Heavenly bodies, Holy practices
The following is a presentation I gave for a ‘Dominican Forum’ lunch hosted by CCLA Investment Managers in the City of London on 12 June 2018.
Fr Lawrence Lew OP looks at some of the influences, rituals and traditions from the Church and explains where they come from and their relevance in the 21st Century.
The Met Gala 2018, themed "Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination", caused some controversy in the media recently, with its haute couture outfits modelled on the iconography of saints and the sacred vestments of the Catholic liturgy.
At the same time, it served as a pointed reminder that the richness of our cultural heritage can capture the imagination even of a religiously sceptical secular world.
What does this say, then, for Catholic attempts to engage non-believers in dialogue? Should we shy away from the more exotic aspects of Catholic practice, or embrace them?
On one hand, today’s topic could be construed quite narrowly. We could limit ourselves to a discussion of the Met Gala 2018, or the exhibition – which I hope to view in August – but although I shall refer to it, I thought I should broaden the focus a little. On the other hand, to speak about culture, the dialogue of cultures and inculturation (as I had initially wanted to) seemed too broad for a short presentation.
So, this afternoon I will concentrate on material culture, that is, the objects we create and utilise and interact with. As material creatures, these objects say something about us as individuals and as a society, and they also help form us individually and collectively. This, I believe, is what the relatively new study of material culture is concerned with. When speaking about Catholic material culture, I will think principally of the things that we use in the Sacred Liturgy because this is where as individuals and as a community we create and use material objects. In particular, I am interested in how material culture can help engage people with the content of the Catholic Faith, so I shall speak a little about material culture and evangelisation. Finally, I hope to say something about the distinctiveness of Catholic material culture and belief, and the opportunity or challenge this poses in our world today.
When St Thomas Aquinas considers the necessity of the sacraments, he observes that “man is prone to direct his activity chiefly towards material things”. For it belongs to our bodily human nature to interact with material things, and we need to use tools to do things and to shape the material world we inhabit. The sacraments, therefore, are perfectly suited to our human nature as we are “led by things corporeal and sensible to things spiritual and intelligible.” However, we also make and use material things in order to express our spiritual natures, that is to say, we externalise our beliefs, our ideas, our concepts, our history, our identity. Hence, the sacramental rites and Liturgy of the Church have, over two thousand years and spanning many cultures, given rise to a rich and varied range of objects. I would include church buildings among the material objects we interact with, as well as items of clothing, liturgical vessels like the chalice, and finally, the matter for the sacraments themselves: bread, wine, oil, water.
When it comes to divine worship, the impulse has been to give the very best and finest of material culture, the most beautiful that we can muster, to God. This is fitting if we consider the effort and time taken as a sacrificial act of love for God. Moreover, giving God our best is a reflection of what God has done for us, and an act of gratitude. For God has given us this material world – “the earth and its fullness”, as the psalmist says, comes from God, and he creates it out of love. Indeed, St Thomas would say that God created the material world for the sake of us material creatures, so that he can manifest his wisdom and goodness and love to us through the vast wonder and beauty of the universe! The medieval Gothic cathedral, therefore, was often a representation of the entire cosmos offered up to God in thanks and worship. So Umberto Eco observes, as the cosmos revealed to man the glory of God, so “the cathedrals sought to reiterate this discourse: they “actualised a synthetic vision of man, of his history, of his relation to the universe… The cathedrals, the highest artistic achievement of medieval civilization, became a surrogate for nature” that tells forth the glory of God.
In a materialistic culture such as ours, the Faith-filled motivation behind a great cathedral can be forgotten or ignored. Sometimes the cathedral is viewed along Marxist terms as an example of the power of the Church who used the donations and labour of the poor to build the cathedral. Or the cathedral is said to be a symbol of the oppressive dominance of the Church in medieval society. Or one can enter a church and see only riches and wealth – many have visited St Peter’s Basilica, or even the Rosary Shrine, and then wrongly surmised that the church is rich; but from the very beginning rich works of art to beautify the Liturgy have been given to the church by pious benefactors as acts of devotion to God or a saint. Unfortunately, if one reads the world through a materialistic or corporate lens, then one can and will view church architecture purely in political-economic terms – much depends on the eye of the beholder.
The people who built the first Gothic cathedrals were aware of this. The central portal of the abbey of Saint-Denis in Paris has this inscription: “Passerby, who is stirred to praise the beauty of these doors, do not let yourself be dazzled by the gold or by the magnificence, but rather by the painstaking work. Here a famous work shines out, but may Heaven deign that this famous work that shines make spirits resplendent so that, with the luminous truth, they may walk toward the true light, where Christ is the true door”. As St Thomas said, through through “corporeal and sensible” things we are to be led to “things spiritual and intelligible”, to Christ.
In focussing upon material culture and in using them as points for dialogue with our contemporaries, then, it is vital that we keep Christ at the centre; that we allow their beauty to point us to Him who is, as St Augustine said, “Beauty so ancient and so new”. Indeed, in speaking of the created world or of things created by human invention, we can say with St Paul that “all things were created through him and for him” (Col 1:16). So, the beauty of nature, and the marvellous order and logic that scientists find in creation speak of the Logos through whom all things were made. Hence, the bejewelled Gospel book cover or the illuminated Book of Hours points to the surpassing value of the Word of God; the golden monstrance recalls the infinite value of the Eucharist. To gain Christ, St Paul had said: “I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as refuse” (Phil 3:8). And the priestly vestments, ultimately, are about putting on Christ, and acquiring the virtues of the New Man (cf Gal 3:27) as the Priest stands at the Altar in persona Christi. In speaking about icons and religious art, the use of colour also indicates what the Church truly values. Gold (found in the background of icons and mosaic domes, for example) is not, as many people tend to think, a sign of wealth. Nor was it simply to give us a pretty reflective surface for the candlelight. Gold was incorruptible – it did not tarnish – and so it became associated with the spiritual which did not corrupt and with the heavenly realm which was eternal. Hence the saints and Christ are depicted in gold robes or golden environments, as a sign of the closeness of heaven, the eternal, the spiritual. Conversely, for us blue is associated with the sky and so with heaven. Our Lady, therefore, is said to be clothed in blue. But the Bible says she is clothed with the sun, not with blue. Why then, this use of aquamarine? As the name of the colour implies, blue pigment came from across the sea, derived from lapis lazuli mined in Afghanistan. It was so costly to obtain that it was more precious than gold. Out of love for Mary, patrons asked that she be painted in blue because they wanted to give her the best, the most priceless pigments they could afford.
Unfortunately, to many non-believers (and not a few Catholics too), sacred art and architecture can all look like conspicuous consumption; sacred art and chantry chapels regarded as prestige items acquired by the rich and powerful. Indeed, the Met Gala demonstrates to us what happens when the Christocentric focus is removed from the Church’s material culture, when they are no longer used in the Liturgy for divine worship: they become mere precious objet d’art, signs of wealth, adornments for the rich and influential.
The problem, I think, is that we have been somewhat naive in thinking dialogue is achieved simply because there is a common interest or because one is interested in Catholic material culture. However, Bishop Robert Barron, who is at the forefront of dialogue with our culture, makes an observation about a problematic in this kind of assumption. He notes that the call for dialogue “has come almost exclusively from the church and not from the culture… Rarely if ever have I heard of representatives of the culture eager to submit their manner of thinking and behaviour to the discipline of the church or to make themselves intelligible to religious people”. The result is the kind of display we saw at the Met Gala. In fact, almost twenty years ago, Pope St John Paul II observed that “handing on the Gospel message in today’s world is particularly arduous, mainly because our contemporaries are immersed in cultural contexts that are often alien to an inner spiritual dimension, in situations in which a materialist outlook prevails.” So, we must beware that “culture is not the interpretative lens for the Church”. Rather, as Barron says, “it’s Christ, and everything must be read through him”.
Drawing upon Blessed John Henry Newman’s thought, Barron suggests that “a healthy Church has the power of assimilation, just as a robust organism draws into itself and adapts to its purposes certain features of its world, and it throws off other elements that would compromise or threaten its essential structure. Newman observes that an unhealthy animal will, soon enough, itself be assimilated by the stronger animals around it. So, the Church ought to reach out to the world but never allow the world to set the agenda for the Church. To assimilate is to take in what it can and resist what it must.”
Pope John Paul II said a similar thing about inculturation. It is “making the Gospel incarnate in different cultures and at the same time introducing peoples, together with their cultures, into her own community”, taking in the best of a culture but rejecting whatever is alien to the Gospel. One thinks, for example, of what St Thomas Aquinas said when he was accused of watering down the Gospel with the pagan philosophy of Aristotle. He replied: “I am turning water into wine”. Indeed, just as grace perfects nature, so a culture can and must be perfected by the Gospel. But this requires confidence in the Truth of the Gospel, a confidence that comes from studying sound theology and knowing the riches of Catholic thought and traditions well, so that we are firmly founded on Christ. At the same time, one must be attentive to the culture, and become opportunistic in using those things that are buzzing in popular culture as bridges to the Gospel, to talk about our Faith and explain Christ to the sceptical.
Finally, a thought about Catholic distinctiveness or oddity. We should beware of “beige Catholicism”. This is the dumbing down of our Faith and its traditions and our material culture so as to make it as “non-threatening, accessible, culturally appealing as possible”. However, there is something different, odd, challenging, and culture-transforming about Jesus! But, as the Dominican spiritual theologian Paul Murray says, “we preach a wine of truth that we have actually tasted ourselves, and have drunk with living faith and joy.” So, if we’re to be different, let it be a joyful, faithful difference that leads others to Jesus Christ. Let our counter-cultural Christian lives not be exercises in eccentricity and difference for its own sake, but let them bear witness to the One who makes the most crucial difference in our lives. For as Pope Blessed Paul VI said over forty years ago: “the first means of evangelization is the witness of an authentically Christian life… [for] modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.”