AMONG THE MANY hopeful initiatives to come from the Vatican under Pope Francis is an attempt to rebuild the church’s relationship with the arts. Francis declared this to be among his priorities in his famous 2013 interview with Jesuit priest Antonio Spadaro (published in the U.S. by the journal America). Francis listed among his inspirations painters Caravaggio and Chagall, the Russian novelist Dostoevsky and the German poet Friedrich Hölderlin, the music of Bach and Mozart, and the films of Fellini and Rossellini.
Lately the pope’s passion for art has taken tangible form with an interview-based book in Italian, whose title translates to My Idea of Art, and a documentary film of the same name, subtitled in six languages, that tours the Vatican Museum’s artistic treasures. In the book, Pope Francis argues that great art can serve as an antidote to contemporary greed, exclusion, and waste and maintains that “a work of art is the strongest evidence that incarnation is possible.”
Pope Francis came to office determined to downgrade some of the papacy’s pomp and splendor. He lives in a guest house instead of the papal apartment. He wears sturdy black walking shoes instead of those iconic red slippers and a silver cross where his predecessors went for the gold. He seems like the sort who might auction off the Vatican’s art collection and give the money to the poor.
But Francis instead sees the church’s involvement with the arts, past and present, as an occasion for evangelization. In My Idea of Art, he states his desire to have the doors of the Vatican Museum thrown open to all without charge. (The current admission fee is about $18.) This would be right in line with a papacy that has seen shelter near St. Peter’s Square opened to the homeless—who were then the guests of honor at a 2016 Vatican concert.
Of course, the Roman Catholic Church and art, especially visual art, should be a match made in heaven. It once was, and not just for the likes of Michelangelo. Well into the 20th century, the church kept less distinguished artists busy turning out the gallery of devotional objects that every parish church required: the crucifix, the stations of the cross, the statues of the Holy Family and the local patron saint, and all those stained-glass windows.
During my Southern Baptist childhood, it was darkly insinuated that Catholics worshipped idols. All that religious art provided proof. You could see them any day of the week, kneeling in front of a sometimes-garishly painted statue. Then, in my late teens, I started reading Dorothy Day, and it all clicked. That apparent idol worship was, as Pope Francis reminds us, expressing a faith that rests on the incarnation. It’s a faith in which grace builds on nature, and the invisible God works through the sensual elements of bread, wine, water, and oil.
Spurred by Vatican II, the art in Catholic churches changed, not always for the better. The updates, especially of religious art and music, tried to reflect the church’s new openness to the secular world and modern ideas. It was all very well-intentioned. But the results sometimes put me in mind of bluesman Sonny Boy Williamson II’s comment about his backing musicians on his 1960s tour of England. “Those British boys want to play the blues real bad,” Williamson said, “and they do.”
Pope Francis, however, seems to know great art when he encounters it and understand its theological significance. Maybe he will rebuild the bridge between Christianity and contemporary artists. That’s asking a lot, but this is the guy who invited Patti Smith to play at his 2014 Christmas concert. I’m willing to give him a chance.
Danny Duncan Collum, author of the novel White Boy, teaches writing at Kentucky State University in Frankfort.
Got something to say about what you're reading? We value your feedback!