Liturgical Art
Liturgical Art: A Distinction and Direction
Rev. Dr. Donald P. Richmond
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”The arts help liturgical mystery to become visible and effective.” [1]
These words by Bishop Albert Rouet highlight an important distinction in liturgical art. This distinction is critical to both the assembly and to the artist. The misunderstanding or misapplication of this distinction will inevitably result in the artist, the liturgical art, and the worshipping assembly failing to achieve the purposes for which they were each intended. Without understanding and honoring this distinction, the artist fails, art is compromised, and the assembly fails to enter into the fullest experience of worship. Without this distinction, liturgical art loses its purpose and its power.
The distinction that Rouet makes in this short quotation (a distinction which he does not directly capitalize upon within his book except, possibly and briefly, on page 76) is between art that makes mystery visible and art that makes mystery effective. These are critical categories with far-reaching implications. An artist can make a mystery visible, and to some degree this is a primary responsibility of the liturgical artist. This does not mean, however, that this art is effective. On the other hand, an effective work of liturgical art that is efficacious in helping the assembly participate in the mystery of God’s revelation will always be visible. Liturgical arts empower the assembly to participate in the mystery (viability), not just observe mystery (visibility).
While many examples can be stated, it is the art of words — both written and spoken — to which I wish to turn our attention. Words are important, both in life and in liturgy as life. Words can build up or they can be used to break down. As the proverb says, life and death are in the power of the tongue. This is especially the case when it relates to liturgy, most especially when we appreciate that the Liturgy of the Word constitutes the first half of the service of worship. The well-spoken or well-written word can have redemptive value in that they can both purify [2] and transform people. Properly communicated words empower the assembly to enter the mystery, not just observe it.
The difficulty, however, is in discerning which words are effective. Are words spoken by a competent orator more effective than those words spoken by a person who cannot capably communicate? Is a butchered liturgy as effective as one competently communicated in both word and action? Is the beautifully crafted The Saint John’s Bible more effective in communicating the liturgical mystery than my wife’s battered and worn New American Standard Bible? Similarly, do John Nava’s tapestries which hang at Our Lady of Angels in Los Angeles more capably reflect the mystery than a tapestry created in Sunday School by first graders? Is a hymn written by St. Ephrem the Syrian more effective than one written by Charles Wesley or by my good friend, Dr. Thomas Miller? Or, again to change the artistic genre, is a Rublev icon more effective in communicating the mystery than Grunewald’s Isenheim Altarpiece?
These questions are not, when probed, easily answered. Each of these works of art does, of course, make the mystery visible. A Rublev icon and Grunewald’s Altarpiece both communicate the story; they make the story visible. But does one make it more dynamically viable than the other? I think, from the perspective of the Eastern Orthodox, the icon is far more viable than a piece of well-crafted religious art. But, then again, who is to decide authoritatively between the two?
If we are genuinely concerned about the intersection of the arts and liturgy, that is of communicating not just visibly (or verbally) but also viably, an adequate solution must be proposed. Liturgical art is effective (i.e. viable) in communicating God’s mystery only to the level of its correspondence with its liturgical source, the structure it follows, and the end to which it aims. If source, structure, and end are not honored, the artistic product may be beautifully crafted work, but not theologically viable in communicating Divine mystery.
The Source
The source of all viable liturgical art is God’s written revelation, the Bible. Without the revelation of God, we would have no viable way of knowing God [3]. The moment we abandon our biblical foundation is the moment our art abandons viability.
An example of this can be found in the First Covenant where God commanded the craftsmen to design the temple — both artistically and architecturally. These craftsmen were not given an absolutely free hand. They could not do whatever they wanted to do. They had to follow a pattern. God spoke, and they responded. If they had not responded properly, the presence of God in both tabernacle and temple would have been compromised. That is, the viability of the art form to communicate the mystery would have been compromised. To alter the illustration but for a moment, we cannot offer the fruits and nuts of our own best intentions when God asks for the strong meat of our artistic obedience and integrity (Genesis 4: 1-8).
This does not in any way mean that the artist need be Bible-bound, or that God does not afford the liturgical artist some form of artistic autonomy. God said that the temple had to fit a certain pattern, but the artists were given some freedom as to its decoration. It appears that in regard to foundational issues, there was a specific pattern to be followed; whereas there appears to have been some freedom in decoration (2 Chronicles 2 - 3) [4]. The source of every Christian liturgical art is the Bible, and it is a practical correspondence to this text which determines the viability of what we produce.
The Structure
What is the structure that liturgical art must follow? It must correspond (again the Bible being crucial to process and product) with the purpose and process of worship. Dr. Robert E. Webber, previously of Wheaton but now with the Institute for Worship Studies, suggests a fourfold structure: “Gathering, Word, Thanksgiving [Eucharist], Sending forth.” [5] This process is to help the participant enter into the presence of God, to help us recognize the perpetual presence of God among and within the worshipping assembly. As such, liturgical art will act as a spiritual usher, moving the participant more fully into the presence of God.
Once again, to compromise this pattern is to compromise the viability of the liturgical art-form we use. This is not to suggest the there is not a freedom of interpretation (within limits) and application to be enjoyed. Quite to the contrary. When we honor the pattern, we are free to play. In fact, when we honor the pattern, we are most free to play.
Such an orientation provides many open doors to the worshipping community. When the essential structure remains in place, there are many opportunities to be innovative in our approach. Although the structure and essential substance of our worship will remain fixed, the liturgical forms used will change from place to place, culture to culture, generation to generation and taste to taste. [6] I tend to appreciate more contemplative forms of liturgical worship, and an almost Zen-like scarcity of decoration. Quiet “works” for me, and helps me more fully enter the presence of God. I follow the liturgical color schemes, but find more explosive forms of worship distracting. However, I have no argument with those who are more demonstrative, and with assemblies which use a variety of art forms and expressions — as long as the structure and substance which are rooted in the source remain intact.
Consequently (although I know that many would disagree) I find that some of Makoto Fujimura’s art — although brilliant, moving, decidedly Christian, and well-executed — is not suited to a liturgical setting. Even The Trinity or January Hour — Epiphany tend to distract from the central act of worship. On the other hand, Sandra Bowden’s word-centered pieces (Heavens Declare or Abyss) are quite suitable to liturgical worship. These, quite obviously, are my own personal assessments. Nevertheless, in spite of my opinions, I can understand why some people might disagree with my evaluations. There is room to disagree, as long as the essentials are in place.
The End
A number of years ago a friend of mine and I were discussing the importance of words in prayer. [7] His position was that words did not matter. His wife, also a friend, suggested that it was only the heart that mattered. This is an unfortunate and ill-informed position. God uses words. Holy Scripture consists of words. The liturgy of the Church insists that we take words seriously. Moreover, although God does indeed see the intention of the heart, dog is not God unless we want to engage in some twisted form of spiritual dyslexia. Liturgical art — regardless of whatever medium it uses — is not the place for spiritual dyslexia. The way by which we reach the end is as important as the source and the structure.
What is the end of liturgical art? The word liturgical determines its source, structure and end. The end of liturgical art is the proper corporate worship and enjoyment of God. If it does not support this, it has missed its purpose and the artist has left (at least in the execution of this piece of work) her calling. Consequently, there are some very excellent art-forms that, while they may be entirely Christian in orientation, are inappropriate to the worshipping assembly. Those who create liturgical art-forms by necessity restrict themselves. To some degree, like the theologian (because liturgical artists of every variety are theologians), liturgical art is birthed through the needs of the worshipping community. As a result, the liturgical artist is first a “priest” who helps the assembly move ever closer toward the altar of worship while, at times simultaneously, being a “prophet” who faithfully challenges the status quo of the community.
Being a faithful priest and prophet requires some form of artistic crucifixion, a submission that can at times be excruciating for the artist who is truly a visionary. Such a visionary might be warmly embraced by many members of emergent churches. According to Scot McKnight in his recent article in Christianity Today, a key feature of the emergent church movement is that they are decidedly and devotedly provocative. [8] Nevertheless, if we are to be faithful to our calling as both priests and prophets, the liturgical artist cannot simply be provocative. And, most certainly, she cannot be provocative for the sake of being provocative. Instead, if provocation is required, it must suit the needs of the community, coming in some way from the community itself. All liturgical art — provocative or not — must move the worshipper ever deeper into the mystery of God. Such an approach will also move individuals ever more deeply towards community life.
The viability, not just the visibility, of the liturgical arts is in direct correspondence to its source, structure, and end. Those whose callings and professions are closely linked to the liturgy must be prayerful and careful enough to guide the worshipping assembly beyond mere visibility (appreciation) into the fullness of liturgical viability (apprehension). To do otherwise is -using a distinctly sacramental illustration - to elevate the Host at Mass while having absolutely no appreciation of Christ’s Real Presence.
[1] Albert Rouet, Liturgy and the Arts (Collegeville, Minnesota, 1997) 46.
[2] Stephane Malarme quoted in Dana Gioia, Can Poetry Matter? (St. Paul, Minnesota, 1992) 17.
[3] It is only the incarnation that makes Natural Theology a discipline that can be properly understood, interpreted, and embraced.
[4] It is to be noted, however, that absolute freedom in liturgical art - then or now - is unacceptable. While the craftsman might have had some freedom, he (in this case) was not free to do whatever he pleased. Liturgical art is not the same as religious art, devotional art, or just any secular form of art. Liturgical art is for the assembly, and this reality must be respected.
[5] Robert E. Webber, Enter His Courts With Praise: A Study of Music and the Arts in Worship (Peabody, Massachusetts, 1997) 23.
[6] Robert E. Webber, Renew Your Worship: A Study in the Blending of Traditional and Contemporary Worship (Peabody, Massachusetts, 1997) 34. Dr. Webber makes a similar point in this passage.
[7] I am not saying that words are exclusively to be used in prayer, however. There is a place for silence and other contemplative forms of prayer and meditation.
[8] Scot McKnight, Five Streams of the Emerging Church, Christianity Today (February, 2007) 34 - 39.
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