When I saw these images, my reaction was: ‘oh, how interesting, a Victorian interior. I wonder what it looks like now?’ I only had to step out of the Sacristy to find the answer: because the photographs are actually of my own church. I could not believe it.

These photographs were taken in 1945 at the nuptials of Louis and Serena Nazzaro, whose family still attends Sacred Heart, and whose granddaughter, Kaelen, is shortly to be married at the same Altar. They show the original marble Reredos and a two-light, traceried window depicting the apparition of the Sacred Heart of Jesus to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque.

The style and design of the window, and the glass within it, is of the Thirteenth Century, whereas the decoration of the wall paintings is of Fourteenth-Fifteenth Century inspiration, with flowing, reticulated tracery and exuberant foliage designs.

I suspect the paintings were executed in grisaille (that is, a subtle monochrome palette in shades of gray, to mimic masonry) with the exceptions of the attendant angels holding instruments of the Eucharist, which may even belong to an earlier scheme. What is certain is that these paintings must date to the late Nineteenth Century, i.e. the earliest phase in the history of the Church, and not to the successive expansions in the 1920s and 1930s.

Discoveries like this change everything. When you do not know for sure what was there before, the question of restoration is moot. But when you have evidence of what went before, you have two choices: either (a.) the decoration may still exist under the later, textured whitewash, and should be restored, or (b.) it can, (and should,) be authenticated as it was, as much as is possible.

But this was not the only phase of change and adaptation at Sacred Heart. For reasons that may become clear as we investigate further (water damage, perhaps, or other settlement of the plaster) the old scheme was replaced in the 1950s with a much starker, but still equally inventive, liturgical scheme, which replaced the marble Reredos with the classic ‘riddel posts’ and curtains of the ‘English Altar.’ Interesting that this design lasted at most twenty years before it was consigned to the garbage, and the whole scheme obliterated with a wash of Magnolia house paint.

Maybe what is needed at this point is harmonious combination of the two: a restoration of the wall paintings, but with Fr. Cleary’s English Altar at the center. I am not sure anyone would welcome a return of the petrol-blue and grey Sanctuary paint scheme. As for the window: is it just possible it still exists, somewhere? We can only hope!

Fruit of the Vine

Unlike last week’s European Goldfinch and its relatively unfamiliar legend and symbolism, this week’s art project was based on a symbol that is so familiar to us that it might almost be taken a bit for granted.  Bread and wine (and the wheat, grapes and grapevines from which they are derived) are mentioned throughout Sacred Scripture, including in Genesis 14:18 when Melchizedek brought out bread and wine to Abram. 

We find them in images all around us in our Churches, as well as in reality at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  This is a theme so rich and deep in content that we could only very lightly touch upon it, but it made a good Eucharistic subject for us to focus on as we approach the upcoming Holiest of Days.

We looked at several images of wheat and grapes in stained glass windows. We also looked at the painting by Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli Madonna of the Eucharist, sometimes called Virgin and Child with an Angel, c. 1470.  In it Our Lady is holding the Christ Child on her lap while an angel offers them grapes and wheat, symbolic of the Eucharist, what will one day become His Body and Blood.  Our Lady chooses one of the twelve stalks of wheat for her Son while His little hand is raised in what looks to be a blessing.  The focus of all three is on the platter of grapes and wheat.

Another painting of interest is by French Baroque artist Pierre Mignard c. 1615. It is an engaging image of the Christ Child, again sitting on Our Lady’s lap, but playfully peeking out from under her delicate veil.  It seems an unusual combination of playfulness and seriousness as she is handing Him a bunch of grapes, with all the weight of the symbolism.  On the table next to them is a dish with apples, perhaps symbolic of the fruit by which our first parents fell. This image could be seen as a foreshadowing of the Wedding Feast at Cana, and the beginning of Our Lord’s public ministry at Our Lady’s bidding.  He lifts the protective veil of His hidden life and she offers Him the symbol of the sacrifice for which He came.

For our painting this week we looked very close to home for inspiration, quite literally.  One of the stained glass windows in the Oratory Church of the Sacred Heart was the springboard for this week’s project. Using a circular design, as in the window, the children first sketched their grapevine and then moved on to their bunches of grapes. 

Again in contrast to last week’s drawing and the precision which it required, the children had much more freedom to design their vine, grapes and leaves.  Once they completed their individual drawings, they covered the pencil lines with black as in stained glass leading.  The main focus, especially with the older ones, was the rendering of the grapes, both in varieties of colors as well as adding shading and highlights. 

They had total freedom to choose background colors and some added decorative designs as well.  We worked in liquid watercolors because of both its vibrancy of color and transparency, a good medium to give the illusion of stained glass.

Our collage holy card this week was from John 6:

The Grand Canyon

Father Clark's Sunday sermon for Passion Sunday explored the fact that God lies hidden in order to be discovered, and that his ‘hiddenness’ is tailor-made for each generation. Describing as a Grand Canyon, the difference in outlook between the postwar generation (those 50 and over) and what we may describe as the ‘TikTok’ generation (those 30 and under) he observed that his own generation (those in their 40s) have a foot in both camps - and perhaps share the disadvantages of both.

In general, the postwar generation is marked for its resilience and capacity for hard work, with the goal of providing stability for the family, allied to the pursuit of success. External markers are readily observable: what car do you drive? What neighborhood do you live in? Where do you go on vacation? Do you have a second home? Such a generation is conscientious, generous and altruistic, but struggles with mystery and the transcendent.

By contrast the TikTok generation is marked by the priority of self-expression: ‘I must be myself, and you must accept me for who I am.’ External markers are of much less interest: kitchen cabinets, and the makes of cars are becoming less important, compared with new experiences and thrilling encounters. This generation is much less hard-working, finding menial tasks irksome, even pointless, and fails to see how the foundations of life: government, education, healthcare or transport, are not just ‘a given.’ They are part of a delicate balance, easily destroyed.

But it is the phenomenon of social media videos that marks out a growing chasm between the generations. And this is not to denigrate all social media: some of it is genuinely edifying, and entertaining. But for those 30 and under, many hours can be spent scrolling through videos on a near-infinite algorithm of related interests (“you may like…”)

But what is common to much of this content is how it purports to show real life; but in actual fact, it is fake: video clips that claim to be a snapshot of someone’s exciting life are shown to be heavily edited projections for consumption by strangers. What is at stake here is the ability to discern truth from fantasy: what are realistic expectations for life? Why has no-one asked me to do the latest dance craze? What if my life does not look half as exciting?

God is interested in every life: in Max Ehrman’s famous poem Desiderata of 1927 there leaps out the line: “you have a right to be here” - and you indeed do. You are part of the plan, and God subscribes to your feed with passionate interest. But He is not content to leave you where you are - instead, He veils Himself, in order to draw you in, closer and deeper. If you are of the postwar generation, perhaps the call is to embrace mystery more fully; whereas if you are a Tiktokker, maybe such unveiling consists of committing to the reality of a life well-lived.

Either way, Christ is the answer, as He always is. In Christ we see our nature glorified and perfected; we see the intrinsic value of every human soul created in God’s image, and we recognize that the call to holiness is a call to a constant state of discovery: “to live is to change; to be perfect is to have changed often” - St. John Henry Newman (1801 - 1890.)