Before every Mass, it is appropriate, even necessary, for me to spend time preparing to approach God. In these moments, I need to examine the state of my soul in relation to the Divine. During every Mass, there are several opportunities for me to ponder the ways the Lord is moving close to me, beckoning me closer to Him, and asking me to make room for the grace He desires to give. While examining my soul and preparing for the movements of grace, art can be a powerful tool that opens up deeper and richer encounters with the Lord.
Two memorable statues serve as iconic examples of this phenomenon because they invite me to consider the state of my soul as I approach the throne of grace and make my offering to the Almighty. The first is Winter, by Jean Antoine Houdon, which resides at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. This sculpture depicts a young woman with a thin shawl draped over her shoulders, contracting her body tightly to hold onto the last vestiges of warmth. This is a spiritual posture that I sometimes, even often, bring to the worship of God in the Mass: I feel cold and distant; I have very little capacity to hold in the warmth that is there. And yet, God invites me, beckons me. He is ready still to meet me there, despite my huddled and shivering spirit.
Steve Auth, a Catholic author known for his reflections on art, uses this statue to put a visual image on the secular culture that surrounds us. The culture is often cold and ruthless, forgetting the basic human need for love and warmth. Economic “security” or popular entertainment provide a very thin shawl against physical deterioration, psychological discouragement, and spiritual despair. When we feel as though we live in this spiritual winter, we need to find sources of light and warmth and love that fill our spirits. We need a way to “come in out of the cold,” Auth says. “In a culture increasingly devoid of faith, the Mass is our cure, our nourishment, our lifeline to the Divine.”
The second sculpture is Le Penseur (The Thinker), by Auguste Rodin, which resides in Paris, France, and is among the best-known bronze sculptures in the world. Rodin’s statue depicts an older man in what seems to be anguished thought. Perhaps he is pondering the value of his life’s attitudes and actions. Perhaps he is pondering whether he has made a generous gift of his life to build up others. Again, Auth ruminates, guiding a thinker to deeper exploration and connection: “Could it be that [the thinker]’s finally realized, too late, what it takes to get to Heaven, and that he simply doesn’t have an ounce of it in him? That he’s spent his whole life loving himself, and no one else…?”
Certain parts of the Mass appropriately bring me to ask these questions as well. Specifically, it is appropriate and fruitful to turn my mind and heart in this direction during the Presentation of the Gifts (when the collection basket generally passes through the pews) and during the offering prayer, called the Anamnesis (“We offer you in thanksgiving this holy and living sacrifice”). What holy and living sacrifice do I offer to the Heavenly Father, in union with Jesus’ perfect sacrifice? Am I offering as much as I can on any given day?
The brief reflections above are the result of pondering two pieces of art for mere moments. There is so much more to receive and unpack just from these two sculptures, let alone by expanding the art under consideration. Thus, as a lover of sacred liturgy and sacred art, I am thrilled that Auth and his co-authors have produced Visions of the Divine: An Artistic Journey into the Mystery of the Eucharist. The result for the reader is the conclusion that “art and the Eucharist are linked in a very beautiful, very profound way” (p. 14). Along with liturgy, “art is the place where the Creator and the created can meet” (p. 164). I cannot recommend this insightful and beneficial volume emphatically enough. It surely is a helpful tool for a deeper appreciation of art, an avenue to enter more deeply into the mystery of the sacred liturgy. It is a path to a deeper encounter with the Lord through beauty and worship.
This special book considers other memorable pieces of art that connect to specific moments of the liturgy, artistic works that draw worshipers more deeply into the mystery at hand. One of these is the Orvieto Cathedral, a great Gothic cathedral constructed from 1310 to 1330 with paintings from the Renaissance era. From the stone sculpture reliefs around the outside of the structure, to the beautifully ornate baptismal font, to the rose window surrounded by reliefs of the apostles, to specific paintings (The Resurrection of the Flesh and The Elect in Paradise), this structure reveals the Nicene Creed in stone and paint. Just as the Creed is forged in stone in Orvieto, are the foundational truths of Christianity forged into my life? Do people know Christianity from watching me?
Salvador Dali’s Christ of St. John of the Cross is another piece of art employed by the author to provide a visual reminder to Mass-goers of where their hearts ought to be during a particular liturgical movement. This painting occupies one of the final pages of the book, and the author relates it to the final Sign of the Cross I make as I exit the church nave. In the painting, Jesus Christ on the Cross hovers over the whole world and, in some way, provides the light source for the world. Jesus also separates the known world and the unknown that is beyond. The image is apropos, whether He signifies the separation of light and darkness, or whether He serves as the Gate to the unknown and glorious eternity we desire. In either consideration, it is the Crucified Christ that must reign over my mundane life outside of Mass and must be my doorway to eternal blessedness.
There are still more helpful tools contained within this book. Two such tools are appendices after the text. The first is a catalogue of the specific pieces art depicted in this book related to the specific parts of the Mass; and the second is a catalogue of all the art included in the book, listed by the respective cities in which they reside. These appendices are intended to help me delve deeply into the sacred liturgy at every moment, and to facilitate my artistic pilgrimage in many great cities around the world.
After the great mystery that the book reveals, perhaps the best part of this book is the material product itself. This volume is absolutely beautiful, printed on sturdy paper with full-color art. It is worthy of occupying a prominent place in any disciple’s library or, even better, accompanying any worshiper at Mass. Anyone who picks it up to read and study will surely be enriched and inspired. Most importantly, perhaps, the reader will be well equipped to begin his or her own artistic pilgrimage to a deeper devotion to the Eucharist, both in the local parish and around the world.
Editor’s Note: This article was inspired by Visions of the Divine: An Artistic Journey into the Mystery of the Eucharist by Stephen Auth, available from Sophia Institute Press.
Photo by Fr. Barry Braum on Unsplash