Franciscan at Home

Michael O’Brien (b.1948) is a contemporary Catholic writer and artist from Canada. In an interview that can be found on his website he says of himself:

‘My Catholic faith is my life. Any artist, if he is to be faithful to how he perceives the world and to the nature of his creative gifts, cannot divorce the two. To create is to love. To love is to create. This is true for all of us, regardless of our vocation, in whatever forms the human person seeks to give life; either in the private life of “Nazareth” — where most people live — or the public life of a more visible role in the shaping of society.’

In another interview he spoke of his Catholic faith at the heart of his work:

‘During the 30 years I have been a painter and writer, I have noted a distinct pattern in myself: Whenever my prayer and sacramental life grow lax, the work suffers. It may continue to be clever and even dazzling to the eye, yet it becomes more and more shallow. Here is the vine and the branches that Jesus speaks of with a certain urgency. If creators of Christian culture hope to produce work that will bear good fruit, we must draw our life from the true source — our living Savior.’

The subject of this painting is unique. The two male figures are St Joachim (father of Mary) and St Joseph (husband of Mary and foster father of Jesus). The painting draws from two traditions in art: from icons and paintings of St Joachim and his wife, St Anne (or Anna), and from paintings of the betrothal of Mary and Joseph.

The purpose of the art meditation in this issue of The Sower is to encourage every catechist in every parish to give at least one session of adult formation to help people understand the true depths of priesthood.

Pope John Paul II wrote, ‘A properly structured catechesis, directed to all the members of the Church, in addition to dissipating doubts and countering one-sided or distorted ideas about priestly ministry, will open believers' hearts to expect the gift and create favourable conditions for the birth of new vocations. The time has come to speak courageously about priestly life as a priceless gift’.[i]

The present Holy Father, Benedict XVI, has now linked priesthood to the Sacred Heart at the beginning of this year for priests – this therefore can be a focus for our catechesis. The recent document on priesthood by Pope John Paul II quoted above begins, ‘I will give you shepherds after my own heart’ (Jer. 3:15). Christ has fashioned the priesthood ‘after’ or ‘according to’ his own heart. In order to consider priests as pastors, as shepherds, we need, then, to look at Christ’s own heart.

Pope Benedict XVI inaugurated the Year for Priests on the Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, a day traditionally devoted to prayer for the sanctification of the clergy. In the first paragraph of his Proclamation Letter, the Holy Father quoted the saintly Curé d’Ars, the patron saint of parish clergy, who would often say, ‘The priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus.’

The two art works of the sacred heart of Jesus portrayed in this issue of The Sower are both found at Maryvale Institute in Birmingham, England, where the first public shrine to the Sacred Heart in the United Kingdom was established in 1814 with an indult from Pope Pius VII. Bishop Milner, the vicar apostolic who lived at Maryvale at the time, made the request for this shrine in order to help rekindle a true following of Christ in his humanity as well as his divinity and assist in developing a renewed awareness of Christ’s great love for sinners. Bishop Milner regularly gathered his seminarians and newly-ordained priests at the chapel to lead them himself in prayers for peace, for the Pope’s intentions, and for prayers against heresy. Both Bishop Milner and the Curé d’Ars well understood that only by revealing such a loving heart could priests make God’s presence known to their own congregations.

‘Behold I stand at the door and knock; if any man hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.’ (Rev.3:20). It was this verse from the Book of Revelation that inspired William Holman Hunt, a founder member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, to paint this picture in 1851, to repeat the painting in 1900, and eventually to become a Christian.

In his 2009 Letter proclaiming the Year for Priests, Pope Benedict XVI quotes a passage from the writings of the Cure d’Ars, St John Vianney, the Patron Saint of Parish Priests, which resonates with the above text from Revelation: ‘The priest holds the key to the treasures of heaven. It is he who opens the door.’

The metaphor of the door links the two passages, and both implicitly allude to Christ’s Eucharistic Presence, which is our greatest treasure. Accordingly, Hunt’s Light of the World is an appropriate painting for these Art Notes, which are intended to link with the Year for Priests.

An important aim of the artists of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, founded in 1848, was to produce religious paintings which combined Naturalism and realistic Representation with easily accessible symbolism, designed ‘to elucidate, not to mystify, truth.’ Hunt’s painting achieves this goal admirably.

In order to understanding the full scope of this fresco by Filippino Lippi of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary into heaven , look firstly at the insert picture of the whole wall. There is no doubt that this is an extraordinary background scene for contemplation during the sacrifice of the mass that takes place on the altar directly in front of this back wall of the chapel. The artist Filippino Lippi, writing about Cardinal Carafa his patron, said about this painting: ‘he goes to great expense for it, sparing nothing’.

You can see from the insert that the central scene is the depiction of the annunciation within a temple structure. This is the scene which is placed immediately above the altar. It is painted in such a way that it also sits directly in front of the whole drama of the assumption taking place above, behind and all around it. For example, one end of the empty tomb of Our Lady can be seen on the left with St Peter crouched down behind it. While on the right, you can see St John in the red cloak gazing upwards to meet the gaze of Mary as she looks tenderly down to him.

This painting of the Assumption is a fresco by Filippino Lippi, son of the great painter Filippo Lippi, made in about the year 1485. It is to be found in the Cardinal Carafa funerary Chapel dedicated to St Thomas Aquinas in the Church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome. Owned by the Dominican Order, it is the Church in which the tertiary Dominican, St Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) is buried, together with another great Dominican, Blessed Fra Angelico (1387-1455). It is also the titular Church of England’s Cardinal. ‘Sopra’ means ‘over’: the Church is built over a Roman temple to the goddess Minerva. Lippi includes pagan temple architecture in his painting, but the pagan temple now is ‘for’ Our Lady, rather than for the pagan goddess Minerva.

This fresco painting is positioned in the top half of the back wall of the chapel. The colours of fresco painting are particularly durable, since they are chemically bonded and integrated into the underlying plaster. They are, however, vulnerable to damp, and sadly moisture has marked and damaged the painting in several places.

There are three useful catechetical points which we can make concerning this doctrine of the Assumption of Mary.

This is a very strange little picture and for some, perhaps, not very attractive. It is not well drawn or painted and the blue paint is flaking off in places although it is not old. The figures of the disciples are roughly drawn and the two figures in the front are placed with their feet dangling a little foolishly as they perch on the edge of their respective benches. There are other scenes of the Last Supper in the Compendium rather more finely painted, and there are other icons of this style executed with greater dignity and care. So why has this depiction been chosen? It is intriguing that such a poor, strange painting should be used for a Compendium for the universal Church. It must be a painting with such value for us that despite its ‘poverty’ it is presented to the whole Church for enlightening our faith, and to shed light especially on Part Three, our life in Christ.

At first glance, this Last Supper might appear to be an ancient Byzantine painting. In fact, it is an illustration from a book of the four gospels, called a Tetraevangelo (four Gospels), by the nineteenth and twentieth century artist, Jacob Copista (1849-1914).

his Last Supper comes at the end of Part Two and the beginning of Part Three of the Compendium. Here, again, is placed another liturgical, Eucharistic scene. We have already seen one, as expected, at the opening of Part Two, the part concerning the celebration of the Christian Mystery and for section two of that same part, introducing the seven sacraments. There is another liturgical piece of art in the part on prayer, section one, prayer in the Christian life. In other words the Eucharistic liturgy is essential for the healthy nourishment of our daily prayers and, here, for our daily living and relating to others. The reason why this scene is placed here is made clear in the text on the back of the picture: ‘The Eucharist is communion with Jesus and spiritual food to support the faithful in his daily struggle to keep the commandments’.

Mosaic by artist Fr. Marko Ivan Rupnik S.J.

To view this picture with the mind of the artist one must start at the very top centre of the mosaic at the scene of the nativity. From here, as your eye descends in a straight line through the different scenes to the very base of the wall, follow the artist’s own explanatory words which he provides for us in his book, The Colour of Light: ‘From the Father’s “womb” to the Virgin’s womb, from the grotto in Bethlehem to the grotto-tomb that is the Jordan, to the womb of death, Sheol. Kenosis is God’s abasement in Jesus Christ, true God and true human, descending to the ultimate abysses of evil and death’.

The artist is presenting for us the marvellous condescension of God who, in Christ, comes among us in littleness and mercy, descending to the very depths in order to raise us up.

Mosaic by Fr Marko Ivan Rupnik S.J.

Looking at the mosaic in more detail, we see certain unusual features in its composition.

Here we can see the pieces of mosaic, called tesserae, more clearly. At the Aletti Study and Research Centre, Rome where this mosaic was made, all the pieces are cut by hand to ensure natural irregular shapes and textures and only natural coloured marble is used. For strongly coloured highlights, such as the pupils of the eyes, an ancient method of making resin is used instead.