Perhaps you think I will unveil the code to understand what
it is that attracts us to the artwork, and what pull the reflections of the
sacred, the things of God, has on us. Perhaps you have stared at a painting
from another time and wondered with a slight confusion and uncertainty about
what it really means? 
Perhaps you, too, have felt like a small and rather
insignificant creature in the midst of a spacious cathedral. Was it an
uncomfortable reminder of your own position in the larger scope of things?
As a typical western culture thinker, I would like to start
defining the words ‘sacred’ and ‘art’. Immediately another strand of my human
experience protests. Why, I think to myself, why shall we limit the quest to
logical categories, to clearly defined concepts, to rational cognition? Are we
not more than thought?
How then, do we relate to the human expression in art, which
goes beyond the earthly limitations? I wonder.
The need for meaning is apparent for many of us; yet, we
have lived with theories of art, which adamantly denies the usefulness or
purposefulness of any artwork. It is not created to have a function, but is in
itself an end. The work of art is a product of a genius of sorts, and this
genius is slightly out of touch with his or her geniality, in as far as they
seem like mere media of another power. Hm. If this ‘other power’ has no
message, no intent, no purpose in relations to the rest of us, then we may as
well contemplate the white sheet, the unpainted canvas. So, as a result, we do
see this expression at times: the book without words, a blank canvas.
Naturally, these contributions to the history of art will not become classics.
They were like a voice, still in their silence: a voice of nihilism, nonsense,
void.
What is it about art that we treasure it? Why do we value
it? It is not the precious oils, pigments, or acrylics for that matter; it is
not he building materials of the built environment or the hours of labour which
the creating artists put into the work.
It is the expression; we may connect. It makes us pause. As
we react, we sense an intuitive response and try to make sense of it. There is
something about the precious artwork that brings an intuitive sense of facing
truth.
Religious art has themes from the sacred books, and in my
world, that is the Bible. There are stories, there are moments in history, and
these are reflected in various ways on canvas, or in interior décor of the
sacred space. There are underlying theological considerations in layout of a
church, of the building material, of focus and direction. Without any
understanding or experience with any of this, the images are veiled in
ignorance, but still, intuitively, we may sense a moment of truth. The problem
is, naturally that we feel uninformed and perhaps afraid of being fooled, and
we turn somewhat skeptical to this intuitive impulse. It may urge us to learn,
to find out more, to seek the source of the image.
For the theologically informed, the imagery of religious art
is a source of contemplation. The artwork is like a window, an icon pointing to
something else. It has a function.
Sacred art is religious art within the sacred space and has
a different, perhaps more practical purpose in the events that take place in
the cathedral, parish church or chapel. There may be icons of former saints,
symbolic artifacts like a naked cross, a crucifix or image of a lamb. The
tabernacle, the cup of wine, the unleavened bread on silver plates: They may
carry the contemplative reminder function for the believer who knows the
meaning of these forms, but more so do they have a real connecting function.
Through physical means we connect with God. Is it the artwork that has such
qualities? No, nor is it the craftsmanship of any artifacts which may carry
such power. We miss the point if we focus on the means. The only reality behind
the connection with God is in his own promise, like Jesus himself gave us as he
instituted the Eucharist. In Christ Jesus we have forgiveness of sins and a direct
connection to God.
The secret of sacred art is not really in the art itself. It
is in the promises of God. Good art and fine craftsmanship may catch our
attention and challenge us to face truth, either about ourselves or about God’s
promises. I suppose we could call it a function, but its meaning is not the
intention of the human creator. The function is not in the work of art itself.
It is like a window.
