Franciscan at Home

Master of the St. Lucy Legend, c. 1485/1500

"The ultimate end of the whole divine economy is the entry of God’s creatures into the perfect unity of the Blessed Trinity…even now we are called to be a dwelling for the Most Holy Trinity,” teaches the Catechism of the Catholic Church. (Par. 260)

The one creature who most uniquely entered into the perfect unity of the Blessed Trinity was the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God. From the moment of her Immaculate Conception to her Assumption and Coronation as Queen of Heaven, Mary was the pure and sinless dwelling of the Most Holy Trinity. An exquisite 15th century painting from the National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, titled Mary, Queen of Heaven, invites us to contemplate the unique and intimate relationship of the Mother of God to the Blessed Trinity. The beautiful image also invites us to imitate Mary, so we may grow in communion with each of the Divine Persons of the Blessed Trinity as she did.

Queen of Heaven, Rejoice! Alleluia!
One of the traditional Marian antiphons for the Easter season is the beautiful exclamation, Queen of Heaven, Rejoice! Alleluia! In this large panel painting we have the perfect image to accompany that Easter hymn of praise to Mary.

For we see the Blessed Virgin Mary at the center of the composition, clothed in gold trimmed robes of red and dark blue. Mary’s serene oval face is framed by delicate locks of wavy hair, and her hands are folded in a gesture of prayer and contemplation of the mystery of her divine Son. The panel is the work of an artist known simply as the Master of the Saint Lucy Legend, because his most famous work—an altarpiece from 1480—showed episodes from the life of Saint Lucy. In this masterpiece, the artist captures three aspects of Marian theology in a single painting of intense color, remarkable movement, and ornate texture: first, the Assumption of Mary; second, her Immaculate Conception signified by the crescent moon under her feet; and third, her Coronation as Queen of Heaven.

Norwegian painter, Carl Frithjof Smith, is not a well-known artist today. Despite his lack of fame, his art is beautiful and worthy of recognition and study. Smith lived and worked for all of his adult life in Germany, until his death in 1917. After studying at the then thriving Academy of Fine Art in Munich, Smith took a teaching position in Weimer, Germany, where he remained for most of his life. His work consists mainly of portraits and genre paintings.

Genre painting explores the sphere of a person’s ordinary activity. Focusing on scenes from daily life, these works delve into human interactions, often enticing us to examine our own everyday moments in a more thoughtful manner. The genre painter must be someone in touch with the inner psyche of others. In what is perhaps his most famous work, After First Communion, Smith triumphs at this craft, presenting a scene that is rich in human feeling and meaning.

In the painting we see Mass participants spilling out of a church door on the left, down steps, and onto the street. This crowd consists mainly of young girls. What is most striking about this painting is the dazzling white of the girls’ ceremonial dresses. Worn at baptism, first Eucharist, and marriage, white garments symbolize the purified soul of the believer. The gray stone of the church contrasts with the vibrant white of the girls’ garments. There is an ethereal feel to the work that is anchored by the darker tones of the church and the garments of fellow parishioners. Smith balances the careful study of figures with a soft atmospheric treatment of the subject matter. This interplay is particularly clear in his treatment of the background compared to the foreground. The subject matter is clear and well described, and the use of contrast is greater in the foreground, while soft colors and brushstrokes are used in the background. His art is considered to be a middle way between rigid academism and airy plein air painting. While the general feel of the painting is lovely and pleasant, the expressions and interactions of the subjects are what draw us deeper into the work.

How does God make order and beauty in the world, and show it to us? Along with glorious sunsets and colorful flowers, there are other ways to know God as the Creator of beauty. In the apparently invisible realm of mathematics, he is not silent; rather he conveys his order and mystery in mathematical forms, contemplated and understood as meaningful and expressive of his Divine Mind. Hidden in plain sight, those embedded forms can be seen inside of nature in things like symmetries, tessellations, crystals, and plant growth patterns. Those forms can also be incarnated in artwork, which is an area of creative interest for some artists. One of those artists is Piero della Francesca.

Piero della Francesca (1415-1492) was an Italian Early Renaissance painter recognized as an artist with an interest in both religious art and mathematics. He was born into a noble family in Sansepolcro (modern-day Tuscany). After an apprenticeship, he became familiar with the art of some of the highly regarded artists of the day: Masaccio, Donatello, Fra Angelico, Brunelleschi, and others. Piero is known not only as a Renaissance artist but also an authority on mathematics, writing books on geometry, perspective, and proportion. Mathematics and proportion have been embedded in architectural ornamentation since Vitruvius, the ancient Roman architect. Sacred artists and designers made use of much of this knowledge throughout the Middle Ages. The interest in a “Divine Proportion” heated up in the time of the Renaissance when Luca Pacioli, an Italian mathematician and Franciscan friar, wrote his treatise titled On the Divine Proportion, and had it illustrated by his student, Leonardo da Vinci. Pacioli had been a student of Piero della Francesca and developed ideas he gained from Piero, especially those which deals with proportion and proportionality.

Finally, I realized that love includes every vocation, that love is all things, that love is eternal, reaching down through the ages and stretching to the utmost limits of the earth. – Saint Thérèse of Lisieux

Catechetical ministry involves ongoing discernment of God’s loving initiative and the human response of faith to God who reveals. This dimension of catechetical activity is brought to life in an exquisite masterpiece painting titled, Woman Holding a Balance, by the 17th century Dutch master artist Johannes Vermeer. Completed in 1664, this evocative work offers a visual meditation on the art of discernment in catechesis and in the spiritual life.

Much of Vermeer’s artistic creativity was focused on genre paintings of close domestic scenes infused with extraordinary spiritual depth. His masterful handling of light and refined compositions draw forth hidden spiritual realities radiating from the calm household scenes, gentle figures, and delicate colors emanating from his remarkable canvases.

William-Adolphe Bouguereau’s work consists of over 800 paintings and focuses on classical and religious subject matter. We can appreciate his mastery of technique in this painting of “The Holy Women at the Tomb,” set on the morning of Christ’s resurrection. It illustrates well the mystery of the resurrection and is a window into the first announcement of Christ’s triumph over the grave. We will use this work to dive deeper into this particular scene and explain how the composition creates a contrast between death and life.

This scene depicts four figures, three women and an angel, completed in the Realist style. We will focus on Mark’s account of the resurrection, since his Gospel names three specific women who went to the tomb the morning of Christ’s resurrection. The Gospel writer tells us these women are, “Mary Mag′dalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salo′me” (Mk 16:1). Just three days prior, they must have experienced immeasurable distress as they witnessed Christ’s passion and death by crucifixion. Their dark clothing and expressions marked by grief illustrate the toll of his death upon them.

The event depicted in the painting takes place on the Sunday morning after the Sabbath, following Christ’s crucifixion and hurried burial, which was due to the approaching Sabbath. Jewish custom would have prevented any of Jesus’ followers from tending to his body on the Sabbath. Therefore, these women returned to Christ’s tomb to anoint his body at the first permissible moment. The Gospel tells us, “And very early on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen” (Mk 16:2). The rising sun can be interpreted as a symbol of hope. The morning sun has also been interpreted as a symbol of rebirth by many past cultures. It seems to foreshadow what the women will encounter.

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In the Gospels, the sisters Martha and Mary are described as friends of Jesus. In his masterpiece, “Christ in the House of Martha and Mary,” the Dutch master Jan Vermeer paints an extraordinary image of the Gospel scene when Jesus enters the home of his friends. Vermeer’s image offers us a powerful visual homily on what it means to be a friend of Jesus, an invitation that is implicit in all catechetical activity and is the goal of the spiritual life.

A Special Guest
In the tenth chapter of his Gospel, Saint Luke tells us that Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him (10:38-42). Her sister, Mary, sat close to Jesus at his feet, listening attentively to his words. In frustration, Martha, burdened and distracted with multiple tasks of hospitality, comes to Jesus and says, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.”

Jesus responds with powerful words, “Martha, Martha,” he says, “you are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”

As a true friend, Jesus listened to Martha’s complaint and then spoke plainly and from the heart. Martha had to learn that true hospitality does not merely consist in multi-tasking with its endless distractions and demands. To truly welcome him into her home Martha needed, first and foremost, to encounter Jesus personally, to grow in communion with him through attentive listening. Being in Jesus’ presence was more important than doing many tasks, however necessary they were. Active service of Jesus needs to be rooted in silent contemplation.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s monumental fantasy novels, The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings (1954-55), have a great deal to teach about friendship. Many readers first encounter these works in adolescence, when our first encounters with friendship are forged—and, unfortunately, tested and maybe broken—by fallen humanity.

But even if we first came to Tolkien in adulthood, we can recognize the appeal of his stories to the notion of fellowship. The appeal lasts not only because the book presents shining images of stalwart friendships among its characters, but also because the book itself can be a friend in moments of friendlessness.

I’m not suggesting that the solace of a great book like The Lord of the Rings can ever replace the incarnate personhood of human beings that true friendship requires. But I think that the reason it seems like it can is that Tolkien gives us literary friendships that can seem more real than our “merely human” ones because of Tolkien’s Catholic conviction that there is a transcendent grace that lifts the “merely Hobbit” or “merely Elvish” friendships out of their mundane limitations.

Many Tolkien scholars have argued that Tolkien’s fantasy is successful because he can convince the reader that elves and rings of power and seeing-stones and wizards are real. But I think that the greatest literary magic of Tolkien is his ability—founded on his fervent belief—to convince the reader that friendships that cannot be broken by the fires of hell really exist.

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Put Out Into the Deep – The Call of Missionary Discipleship

Missionary discipleship begins and grows in union with the person of Jesus Christ. This reality of faith comes to life in vivid color and dramatic movement in this the 16th century large-scale masterpiece painting titled, The Miraculous Draught of Fishes, by Venetian artist, Jacopo Bassano. Completed in 1545, Bassano’s canvas is a visual catechesis on the source and inspiration of missionary discipleship as it finds rich and varied expression in the Christian community.

“Duc in altum”—“put out into the deep” (Lk 5:4). Jesus’ call to discipleship addressed to Simon Peter and the disciples is recounted in a familiar Gospel story. The disciples had fished all night on the Lake of Gennesaret with little success. Understandably, the fishermen were exhausted from their physical labors, and drained mentally and spiritually.

“Duc in altum”—“put out into the deep” (Lk 5:4). Jesus’ call to discipleship addressed to Simon Peter and the disciples is recounted in a familiar Gospel story. The disciples had fished all night on the Lake of Gennesaret with little success. Understandably, the fishermen were exhausted from their physical labors, and drained mentally and spiritually.

At one time or another, every Christian disciple has shared in the wearied condition of those first disciples. Daily work can be both fulfilling and wearisome, rewarding and draining. Catechists also know well both joy and discouragement in ministry and in the hearts of those being catechized. Jesus addresses his call to his wearied disciples then and to us today.