The Church has failed to embrace artists

If you walk around Europe and stumble into an old church, you’ll see priceless artwork. For centuries the Catholic Church commissioned artists to paint, sculpt, and manifest the biblical stories in their chosen medium. These artists were brought up in a world where the strength of religious belief was limited by a number of factors, including Church hierarchy, politics, preaching, literacy, imagination, and the availability of visual aids for communal prayer. There were no screens, pictures, or mass-produced illustrations–God lived in people’s minds. That is, until artists were commissioned to depict how these ancient stories unfolded.

When in the Sistine Chapel, it is said the purpose of artwork is self-evident. Entire scenes exist in unchanging, realistic depictions, reminding the faithful of the most important aspects of their faith: be good and fearful of God and his ordained ambassadors or end up in Satan’s grasp. Such a masterpiece as the Sistine Chapel could never have been created unless the Church worked closely with the greatest artists alive.

It was a mutual relationship–the Church supported artists, and artists used their gifts for the spiritual good of God’s people. But Michelangelo wasn’t alone when painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel–several high-ranking clergy remained on the ground, ensuring his work did not deviate from doctrine.

Though limits surely existed, the Church embraced the arts as a way to demonstrate not only their power but the beauty of human handiwork. Through these co-creative efforts performed by artists on earth, in time and space, God meets humankind. There remains to this day magnificent power in the artwork of this time period.

So, where did all the great Catholic artists go?

In his book Art for Church: Cloth of Gold, Cloak of Lead, our late friend and teacher, Dennis McNally, SJ, explores this question. Dennis, who worked as a painter and art professor at Saint Joseph’s University for half a century, felt this tension personally.

Dennis accounts that, in the modern American Church, the arts are secondary to the intellectual tradition. Churches built today are mostly devoid of art. Modern architects favor empty spaces, sometimes dark, other times a white-box. Modern liturgical spaces resemble no longer resemble the great Gothic, Baroque, Romanesque, and Renaissance cathedrals of the Middle Ages. Instead, modern church architecture are places of respire, devoid of stimulation from the constant imagery of the world.

Rather than be led by images, the faithful are led by lectures, meditative hymns, and creeds which tell them what to think, believe, and do–not feel. Just as Jesus was removed from the crucifix during the Reformation, so, too, do modern churches remove the opportunity for masterpieces.

Even if there were a desire for paintings and sculptures to enter these spaces, who would make them? Where are all the Catholic artists? Many have left because the Church has not accepted, welcomed, embraced, encouraged, uplifted, or commissioned them to create work for God.

Instead, expression is stifled. Modern art is far too dangerous and distasteful to be displayed in Church. It’s better to mass produce copies of the most famous pieces than embrace any new, unique art. Surely, the art of today is not inspired by the Spirit as those great pieces from the past were. Let’s make sure there is very little art in the sanctuary, and that Jesus is always clothed.

The reality is the Church is suffering because it has lost its artists, and with them the inspiration to see things in a new way.

The Church needs the arts, and we need people to be patrons of the arts. We need your inspiration, your heart, your fire, your soul, your gift. And we need those church politicians with no artistic proclivities to take a back seat. This is not your jurisdiction.

When Dennis passed away, he left behind hundreds of paintings. I am the sole patron of Dennis’ remaining, unsold work. His paintings, some of which were painted to be displayed in churches and prayed with, are available for sale.

To view the catalog of available paintings or get in contact with me, click here.

What a Way to Start the Year

Northbound on I-95, there was a black matte G-Wagon parked on the left shoulder not a half mile from the service station. I drive a little further and see a man looking like he was ready to golf–white quarter zip and all–walking back to the car with a half-full red gas tank and fully red face.

What a way to start the year.

“Yikes, dude,” I said, then promptly pulled out my notes app to say this:

We all have empty tanks we’ve avoided for too long. Who’s to say we won’t break down on the side of the turnpike, too.

Aaron Lemma, Northbound on I-95

I hope your year is better than his, though I do hope he laughed about it on the ride home.

Please Do Not Subscribe

Nobody:
Me: Who wants a new newsletter?!
Nobody:

If Big Newsletter hasn’t saturated your inboxes by now, congratulations! You’re part of the select few who have dodged the consistent, daily bombardment of marketing, solicitations, and panicked senses of urgency, expertly designed to get you to click through and make a purchase–right now! You are probably experiencing great amounts of peace and clarity as your empty inbox echoes neither wind chimes nor bings, bep-bops, ding-dongs, or buzz-buzzes. If you’ve achieved this level of sophisticated siloing, I suggest you keep it that way.

So please, don’t subscribe this biweekly, nonspammy newsletter my team and I put together about the community development work we’re doing in Kenya. I’m sure your inbox is full enough as it is.

Sincerely,

Aaron
WILK Wednesday Writer

New Year Resolutions

Last night, masses of humanity around the world gathered to celebrate life, accomplishments, music, and love. Most of those who went out returned home, dazed and dirty after sufficient drinking, toasting, and, hopefully, camaraderie.

This morning they woke up in a hungover stupor, ready to hold to the promises they made yesterday–but starting tomorrow.

Every year we make and break resolutions. So, why keep trying? What’s the point of improving? We will all be dead in a short time, anyways. So why the strong, ubiquitous urge to capitalize on an arbitrary “fresh start”?

Our resolutions will break, but the desire to be people we’re proud of is a valuable intention.

Here I think of David Whyte’s powerful verse in Santiago (this hyperlink leads to his Ted Talk, which is worth the watch):

So that one day you realized
that what you wanted had already happened,
and long ago and in the dwelling place
in which you lived in before you began,
and that every step along the way, you had carried
the heart and the mind and the promise
that first set you off and then drew you on
and that, you were more marvelous in your
simple wish to find a way than the gilded roofs
of any destination you could reach…

David Whyte, Santiago

Your resolutions to “improve” come from a place already of great worth–you. You are marvelous, merely in that you have a “simple wish to find a way.” Perhaps that is resolution enough, for what already exists in you cannot be broken.

Dusty Seats

Yesterday’s Gospel was the parable of the Prodigal Son. This is historically interpreted in the following way: no matter how much you sin, you can always return to God, who is welcoming you with open arms. This is a nice interpretation, but I am beginning to think Jesus had something far more personal in mind.

Here’s an alternate interpretation: the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church is the Father, and the LGBTQ+ community is the prodigal son.

Until Church leadership realizes that its role is to welcome the LGBTQ+ community back with open arms, fully and completely, the Church will remain irrelevant. Unless it changes its doctrine (which has changed before and can change again) to better include, embrace, and respect the decisions, autonomy, and freedom of LGBTQ+ individuals, it will continue to contract. Why? Because everybody who loves someone in the LGBTQ+ community will eventually leave the Church unless things change. This will soon be an entire generation.

Unless doctrine changes (along with the attitudes of homophobia and transphobia), the Church will continue to wither and die, eventually shrinking to the point where the only people ministered to are wealthy, white, and straight. Just like it used to be. And if you think that’s who it should be, you have to ask yourself if Jesus dined with people on the margins or the conservative Pharisees who upheld ancient doctrine that no longer complied with the changing world.

This song should be how the Church sings to the LGBTQ+ community (source: Genius):

“There is room for you here, it don’t matter how long you’ve been gone. I will always welcome you with a smile.”

“I wanna sit down and listen to you. Take your turn and share your unrefined song.”

“There are so many dusty seats at my table, and I made this one especially for you. So I’m gonna save it even if we’re never able to have us a sit-on-down and talk this whole thing through.”

“It hurts so bad when I see how I contributed o the empty seats around me. But somehow they’re exactly as they’re supposed to be.”

There is only one path forward to the not-so-holy Roman Catholic Church, and it’s one of apology, inclusion, and embrace. There is no more room left for othering. There is only room for togetherness.

And to make people feel truly welcome, you have to change.

Generosity

What does it mean to be generous?

Does it mean to give your money? Your resources? Your attention? Your time? Your self?

Or does it mean to simply care about others. Not yourself, but others. “Others” can be anybody, but can they be everybody? Your partner and yours neighbors–those are real others in your life. But what about the others across the world? Do they count? What about across the galaxy? Can we really care when we don’t know somebody, don’t see them as a part of our community, family, team? Does our caring, our giving heart, really do anything?

Some people are generous. They volunteer. They give gifts. They donate. They care. Their life is lived in service of something other than themselves, be it a creed, an ethic, a god, their family, their partner. They devote themselves, albeit fully or partially, to something or someone not themself.

But what if they are generous because they are obligated to be? If they don’t give, it disobeys scripture, and God will judge them. Generosity becomes necessity to save from the fires of disobeying the Great Other, the one who determines what happens to you when you die by judging your actions while you live.

If generosity is compulsory, it becomes transactional–I give because it gets me something. Is that special? I mean, generous people are still givers, no matter the intention behind their generosity. But doesn’t that seem less…generous?

What if we tried to be genuine in our generosity?

The root “gene-“ means “give birth, beget.” Think “genus” and “genealogy” and “generation.”

“Genuine” means “natural, not acquired.” It’s associated with the Latin “genu” meaning “knee” because of the ancient tradition of a father resting a newborn on his knee to demonstrate paternity.

“Generous” means “of noble birth.” Nobles became people who shared their resources widely for others.

Being disingenuous in our generosity means to do something because you are supposed to, because it will get you bonus points with God (who is always watching). It comes from a rational decision, an intellectual weight coming from balancing judgements. It comes from your mind.

Being genuine in our generosity means to give from your heart. To give birth to a natural gift, one from within you. It’s generated holistically from your deepest wants, desires, and hopes–that of a better world–and from this deeply rooted desire bears the fruit of your gift. You give because you are willing the good of another from your innermost truth, not because you want anything in return.

The world needs your gift. We need your contribution. But we cannot promise you anything in return.

Rather, we can be clear about what we need, then tell a true story that moves your heart. From this movement comes the birth of genuine generosity–a self-giving, like that of a mother. Your gift, the one that only you can give.

Perhaps reflecting on the prayer of St. Ignatius might help:

Lord Jesus, teach me to be generous;
Teach me to serve you as you deserve,
To give and not to count the cost,
To fight and not to heed the wounds,
To toil and not to seek for rest,
To labor and not to seek reward,
Except that of knowing that I do your will.

Amen.

St. Ignatius’ prayer for a more just and generous world

Leadership is a Choice

In senior year of high school I gave the “Leadership” talk at a retreat.

I’d been in student leadership positions since 8th grade when I was class president. That part of myself continued into high school, where I was a leader in different student groups, athletic teams, and for the school. I didn’t know much about what leadership actually was back then, I just knew I could do it. All it took was getting over the hump of being uncomfortable being the first to stand up, then having the courage to do what I said I would do. Not too complicated.

When researching for the talk, I came across this TED Talk from Simon Sinek where he said that leadership is a choice. That made sense to me. People fall into positions of authority, but nobody falls into leadership. To be a leader is to choose to do your best for the people you serve. It’s about building trust by being a good person, then helping others get what they want. That’s what I focussed the talk around–the idea that we can all be leaders if we want to. All leaders do is choose to make people’s lives better.

Fast forward through more student leadership roles in college and a Master’s Degree in Organizational Leadership where I studied leadership theory & practice for two years. I learned a lot, and my education became alive as I worked as a teacher at the same time. But nothing I learned was more important than that Simon Sinek talk. Leadership is a choice, and it’s all about trust. I now understand more about the why of leadership, but the that remains the same. To be a leader is to choose to be better for others.

Leadership is a choice.

Two Officers Down

There can be no celebrations of independence without being reminded of “the cost of freedom.”

This phrase used to refer to the men and women who died in the armed forces. They sacrificed their entire lives so that we might get the chance to live. At least, that’s what we’ve been told. I’m not sure it qualifies as sacrifice if you’re forced against your will.

But times have changed. Freedom comes at different costs now, one of them being our safety as ordinary citizens. At Independence Day celebrations across the US, dozens of people were shot. Too many were killed.

In Philadelphia where my friends and I were celebrating, two police officers were shot by the Art Museum as fireworks began. We were 3 miles away in South Philly, watching the celebrations from different neighborhoods all across the city. A friends texted in a group chat asking if we were okay. We then went to Twitter. “ACTIVE SHOOTER ON PARKWAY.”

Right away, we made sure everyone knew about the situation and how to get home safe (avoid 76 West). Maybe the celebration could’ve continued, but when people are fleeing for their lives only miles away, the proper response is to shut down the party and get home safe.

This was the second time in as many months we were a couple miles away from a shooting…that was nationally televised. There are plenty of shootings in Philadelphia that don’t make the news. Philadelphia’s Office of the Controller maps all fatal and nonfatal shootings. As of July 4, there’ve been 267 homicides (down 5% from last year), 957 nonfatal shootings, and 242 fatal shootings in Philadelphia.

The shootings over the holiday weekend were devastating, unjust, and horrifying. So are the shootings that happen every day. When someone is shot, an entire network of family and friends feels the wound. Why does national news only care when it happens on the Parkway or South Street?

As we grapple with a more dangerous world, we are faced with many intolerable questions: Is it safe to go out? Am I prepared if something goes wrong? How will I protect my family? It’s upsetting to see safety nets around us fall apart, but the reality is the world is a dangerous place. We must stay alert, well informed, and ready to act. As calm as possible, we have to be ready to respond and make sure everyone gets home safe.

And we need to creatively reimagine how we can make a safer world. With urgency. Before more people are killed. We need to figure something out together–because a bullet doesn’t care who you voted for.

Five Leadership Lessons from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier

The heroic events of Avengers Endgame were only possible through the collaboration of dozens of superheroes, but there were about 14 million ways their efforts could’ve fallen short. I’m pretty convinced the Avengers wouldn’t have won if Captain America wasn’t there throughout the entire blip.

Cap’s character flaws are evident throughout the Avengers movies. His stubbornness, inability to compromise, and naive belief that people can always change caused a lot of conflict. Though a battle tested leader, he certainly had his dark side which, which was often fueled by ignorance. However, when it came time to direct the fight at Thanos, only one person said the long anticipated line of the esteemed group of heroes: “Avengers, Assemble.” It was Steve Rodgers, Captain America, the leader of the Avengers.

So after Cap helped saved the world, he went on a solo mission to return the Infinity Stones to their rightful place in history. Then he passed the torch, giving the shield, the symbol of the fight to protect people from evil, to Sam Wilson—The Falcon. It was more than a formality; Steve wanted Sam to be the next Captain America.

As one might suspect, when events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier begin, Sam has fully doubted the appointment. There could only ever be one Captain America, he thought. So he donated the shield to the Smithsonian. Days later, it was given to somebody else, someone who didn’t deserve it and wasn’t chosen by Steve.

The miniseries follows the journey of Sam and Bucky Barnes as they combat a revolutionary group who’s fighting for the rights of people displaced by the blip. We also follow as their alliance, once united by Steve, is suffering because of Sam’s surrender of the shield and Bucky’s traumatic past.

Without giving too much of the show away, I’d like to claim that the struggles of Sam and Bucky throughout these 6 episodes is filled with lessons in leadership—and how to respond when a leadership position is left vacant.

Here are 5 leadership lessons exemplified by the events of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier:

  1. If somebody you follow, admire, and respect sees leadership potential in you, you owe it to yourself and them to take their vision seriously. Their belief in you comes with a responsibility. You can choose to ignore that responsibility, but expect that to come at a cost.
  2. You must believe in yourself and your abilities to lead first. Only then will anybody be convinced enough to follow you.
  3. Leaders must make themselves trustworthy, reliable, and ready for the fight. They do what they can to make sure they’re prepared for the challenges ahead. Leadership is not a passive role; it’s active. You have to continue to train physically, mentally, and intellectually if you want to be a competent leader. If not, there’s nothing for you to place your confidence in.
  4. Leaders make sure everyone’s voice is heard. If people affected by critical decisions are left out of the conversation, this lack of consideration may threaten the ground on which the leader stands on. If you want to lead, you have to lead everyone.
  5. As a leader, you are always standing on the shoulders of giants. No matter who you are, the color of your skin, or the personal history of your people, many have gone before you. Many have suffered, sweat, bled, and died so you can stand here in your leadership position and have the privilege to lead others. Those people, all of them, must be considered. An ignorant leader is a danger to society and themself.

There are always lessons to be learned from the shows, movies, books, and stories we watch or read. But the most important lesson to be learned from this show was in the conversations in the final two episodes about what it means to be black in America. It’s exciting to see Marvel finally attempt to tackle these important conversations. I’m anticipating what other social issues the Marvel team will address in the future.

Cheers, and happy learning.

Sir David in the Classroom

After a year and a half teaching high school biology, I’ve finally showed an entire episode of a David Attenborough documentary to my students–the first episode of Our Planet. I sat there with them and watched, not just the documentary but my students. Were they watching? Were they listening? Were they allowing themselves to be wrapped by wonder? Were they imagining how on earth all of this is possible? Or were they distracted, texting, snapping, DMing, playing games on their phone, looking at UFC videos?

I expected more of the later. I got more of the former.

Eyes glued to the projector screen, mask-covered mouths agape at birds diving for mackerel, flamingo chicks racing 30 miles for freshwater, wildebeest running from wild dogs, birds dancing for mates in choreographed splendor. 75% of the class was fully invested, more than in any other video shown so far. Most teachers would agree–that’s a resounding success in a pandemic classroom.

Sir David has captured the hearts and minds of tens of millions of people throughout the years, maybe more. I’ve been no exception. He’s showed me how beautiful the world’s complexity and power is, and made me want to help mitigate the disruption caused by mankind. Being able to share one of my greatest inspirations with my students was nothing shy of magical.

Thank you, Sir David, for never failing to help us see the beauty around us.