attractive presentation, the use of eloquent symbols, insertion into a broader growth process and the integration of every dimension of the person within a communal journey of hearing and response.'

So what is mystagogical initiation? What the Pope is saying seems to me be referring to and reiterating what was said in the apostolic exhortation written by Pope Emeritus Benedict, Sacramentum Caritatis. This is headed 'On the Eucharist as the Source and Summit of the Church's Life and Mission' and was written following a synod of bishops (I don't know, but I'm guessing the Pope Francis was present). In a section entitled 'Interior participation in the celebration' we have a subheading 'Mystagogical catechesis' in which the views of the gathered bishops are referred to specifically:

'64. The Church's great liturgical tradition teaches us that fruitful participation in the liturgy requires that one be personally conformed to the mystery being celebrated, offering one's life to God in unity with the sacrifice of Christ for the salvation of the whole world. For this reason, the Synod of Bishops asked that the faithful be helped to make their interior dispositions correspond to their gestures and words. Otherwise, however carefully planned and executed our liturgies may be, they would risk falling into a certain ritualism. Hence the need to provide an education in eucharistic faith capable of enabling the faithful to live personally what they celebrate.'

This is so important that the following paragraph was included also:

c) Finally, a mystagogical catechesis must be concerned with bringing out the significance of the rites for the Christian life in all its dimensions – work and responsibility, thoughts and emotions, activity and repose. Part of the mystagogical process is to demonstrate how the mysteries celebrated in the rite are linked to the missionary responsibility of the faithful. The mature fruit of mystagogy is an awareness that one's life is being progressively transformed by the holy mysteries being celebrated. The aim of all Christian education, moreover, is to train the believer in an adult faith that can make him a "new creation", capable of bearing witness in his surroundings to the Christian hope that inspires him.' [my emphases]

I don't think it is possible to make a stronger statement on the centrality of the liturgy to the life of the Church and the importance of the faithful understanding this and deepening their participation in it. There is no reason to believe that Pope Francis is dissenting from this, in fact quite the opposite - he seems to be referring directly to it and re-emphasising it. If this is what he doing, then he might be stressing the liturgy in a way that even some Catholic liturgical commentators do not. (Indeed, one wonders if the first step in mystagogical catechesis for many is one that begins by explaining the meaning of the phrase 'mystagogical cathechesis'!)

I wonder also how many Catholic colleges and universities (I am thinking here of those that consider themselves orthodox) actually make mystagogy the governing principle in the design of their curricula? How many Catholic teachers, regardless of the subject they are teaching, consider how what they are teaching relates to it? If we believe what Pope Benedict wrote (and Francis appears to be referring to) then if I can't justify what I teach in these terms, then it isn't worth teaching.

Am I choosing to interpret Pope Francis the way I wish to see it too? Perhaps - like most people I would always rather that others agreed with me than the other way round. Only future events will demonstrate if I am correct. However, his papacy so far seems to support this picture: while there are some new things, I have read nothing that that explicitly rejects anything that developed during the previous papacy (that's not to say that he hasn't said things that could be interpreted that way if we chose to). In fact, the signs seem to indicate the reverse: his appointment as the Prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments has told us the he was directed explicitly by Pope Francis, to 'continue the good work in the liturgy started by Pope Benedict XVI,'  He has broadened and strengthened the mission of the Anglican Use Ordinariate, which is all about enrishment of the liturgy in the English vernacular. I wrote about this in an article 'Has Pope Francis saved Western culture?'. And I have read articles in the New Liturgical Movement website and elsewhere heard anecdotal evidence that he has rejected direct appeals from deputations of emboldened liturgical liberals asking him to ban the Extraordinary Form and celebrating the Mass ad orientem (I attended at a papal Mass in St Peters that was celebrated by him in Latin two years ago).

His personal preferences may not be precisely the same as mine, and I will freely admit that in some of the specifics of matters where I am not bound to agree with him - matters of science and politics for example. But in but in his reinforcement of matters of the Faith, I don't hear anyone telling me that the views I had three years ago need to be changed at all. So in regard to liturgy, art, music and even free market economics (despite the alarm of many), I see nothing as yet that worries me at all...quite the opposite.

Denis McNamara on the Theology of Architecture

Here is the first of a series of 10 short videos (about six minutes each) presented by the architectural historian Denis McNamara of the Liturgical Institute in Mundelein. I had the pleasure of meeting him recently and sitting in on one or two of his classes. They were excellent.

These talks introduce succinctly and well, I feel, some of the themes that I heard him talk about in his classes. He is a good and entertaining teacher and speaker and this comes across in the videos. You can find more detail of the subject matter in his book, Catholic Church Architecture and the Spirit of the Liturgy.

What was of great interest to me was to see how he tackled issues for which there are parallel problems in sacred art. For example, how do you reconnect with tradition without falling in the error of historicism? Historicism is an undiscerning respect for the past that says, in simple terms: 'Old is always good; new is always bad.'

The corrollary of this has to be considered too: to what degree should we use aspects of contemporary architecture? How can we ensure that the form we are using connects with people today, while ensuring that we don't compromise the timeless principles that are essential to make it appropriate for its sacred purpose? You might say that what we want to do is to be able to innovate if necessary while avoiding the errors of modernism ('new always good; old always bad') or post- modernism ('anything is good if I think it is').

When I was considering just these questions in art, the only way I could respond was to try to look for a theology of form that connected the material form to the truths that the artist was trying to convey. If we understood this, I thought, then it would give us the freedom to innovate without stepping outside the authentic traditions of liturgical art. (A large part of my book, the Way of Beauty is devoted to consideration of this.)

It seems to me that this is just the conclusion that Denis has drawn too. In this video he introduces the idea of the theology of form for architecture by which the church building becomes a symbol of the mystical body of Christ. You might say the church manifests the Church in material form and in microcosm, He refers to this as a 'sacramental theology' of architecture.

In the nine videos that follow (which I will be posting weekly with a short introduction each time) he unpacks some important parts of this theology for us. If you are impatient to see them, you'll find them on YouTube!

https://youtu.be/2PDWXMMgy9c?list=PLmb-kTzyYnt5i14gShUc1ZYNPGTqG7P6p

More information about the painted dove in the Newman Center, Lincoln, Nebraska

Showing us how to re-establish a cultural tradition

In my recent posting about most recent edition of the Adoremus Bulletin, I showed the cover photo of the publication, which is of a beautiful wall panel.

I was delighted to hear just now from the architect James McCreery whose firm was the design architect for the Thomas Aquinas Chapel of the Newman Center. He sent me this fine photo of the panel in its setting, which shows that this was a detail of an arched recess designed as a backdrop for the chapel's Baptismal font...hence the descending dove! The painting work was done by artists at the Evergreene Studios, he tells me.

He explained to me that the font itself is hand-carved oak dating from the English Arts and Crafts / Gothic Revival period of the late 19th/early 20th centuries. This is the movement that came out of the work of Pugin, Ruskin and Morris particularly.

I am an admirer of this style, what might be termed Victorian neo-gothic art and architecture. Some talk of it as though it is a pale version of what went before. I don't think of it that way at all. To me this is an authentic model of Christian art and architecture that characterizes the 19th century.

In many ways I see theirs as a lesson of how revivals ought to take place, one which can help us today. There method was one of the study of underlying principles from the great models of the past - in this case looking at gothic architecture, and gothic and romanesque art and decoration - and then the application of those principles in a comtemporary setting - the 19th century. The desire was to change as little as possible, but it was not an unthinking copying of the past. There was a willingness to modify or change those aspects that were no longer appropriate to needs of the Church of the time; and those aspects that might, when considered in humility, might be improved upon.

Now, 100 years or so later, the same process goes on. This time the model of the past is the Victorian style and the Church to which it must relate is that of the early 21st century. This is how it works!

Film review: The Intern

Entertaining, funny, easy to watch...and noble (mostly). This film offers us lessons in how to promote the New Evangelization and offer the Mass to the masses. Really, I mean it!

The Intern is an entertaining and very funny feelgood movie which has a good story and along the way reinforces good traditional values. It has greater depth than most critics give it credit for and furthermore, I think that this shows us how the mass culture could be used constructively to draw people back to the Church and the Mass more powerfully, entertainingly and in about the half the viewing time that Into the Great Silence ever could. It also shows us what the strengths of movies are in this regard.

It is not without flaws but, I suggest, these could be easily remedied and so that it could have made a strong endorsement of Catholic social teaching. I am hoping there are some Catholic film makers watching who might take note.

Any who read last week's review will be aware of my view of what makes a good film, but for those who didn't: I hate self-consciously arty films that stress character development or visual beauty at the expense of the plot. I think that all these have to be there but a movie is successful when all serves the narrative. This means that in my view the American film industry, which understands this, is superior to the British and European; and as a rule I avoid anything that has sub-titles because I assume I'm going to be bored to death. The famous line that sums up why the British film industry is so unsuccessful (a question that discussion panels on BBC Tv and radio programs have discussed ad infinitum) is that the British directors always make films to impress their friends at dinner parties and nobody else...and they do it very well.

For this film I read the reviews first and the critics seemed to split. Some found it entertaining and funny, while others disliked it for being shallow and lacking philosophical depth. Given what most film critics require to be philosophically stimulated - angst and doom - I took both types of review as an endorsement!

As it turned out it certainly wasn't self-consciously philosophical but in fact it reveals a natural philosophy of life that is, broadly speaking, good and derived from Christian principles. It doesn't feel deep because it doesn't challenge our sense of what is good, it affirms it.

The plot is simple. A retired 70-year-old business executive and widower, Ben (Rober De Niro), is bored and looking to 'fill the hole' in his life. He had already tried getting out and being involved in activities that gave him some human contact, but this was not enough. He needed to a have purpose and so he applied for a job at a new internet startup that had subscribed to a 'senior intern' program as part of a publicity exercise. He had a job interview with the 'talent acquisition' executive in which he was asked what was obviously a standard question given to all applicants, regardless of the job: 'Where do you see yourself in 10 years' time?' De Niro's perfectly timed response was, 'You mean when I'm 80?'

This being an internet startup, Ben is just about the only employee over thirty. The comic moments relate to the clash of the generations in which each misunderstands the other. Without pushing himself on them, or complaining, he gently offers his wisdom based upon life experience and the younger people around him realise that he can help them in their work and their personal lives.

Gradually, the founder and CEO of the company, Jules Austin, (played by Anne Hathaway) starts to rely on him for advice in the same way. We realise that he is filling the hole in his life not by getting a second career, but rather by being of service to all around him in the workplace. His new job is his opportunity for service. Through his example, others start to adopt his approach in what would be an otherwise cut-throat commercial environment. We see how, through his personal interractions with the people around him, he is affecting this society in microcosm for the good and helping to make it a community.

The climax of the film revolves around troubles in the marriage of Jules Austin. Her husband, a stay-at-home dad who gave up his career when the hers took off, feels neglected and retaliates badly (if you want the details you'll have to watch the film). The film does not justify the behaviour of either, however, but instead takes them to a point of reconciliation whereby each reflects on the situation and admits independently the part they have played. Each resolves to make personal sacrifices for the other and for the marriage (there is a synchronicity to it that reminds us of O Henry and Gift of the Magi).

Although the story is simple, it is believable and the wisdom imparted through it seems true. It was also very funny and I wonder how much of this is down to the great performance of Robert De Niro whose timing and delivery are impeccable.

On the negative side, there's one risque joke, which stands out in contrast with the tone rest of the film and which, unfortunately, appears in all their publicity trailers that I have seen. Also, incidental to the plot, there are moments that go against Christian morality - for example, there is some reference to promiscuity that presents it in a positive light. These are almost to be expected nowadays, sadly.

Aside from these, the major regret that I had is the writer and director, Nancy Myers, did not in some way connect the good standards to that the De Niro character lived up to to their true source - God and his Church. I wouldn't expect a scene in which a character reads a passage from the Catechism, but it would have been nice if we had found out that Ben was a virtuous man because he was a Christian. I am guessing that the reason that this was not done is that Myers doesn't believe.

However, she almost did it.

There was an allusion to spirituality, at least, as the source of his strength. In the opening scene of the film we see Ben in the park participating in a controlled exercise routine - it looked to me like the Chinese practice of Qigong. We hear him in the voiceover describing his general disatisfaction at life as we see him doing it. In the final scene of the film, all seems to have turned out well and Jules is looking for Ben at work to thank him. She is told that he took the day off. She eventually found him in the park, back with the Qidong group. There was no discussion of what he was doing or reference to it in any other way. We just saw it as an aspect of his previous life that was something good and he he wanted to retain. This was reinforced by the fact that he asked her if she wanted to join in with him before they talked, and she did so.

I don't know if this was the director's intention but occurred to me that in an understated but powerful way, what the film had portrayed was a bit of Qidong New Evangelization! She had portrayed (perhaps unintentionally) the Christian idea of the cycle of worship: the exitus and reditus (exit and return) by which we are inspired by God and are dismissed to go out to love our fellow man. Then, transformed by our love for God through man, we come back to God as greater lovers, and the positive cycle is repeated.

How wonderful this film would have been if this little detail - the topping and tailing of the film with a spiritual reference - had been a one by which he went to a beautiful Mass. And rather than joining the stretching in the park, Jules was sat silently in the pews at church contemlating what was going on and listening to Ave Verum Corpus before they left to have their conversation.

If we want to get more people back into the Church, this film is showing us, is a small way, how to do it. So, Catholic screenwriters here's your challenge! Create a Catholic version of a film like, this. Once you have your script all you need is several million dollars and Robert De Niro and you'll have a box-office hit that promotes the Faith.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thv8myYCUQE

Pictures from the Way of Beauty: Pythagoras in Raphael's School of Athens

The wall painting, the School of Athens, was commissioned by Pope Julius II from Raphael in the first part of the 16th century at the height, if you'll forgive the pun, of High Renaissance. It is considered by some as his greatest work and is part of a whole series of frescoes that decorate the wall of what were Julius's private rooms in the papal palace at the Vatican. It shows all the greats of Classical Greek philosophy.

This painting also highlights the point that for the Christian the bible is not the only source of knowledge on matters spiritual. We can get an understanding, even of God, by reason based upon information mediated from the senses. We cannot know all things this way - some things are known only because God revealed them to us through scripture, such as the existence of the Trinity. The truths that cannot be deduced by natural philosophy are called the 'mysteries' of the faith.

The two central figures in the painting are the giants of Greek philosophy: Plato, who is pointing upwards to his non- material world of ideals; and Aristotle, who points downwards and was so interested in the material world and information discerned by the senses.

In my book, the Way of Beauty, I focused on one figure in particular, who is front left: Pythagoras. Many know his name today because of his theorem that enables us to calculate the length of the third side of a right angled triangle given the length of the other two. However, he was better known in ancient Greece and by Christians up to the Enlightenment for his discernment of the spiritual significance of numerical relationships in the cosmos. Pythagoras suggested that once they are known they can become guiding principles by which the culture can manifest this cosmic beauty too, and by which a pattern of living and worship is ordered. This beautiful pattern of life is for the good of man and in harmony with the rhythms and patterns of the cosmos. Although Pythagoras's fame is great, very little is known about him directly and what we do know is handed down to us by later figures who wrote about him, such as Plato.

It may surprise many moderns that not only is the passage of the Catholic liturgy through the seasons of sacred time built on these patterns of cosmic beauty, but even today in this aggressively secular culture, the pattern of time that we live - days, weeks, months years - follows this cosmic rhythm. It is natural for man to do so. Attempts to depart from it, such as after the French revolution, caused such disruption to the society that they quickly returned to heavenly time...even if they didn't believe in it.

Plato, who lived about 150 years after Pythagoras, is shown in Raphael's portrayal carrying the Timeaus. This book refers to Pythagoras, and Plato incorporates his mystical number theory into his own account of the world. For centuries the Timeaus was the most known of Plato's works in the West. Two leading figures who brought the ideas of Pythagoras into the Christian thought and reconciling them with scripture were St Augustine and St Boethius whose lives together spanned the fourth, fifth and sixth centuries AD. Boethius, who is the later of the two, is the source I rely on most heavily in my book when describing how these Pythagorean ideas govern the beauty of the cosmos and the culture. If you look at the fresco there is a figure behind Pythagoras looking over his shoulder at the chalk board (which is a diagrammatical representation of the numerical relationships that create musical harmony). The identity of this figure is disputed, but some think that it is Boethius. I would certainly like to think that this is the case.

The medium of this painting is fresco, in which finely ground pigment is suspended in water (like clay in stream water when the bottom is disturbed). This is then painted in onto the wet plaster in multiple washes. As the plaster dries it chemically binds with the pigment and fixes it in place. It is one of the most durable of mediums and if the surface is clean the painting will look as fresh as the day it was painted. It is always difficult to paint deep shadow in fresco, as with egg tempera which is used in icons, black tends to look like soot sitting on the surface. For this reason artists tend to work in the upper register of light and frescos often have this light, airy look to them.

Pictures of the house and gardens of the Weathersfield estate in New York

This has everything I love - beautiful house, gardens, landscaped farmland views...and even a Little Oratory! I have just had an email from a former student of mine at Thomas More College of Liberal Arts, Nicole Martin who tells me that she and two other recent graduates, Amy Green and Gracey Lloyd have spent the summer at the Weatherfield estate in New York State cataloguing the art collection.

The estate is 1200 acres, 20 miles of carriage and walking trails, with a three-acre formal Italian/English medieval garden. The house is Georgian style brick and brownstone. As Nicole said to me, 'It is very beautiful and very interesting!' It certainly is.

The late owner Chauncey D. Stillman was of "old" New York money and he built up this estate in 1950's and 60's. He converted to Catholicism and gave generous donations of money to the church and Catholic organizations (including Thomas More College).

The estate website tells me that the chapel, which he called his 'Oratory' (I am liking this more and more!) contains a painting by the Spanish baroque master, Murillo; a 16th century Swabian crucifix and a mannerist painting from the school of the 16th century Greek painter based in Spain, El Greco.

What a place to spend a summer. Thank you for sharing this with us Nicole!

— ♦—

My latest book the Way of Beauty is available from Angelico Press and Amazon.

—JAY W. RICHARDS, Editor of the Stream and Lecturer at the Business School of the Catholic University of America said about it: “In The Way of Beauty, David Clayton offers us a mini-liberal arts education. The book is a counter-offensive against a culture that so often seems to have capitulated to a ‘will to ugliness.’ He shows us the power in beauty not just where we might expect it — in the visual arts and music — but in domains as diverse as math, theology, morality, physics, astronomy, cosmology, and liturgy. But more than that, his study of beauty makes clear the connection between liturgy, culture, and evangelization, and offers a way to reinvigorate our commitment to the Good, the True, and the Beautiful in the twenty-first century. I am grateful for this book and hope many will take its lessons to heart.”

September edition of the Adoremus Bulletin now out

I have just heard that the latest edition of the Adoremus Bulletin is available. As usual there are many points of interest concerning the liturgy in particular details of preparations for the liturgies for the upcoming visit of Pope Francis; and about the new translation of the Order of Confirmation.

One piece that caught my eye is the reproduction of an article by Virgil Michel, OSB written during the Depression entitled City or Farm?. In this he describes the importance of an awareness of nature and man's place within it. He is an advocate of back-to-the-land movements in the context of the typical cityscape of 1939. He describes how people were so unaware of where their milk came from that a cow was paraded through the streets of one metropolis in order to show them.

In the accompanying and thoughtful commentary the writers (the 'Adoremus Editors') point out, that this is a subject that is important 'not only for its own relevance to the life of grace generally, but as a topic supremely relevant to the celebration of and participation in the Church’s sacred liturgy'. The glory of nature directs man to God, reflects the pattern of our worship and inspires us to want to do so.

Some may feel that the cities of 2015 are not much better - I guess it depends on which city and which part the city we want to focus on. I can think of cities are at both ends of the spectrum. Nevertheless the points that Virgil Michel makes will almost certainly resonate with many today. I think that the editors hit the nail on the head when they comment on this and say: '..it must be acknowledged at the same time that the city is also a key locus for the Christian faith. It is toward the heavenly city of Jerusalem that we journey (Rev. 21:2).'

For my part, I think that the answer to the question, city or farm? is neither one nor the other but both. The ideal is a society in which each has his part to play and this incorporates city and farm...and garden! This is the glory of man in harmony with the rest of creation in which both the culture and the cultus (field) point to the cult (the liturgy) and each is derived from the forms contained within the liturgy.

The link to the Adoremus website is here; while the link through to the online presentation of the Bulletin itself is here.

 The cover image of the bulletin has wall panel from the Newman Center at Lincoln, Nebraska. Love this depiction of the dove of the Holy Spirit with the Romanesque style design behind it. This image speaks to the discussion on the Sacrament of Confirmation.

and here's the full panel in situ:

Film review: A Walk in the Woods

All films need a good story. This one is funny, it has great acting, has beautifully photographed scenery...but it isn't enough because there isn't enough plot to keep you interested.  One of running themes in the arts when I was living in Britain was about just how unsuccessful the British film industry is. We seemed to have good actors who seem to be able to compete with the Americans. Our guys cans can knock Shakespeare out the summer-festival park; and we could make great TV adaptations of Jane Austin novels and our TV advertising is much cleverer and more sophisticated and wins awards all over the world for art direction. But our film industry is a dead loss. No one seems to want to go to see the films.

One view as to why came from a Brit who directed box-office hits in Hollywood called Michael Winner (who made Death Wish films starring Charles Bronson in the 1970s). He said that the difference between British film makers and their American counterparts was that the Americans tried to make films that were commercially successful, whereas British filmmakers tried to make films that would impress their friends at dinner parties, and unfortunately that's all they manage to impress.

If you were characterize what he is getting at, British (and European film) tries to be high art, while American film tries to entertainment. I think he's right. I go to see movies because I want to be entertained first, and for all the Shakespearean talent they employ, and no matter how deep and profound the character development, often as not I find British and European films dull. I studiously try to avoid anything with subtitles. I know I'm going to find them self-consciously arty and as dull as watching paint dry...there was even Spanish film about watching paint dry called the Quince Tree Sun. This is possibly one of the dullest movies ever made. It won loads of awards of course.

What seems to be forgotten by the Europeans is that film is basically a medium for telling a story, and if you don't have a good story well told, you don't have a good film. This is the problem with A Walk in the Woods. It is an American film, but it seems to be suffering from the British disease!

It is based on the book by the travel writer Bill Bryson about walking the Appalachian Trail. I went to see it because I like Bill Bryson's books. Each one is usually a serious of very amusingly related stories and encounters. The only threads connecting each event are Bryson's presence and the place where the book is set. This seems to work in the books, but it just doesn't work in this film. There just isn't enough plot -  we want a logical transition from beginning, to middle and to end - to hold it together and it isn't there.

The jokes are funny, Robert Redford is good as the laconic, deadpan Bryson; Nick Nolte is brilliant as his bad tempered companion. The encounters with bears and with eccentric walkers in the trail are hilarious, and the scenery is beautiful. But in the end we really can't work out why these two guys who are so obviously unsuited physically for the job are trudging this 1,000 mile trail from Georgia to Maine; or what makes it interesting enough to film it. Finally, it seemed neither could the characters. It finished with Redford asking Nolte, 'You want to go home don't you?' At which point Nolte answers, 'Yes.' And they leave the trail. Nolte catches the greyhound back to the Midwest, Redford to Hanover, New Hampshire...and that's the end of the film.

It also the end of this review.

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St Matthew the Evangelist from the Lindisfarne Gospels - lessons for all who wish to pray...and for all who wish to paint

To mark the Feast of St Matthew here is the illumination from the 8th century British manuscript (the original is in the British Library). There are profound lessons here for those who wish to pray, and for those who wish to paint...or both. This simple painting, which is over 1200 years old and was created by an obscure monk working on a bleak island of the northeast coast of England in the North Sea can tell us so much. It reveals truths about St Matthew, and from its style we can discern things about the whole history of Christian art. These are lessons that budding artists can apply today, even if we want to paint in completely different styles such as the baroque.

To be able to see these things in the painting we will look first at the historical context. This little painting even tells us about the history of Britain! Art historians - (and the font of all knowledge, Wikipedia of course!) - will describe the style of this art as 'insular' or 'hiberno-saxon'. This refers to the Celtic style of art and literature of the Christians who remained in the British Isles and Ireland after the retreat of the Romans. It is viewed as 'insular' in two ways - first more literally as it belongs to the islands of Britain and Ireland; and secondly because it is often viewed as a style that is distinct from others of this period. There is a third reason particular to this gospel, in that Lindisfarne, the site of an abbey, is an remote island off the coast of Northumberland in northeast England. The artist of this painting was a monk called Eadfrith and he later became the abbot of Lindisfarne Abbey.

The British islanders who remained after the retreat of Roman troops in the 5th century were culturally Roman and so wrote in Latin. Gradually over the following centuries they were overwhelmed by the incursions of German and Nordic tribes. Even in the 8th century, there were pockets of Latin culture left and most of the Lindisfarne Gospel is written in Latin. In this page 'Mattheus' is in Latin and he is referred to as a saint with the word 'Hagios' (Greek). Matthew is depicted writing his gospel with the figure of the winged man, the symbol of Matthew, standing on his shoulder (imago hominus - the image of a man). This, is one of the four faces of the cherub described by Ezekiel in his vision. Over time Germanic and Viking culture dominated more and more and by the 9th century Latin was not so widely spoken; and so on other pages the original Latin gospel text is translated into the vernacular in red ink. The curtains are present to indicate that the person is inside and are drawn back to reveal the scene to the observer. Some commentaries refer to this as a symbolic unveiling by which the truth is revealed. I have to be honest and say I do not know who the figure peeping out from behind the curtain is. Can anyone help me here? The painting is ink on vellum, made from the skin of sheep. Vellum is a material that is resistant to decay over time and was also very expensive and so rare. This is one reason, incidentally, that so many Icelandic sagas remain I found out recently - because there were so many sheep on Iceland and such a small population, vellum was more plentiful and so unusually they recorded a much higher proportion of their folk tales on vellum and this is how we know of so many today. Tolkien was an expert in all of these ancient forms of British and of the Icelandic language and literature - so this is the world that fired his imagination so strongly. Back to this painting - the style of Lindisfarne gospels art is certainly distinctive. While retaining its unique look, it still conforms largely to the iconographic prototype, which governed Christian art, East and West from about the 5th century through to the 13th century. This is a Western variant, so while it doesn't look like a Russian icon, it still conforms in many ways to the same prototype. So this has the characteristic flatness and lack of perspective that one expects in an icons, revealing the heavenly dimension which is outside space. In order to emphasize this the bench upon which Matthew is sitting is in inverse perspective. He has his feet on a pedestal indicating a holy person. There is one little anomaly however. A feature that pulls it away from strict conformity to the icon is the fact that the symbolic winged man is in profile. Generally, in icons faces are in three quarter profile or full face (like the other two figures) indicative of a saint who is happy to reveal is person to the viewer because in his purified state he has nothing to hide. Generally images from this period conformed fully to the iconographic prototype. Here is a portrayal of the symbol of St Matthew along with those of the four evangelists in the Book of Kells, which was produced about 100 years later and is considered of the same period and style. We can see St Matthew portrayed in three quarter profile, the standard for human forms. I don't know why Eadfrith departed from this in his version. It might be a mistake or even an act of defiance, or perhaps a little bit of ignorance. There is another aspect to this and it relates to how we know what an icon is. What is it that makes an icon rather part of the gothic tradition? Anyone who has done an icon painting class or read a book about icons is aware that there are stylistic principles which govern what they do. What many do not know is that the rules that they are being given are a modern construct. They were for the most part written and popularized in the 20th century. I have researched and asked many people and am not aware of any writings prior to the recent period that represent a codification of the stylistic elements that make in icon an icon, rather than, say, a piece of gothic art. There are no writings by Church Fathers for example. The rules that you come across in the books were devised by a group of Russian ex-patriots in Paris, especially influential were two men called Ouspensky and Lossky. They looked at the images that they judged to be good and worthy of veneration and the devised a set of rules that seem to apply to them to aid people to create art in a similar style in the future. To my knowledge no such code was in existence in writing when Eadfrith was active. We do not know the degree to which the style, which seems to have been preserved by force of tradition, was directly linked to the theology of style in the way that it is presented today. Perhaps, in fact, there was more leeway than we imagine and Eadfrith was just making what would have seemed a legitimate artistic decision. Make no mistake, people such as Ouspensky and Lossky did a great job, in my opinion. they provided a set of guidelines by we have seen the re-establishment of what was in the 19th century a wayward tradition in Russian and Greece, into a strong and clearly defined form so that  icon painters today can be every bit as good as the top icon painters of the past. These Russians were not without their own agenda in setting this down however. They were Eastern Orthodox and deliberately set down the rules so as to reflect their belief that the Western forms of art were inferior ('degenerate' is the term I have heard used to refer to the gothic and the baroque for example) . Catholics should be aware of this. The idea that all sacred art has to look like an icon is, from the point of view of the Catholic Church flat wrong. Unfortunately that doesn't stop many Catholics unquestioningly accepting and repeating the anti-Catholic rhetoric that they have heard in their icon painting class. Contemporary Orthodox commentators are motivated to make Western forms that were created prior to the schism between East and Western Church (around 1000AD) , such as this example of insular art, fit in with the iconographic prototype because it supports and argument that Christian culture was unified before the schism and then fragmented afterwards. Then, the argument runs, we can see that the Eastern Churches remain faithful to the original forms of Christianity, while it is the Roman Church that has veered away. We don't have space here to give the full theology of the image that governs the Western traditions in art, but to give you a general picture of what is legitimate for the liturgy and what is not, I take my lead from Benedict XVI. He said in his book, the Spirit of the Liturgy that the icon is appropriate for the liturgy (in this he agrees with the Orthodox) but in addition, he says, for the Roman Rite, the gothic and the baroque styles are appropriate too. So you can continue to enjoy and worship with paintings in the style of people such as Duccio and George De La Tours. I would say that the one thing where the Eastern Church does lead the West is in the reestablishment of these traditions. We are 60 years behind in propogating a theology of style of the uniquely Western styles, in the way that it has been done for icons. My book, the Way of Beauty, was an attempt to do for the theory of the gothic and the baroque traditions what Lossky and Ouspensky did for the iconographic tradition. Below, classic baroque - St Matthew and the Angel by Guido Reni of the 17th century - with the angel...legitimately... in profile; and the same evangelist by Duccio

— ♦—

My book the Way of Beauty is available from Angelico Press and Amazon.

     

Film review: the War Room - portraying a suburban alternative to the Benedict Option

It also proves that Christian morality sells - the film making is not that great, but the message is good and that is why it is popular! I went to see this film because I noticed that it has been in the top three in box office receipts since it was released; and because it is clearly Christian in inspiration and is pushing a moral and spiritual message.

The War Room is about a troubled marriage in which the wife begins to pray for her husband and we see how this changes her and in turn her interaction with her husband and their daughter for the good. The plot is simple, the message is moral and uplifting and the portrayal of the prayer, if  a little on the protestant charismatic side of things for my temperament, is authentic, I think. There are no appearances of angels or visions - which while they do happen in reality are not the experience of most people in their relationship with God and so this helps to give the film a down to earth reality. The prayers are answered with happy results that work their way through via positive outcomes in ordinary events. All negative turns in the plot were neatly and happily resolved (and perhaps over simply treated).

The reviews of the film are mixed. Some critics, I sense, are reacting to the message itself which is good and overtly Christian. This can work both ways depending on the personal belief of the critic. Others do seem to be trying to detach from their personal beliefs and critique the quality of the film making. Most of the latter do not like it. Even in my inexpert opinion it could have been a lot better - the dialogue is wooden, the interplay between the characters is superficial and unsophisticated and the jokes are fairly obvious. This is no Christian Woody Allen film...but still, I do think it is worth seeing! I can see why it is popular and despite the negatives, I found myself genuinely enjoying it. I was uplifted by the message and it transmitted a strong affirming message of faith.

I am pleased that such a film was made and is so popular. What this tells me is that the market for good films is huge and if something like this, notwithstanding the negatives can be so popular, then anything that has the essential elements of truth and is at the same time well made cannot help but be a box office smash. Furthermore, it seems to me, if it were in addition overtly Catholic, then it would have the popularity of the Sound of Music and It's a Wonderful Life all rolled into one.

The 'war room' of the title is the converted closet that became he inner sanctuary of prayer. The young wife in the family posted prayer requests on the wall, prayed and then checked them when they were answered. She had been instructed by an elder mentor to develop a prayer strategy in the real war, which was not as she supposed, against her husband, but against the devil and his influence.

There is a point here for those of the Benedict Option mentality who wish to retreat from society, re-group and then emerge at some point in the future when the next Charlemagne creates a safe environment to be openly Christian. This film is about personal transformation and engagement, rather than withdrawal. I do think that retreat is needed but it is not geographical or cultural, but spiritual. The wilderness is the place where we meet the devil and we deal with him in prayer, then we emerge to engage with society wherever we are now, transformed by prayer. The inner room is the symbol of the place inside ourselves where we pray and engage with our demons. As I was watching I was thinking how a similar film could show the person engaging in the pattern of prayer described by Benedict XVI in his paper on the New Evangelization, and the person was praying not in the broom closet, but to the home altar or icon corner! The film strikes me as being closer to the Benedict XVI Option of personal transformation in Christ by which we transfigure the culture right where we are now; than it is the Benedict Option.

Interestingly, there was an, apparently inadvertent, reference to the need for praying for the dead. I don't know if the protestant film producers did this consciously but as my friend Fr Nick, with whom I went to see the film, pointed out, it probably wasn't  a deliberate pitch for the existing of purgatory (which it can only have reflected in logic). Rather, it reflected something that is innate, a desire to pray for those who are gone, which has been planted in us by God.

I doubt that this film is going to convert many non-Christians, but I think it would act to help reinforce a lukewarm faith - this seemed to be what it was trying to do. The protagonists were just that, people of faith who were not fervent until the events of the story caught up with them. Nevertheless, it is heartening that a film is of ordinary quality in other ways should be so successful. It demonstrates, perhaps, that, despite what Hollywood is supposed to believe, morality sells!

Images from the Way of Beauty: Christ Enthroned and the Quincunx - Symbolic Images of the Gospels

This week we show images, one is representational are and one is geometric art. First is Christ Enthroned. I painted this for the childrens coloring book, Meet the Angels. It went on the back cover. It shows Christ, as described in the vision of Ezekiel and the Book of Revelaton, enthroned with the four faces of the Cherubim in each corner. Around the throne also are many six-winged seraphim - just wings and faces - and who are transparent so the colours of the background show through. This is a standard iconographic image and if you look on Google images for 'Christ Enthroned' or 'Christ in Majesty' you will see many in this style. It is painted in egg tempera. The almond shape around Christ is called a Mandorla (Italian for almond!) and represents the cosmos.

The other images are examples of cut stone floorwork and are geometric designs in the 'Cosmatesque' or 'Cosmati' style. It is named after the Cosmati family which, over several generations, developed this distinctive style of work. If they were covering a large area, such as a whole church floor, they worked on three scales. For the grand form they tended to compartmentalize into rectilinear shapes. Then the sub-form would be a geometric design consisting of faceted polygons or interconnected circles. The final stage would be an infill of with very small repeated regular geometric shapes such as squares, triangles of hexagons (which are the three forms that can put together without creating gaps).

One of the standard designs is the ‘quincunx’. This the generic name for the arrangement of five equivalent shapes that has four arranged symmetrically around the fifth which is centrally place (it is also a game-winning word in Scrabble so it'll pay to remember this, if for no other reason). The five dots on dice, for example, are in a quincunx shape. I understand the name comes from the Latin for five-twelfths, a coin of this fraction value of the currency had this name and often had this arrangement of dots on it.

This one is in Westminster Abbey:

..and this is in Santa Croce in Rome:

In the context of geometric patterned art, it is the shape of four smaller circles spinning of larger secondary one was not limited to the Cosmati craftsmen. It is seen in both Eastern and Western Churches and across many centuries and was seen in Roman floor mosaics.

What is the connection between the geometric and representational forms?

The answer is that both sybolize the Word of God being taken to the world through the gospels. Around the central image of the enthroned Christ we see four figures representing the four evangelists carrying the Word to the four corners of the world. Wikipedia describes the source as follows:.

'Matthew the Evangelist, the author of the first gospel account is symbolized by a winged man, or angel. Matthew's gospel starts with Joseph's genealogy from Abraham; it represents Jesus' Incarnation, and so Christ's human nature. This signifies that Christians should use their reason for salvation.

Mark the Evangelist, the author of the second gospel account is symbolized by a winged lion – a figure of courage and monarchy. The lion also represents Jesus' Resurrection (because lions were believed to sleep with open eyes, a comparison with Christ in the tomb), and Christ as king. This signifies that Christians should be courageous on the path of salvation.

Luke the Evangelist, the author of the third gospel account (and the Acts of the Apostles) is symbolized by a winged ox or bull – a figure of sacrifice, service and strength. Luke's account begins with the duties of Zacharias in the temple; it represents Jesus' sacrifice in His Passion and Crucifixion, as well as Christ being High priest (this also represents Mary's obedience). The ox signifies that Christians should be prepared to sacrifice themselves in following Christ.

John the Evangelist, the author of the fourth gospel account is symbolized by an eagle – a figure of the sky, and believed by Christian scholars to be able to look straight into the sun. John starts with an eternal overview of Jesus the Logos and goes on to describe many things with a "higher" christology than the other three (synoptic) gospels; it represents Jesus' Ascension, and Christ's divine nature. This symbolises that Christians should look on eternity without flinching as they journey towards their goal of union with God.'

One of the reasons that the Church settled on four gospels was to emphasis this symbolism (see St Irenaeus writing in the 2nd century AD in Against Heresies). The quincunx also symbolizes Creation, as the number four represents the cosmos. The symbolism is of, again the four corners of the world - Christ spoke of the 'four winds' and the symbolism of the four points of the compass comes from this.

Sassoferrato's Virgin at Prayer - for the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary

For today's Feast of the Birthday of the Blessed Virgin Mary here is the Virgin at Prayer by the Italian artist Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato who is generally known simply as Sassoferrato. He lived from 1609 to 1685. Records of the commemoration of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary on September 8th go back to the 6th century. The Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Mary was later fixed at December 8, nine months prior.

There is a commentary on the Feast from the following information is drawn, here, by Fr Matthew Mauriello: 'The primary theme portrayed in the liturgical celebration of this feast day is that the world had been in the darkness of sin and with the arrival of Mary begins a glimmer of light. That light which appears at Mary's holy birth preannounces the arrival of Christ, the Light of the World. Her birth is the beginning of a better world: "Origo mundi melioris." The antiphon for the Canticle of Zechariah at Morning Prayer expressed these sentiments in the following way: "Your birth, O Virgin Mother of God, proclaims joy to the whole world, for from you arose the glorious Sun of Justice, Christ our God; He freed us from the age-old curse and filled us with holiness; he destroyed death and gave us eternal life.

'The second reading of the Office of Readings is taken from one of the four sermons written by St. Andrew of Crete ( 660-740 ) on Mary's Nativity. He too used the image of light: "...This radiant and manifest coming of God to men needed a joyful prelude to introduce the great gift of salvation to us...Darkness yields before the coming of light."

This painting, like the painting of Gregory the Great by Vignali, described last week, is in the baroque style of the 17th century. Again, we see the sharp contrast between light and dark symbolizing the Light overcoming the darkness, and again like the Vignali, the face is in partial shadow ensuring that this is distinct in style from a portrait (I described the reasons behind this in more detail in the earlier posting). There is an additional element here in the portrayal of the face that was not so strongly present in Vignali's painting. The facial features are highly idealized and bear the likeness of the ancient Greek classical ideal.

Sassoferrato's training and influences were all in the classical baroque school. This is a stream within baroque art that looks to Raphael from 100 years before as its inspiration. Raphael's faces, in turn, strongly reflected the classical Greek ideal and this was picked up by the Caraccis in the late 16th century (most famously Annibale) who founded a school from which most of line of influential figures in the classical baroque line emerged.

All Christian sacred art must have a balance of idealism, which points to what we might become; and naturalism which roots the image in the particular and what we see and know in the here and now. The different styles of Christian sacred art look different from each other because they look to different sources for their ideal, and because of the exact balance of idealism and naturalism they reflect. Baroque classicism is called so to distinguish it from 'baroque naturalism' in which, though still partially idealized in accordance with what is good for Christian sacred art, has a greater emphasis on natural appearances. Ribera would be an example of the naturalistic school and Poussin was one of the most famous proponents of baroque classicism.

We can see the similarities in the facial features of the Sassoferrato Virgin, Raphael's Alba Madonna (which I describe in more detail in a posting here) and the ancient Greek statue the Venus of Arles from the Louvre. This strong idealization is another way that the artist ensures that portrayal of Our Lady is a piece of sacred art and avoids it looking like a portrait of the girl from next door dressed in historical costume.

Here is the Venus of Arles:

We can see the difference between the way in which sacred art and mundane art are painted by contrasting what these works with Sassoferrato's self portrait. Notice how in the portrait the image engages the viewer much more directly and we look deeply into his eyes, the deep shadow is absent and background is blue rather than black so the contrast between light and dark is not so pronounced. There is still some shadow in the face certainly - this necessary in order to describe form - but it is not so marked. Also there is not such an obvious fusion of the natural features of the face with those of the Greek ideal as we would see in the sacred art.

Sassoferrato's Virgin is in the National Gallery in London and I have a great fondness for it, even long before my conversion, it was one of those paintings that I always made a point of going to look at every time I visited the gallery. As a gallery that has no entrance fee, I often used to just drop in for 20 minutes on my way home from work, or even sometimes just to escape the rain! The peaceful repose and expression of Our Lady, which is even more apparent if you see the original, always drew me in.

— ♦—

My book the Way of Beauty is available from Angelico Press and Amazon.

—JAY W. RICHARDS, Editor of the Stream and Lecturer at the Business School of the Catholic University of America said about it: “In The Way of Beauty, David Clayton offers us a mini-liberal arts education. The book is a counter-offensive against a culture that so often seems to have capitulated to a ‘will to ugliness.’ He shows us the power in beauty not just where we might expect it — in the visual arts and music — but in domains as diverse as math, theology, morality, physics, astronomy, cosmology, and liturgy. But more than that, his study of beauty makes clear the connection between liturgy, culture, and evangelization, and offers a way to reinvigorate our commitment to the Good, the True, and the Beautiful in the twenty-first century. I am grateful for this book and hope many will take its lessons to heart.”