The Artist Priest

We kneel at the altar, our hands cupped, palms up to receive the sacrament. The priest presses a wafer onto my fingers.

"The body of Christ, the bread of heaven," he says.

I lift the wafer to my tongue, crack it between my teeth.

A white-clad chalice bearer follows the priest. She dips the cup to my lips. "The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

The wine rinses the bits of wafer from my mouth, washes down my throat. With bowed head, I cross myself, lingering for a moment before returning to my pew.

In this way, with a community of believers (and, most likely, unbelievers), I experience the presence of God. This, in essence, is what the sacraments are: the presence of God. In turn, as a member of the Body of Christ, I am called to live sacramentally so as to incarnate Christ's presence in the world around me.

We are a royal priesthood. We walk among bearers of the Imago Dei, corrupt though they may be, ensconced in the daily habits of the world, as sacraments offered to humanity.

So then, how do we as artists offer our gifts and work sacramentally in the world so that by our art we make God's presence known?

Some thoughts:

First, an artist does not have exclusive rights to this term as priest, though we like to think of ourselves as specially called. I believe this is an important distinction. I do not have a pass to everyday life, an image retained from the suffering genius of the Romantic era. I pay my bills. I wash my dishes (mostly). I yank weeds out of my garden. I volunteer at church and in the community. I submit to God and Church. Without these daily rituals through which I experience and view humanity (my own and others), my art suffers.

Second, unlike Socrates' philosophers who elucidate for the masses the true meaning of the shadows on the wall, our work is more than interpretive. It is presence. We do not function merely to tell people what life really is. We work through it with them. Christ did more than a sermon on a mount. He ate with people, cried with them, and I imagine, laughed with them, too. He shared their frustrations and hurt. In this way, Christ transforms the world through us, his sacraments.

When someone once asked me why I write, I answered, "I write so others may know they're not alone." (At the time, I didn't realize I was appropriating C.S. Lewis who said that we read so we may know we're not alone. Probably some subconscious thing.) There is a communal aspect to our work, where we engage with and discover alongside of our readers, listeners, viewers.

This is not to say that the interpretive element doesn't exist in the priesthood, or even in the life of the artist. But to focus exclusively on it neglects our roles as sacrament.

Third, the sacraments as the presence of God have been ultimately fulfilled in the person of Christ, who wore the ugliness of the world in order to stand victorious and offer redemption. Our art, to fully embrace beauty, which is to say embrace truth, wears the ugliness of the world in order to stand victorious and offer the wafer of redemption.

Fourth, the sacraments of baptism, confirmation, and Eucharist work together as one unit, each capturing different aspects of the Christian life. No single work of art can fully embody Christ, his work, and each human's response to Christ. We do so in pieces, in hints and echoes. We create kaleidoscopes that others spin with the hopes of catching a glimpse of the person and work of Christ. In other words, we do not hold the full weight of showing every aspect of the gospel (gospel, meaning every aspect of humanity and the full work of God as he enters humanity and his creation) in every work of art. Some art shows hope rejected, some hope embraced. Some depict the mire of sorrow. Another dances in the delight of beauty. This frees us to focus on the aspect we explore and to give grace to others as they explore different aspects (or the same aspect from a different approach).

As we think about our lives and art as sacrament, I'd love to hear additional thoughts on how this affects you.

Heather A. Goodman washes dishes, struggles to keep up with the laundry, and stays up too late reading (just one more chapter . . .). Like any other human. She also creates art.

Comments

[Jeanne Damoff]

Love this, Heather. "No single work of art can fully embody Christ, his work, and each human's response to Christ. We do so in pieces, in hints and echoes." Yes. Also love: "Our art, to fully embrace beauty, which is to say embrace truth, wears the ugliness of the world in order to stand victorious and offer the wafer of redemption."

Lovely. No additional thoughts to share at the moment, but I may be back after I've done the dishes and laundry.

xo

[Miz Melly]

This is truly lovely and really spoke to me today. Thanks Heather!

[Chris]

Beautiful

[deidra]

We need those daily rituals, don't we? Even the putting them off is useful. I love this perspective you've given on art - life, even - as sacaramental. An offering. Giving back what we've been given. Freely.