art and evil

In a Time of Darkness

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Chicago’s Unity Temple, by Frank Lloyd Wright (1908)

 

In a time of darkness, we seek light from above.

A couple of days after offering my reflection on “A Desecrated Beauty,” I heard the terrible news from the Holy Land with its many troubling details.

The desecration of beauty can rightly be seen as a violation of what is sacred. If we can associate this idea of violation with the greedy despoliation of an old-growth forest, or the thoughtless pollution of a tranquil waterway, what greater offense against the wisdom and love of the Creator exists than atrocious barbarity unleashed upon human persons made in the image of God?

Human warfare, whether justified on occasion through acts of reasoning that seek some form of the good, or abhorred as an absolutely unconscionable choice, always involves some evil. Hate does not reflect our better nature, unless perhaps it is hate for the ultimate source of all that is not of God. Yet, paradoxically, we so often embody evil through violent acts against people whose views and behavior we refuse to recognize, not only by damaging things that other people value, but by hurting them, even fatally, as well.

In spite of this, following Augustine and Aquinas, I accept the premise that acts of violence can in some circumstances and on some occasions be justified as acts in the service of justice and even of love. The view that the defense of other human beings can be a justifiable expression of our love for our neighbor, even if that defense may involve the use of force and acts of violence, is and has been a formative strand of biblically informed Christian moral reasoning. Therefore, I offer no judgment upon Israel and its leaders who are presently involved in responding militarily to the large-scale acts of terrorism against their nation and people.

Whether for decisions made in haste, or acts undertaken after due deliberation, Israel’s leaders and people will have occasion to judge themselves, their reasoning, and what they have done or not done. History, and others not directly involved, will certainly call them to account.

People impacted by the present conflict may find it difficult or even impossible to seek ‘light from above.’ Yet, in the midst of darkness, those who seek beauty, goodness, and truth, will best be prepared to receive that light, and the healing that comes with it. For the divine light is not absent and can be found.

Whether the divine presence is known and named as revealed, or unknown, or even secretly sought, Christ is the center of all that exists, the one in whom all things hold together, and through him God’s Providence is enacted. Evil will be vanquished, and all that is good or open to God’s redeeming guidance will be brought by him to its intended fulfillment and bliss (see Colossians 1:9-20).

For “the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned” (Isaiah 9:2 & Matthew 4:16).

 

The Beauty of Picasso’s Guernica

 

 

It was probably in the summer of 1974 when I first stood before this remarkably stirring painting, Guernica, by Pablo Picasso (at MOMA, NYC). His fullest creative talents, as well as sensitivity to many aspects of our common human condition, came together to help him produce this recognized masterpiece. Not the least of the key features of this painting was his decision to render the composition in black, white and shades of grey.

Remember that he was ‘Pablo,’ not ‘Pierre,’ Picasso -that he was a Spaniard by birth, and in important ways, by self-identification.

In the context in which I compose these words, with Russia presently invading Ukraine, Picasso’s painting, and National Geographic’s somewhat unexpected reference to it at this moment, I am once again reminded of my recent visit to the Calder and Picasso exhibit at MFAH (Museum of Fine Arts, Houston). The image below, featured early in the walk through of that exhibit, shows Calder standing in front on Picasso’s Guernica, looking at his own contribution to the Spanish Pavilion for the 1937 Paris International World’s Fair.

Noting these precedents, I want to raise a question, which cannot simply or quickly be answered. What is the role of art, and of our exploration of beauty, in relation to the reality of evil?

A powerful example of a response to this question is provided by Illya Repin’s painting, Ivan the Terrible and his Son Ivan (1581). A more recent example is Francisco de Goya’s 1814 painting, The Third of May. And, of course, so many portrayals of the crucifixion of Jesus.

A partial answer to the question I have posed is to say at least this: art and the exploration of beauty has the potential to remind us of our common humanity, and especially of the ideals we attach to our best and shared perceptions of what it means to be human – even in the face of evil and of death.

Picasso’s Guernica provides a compelling example of a good answer to this question.