Beauty and Crisis

During World War II, London’s National Gallery was obliged to hide all its paintings to prevent their destruction. But following requests, the gallery began to exhibit, with great caution, at least one painting per month to help revive hope among the suffering population. The pandemic of our time, even when it is over, will still pose many questions. Will it be beauty that will help us answer them more easily?

In my professional life I have been more engaged with theology than with art. At the same time, I must affirm that closeness to sacred texts and theological study have helped me discover beauty in everyday life. This is why I believe that there are profound links between theology and aesthetics.

In this brief reflection, I take the word “beauty” in its broadest sense: it includes art and aesthetics, but it can also be perceived in the simple gestures of daily life. I consider the aesthetic language to be a universal one. A song or a poem often manage to express the hidden meanings of human reality that common language cannot entirely capture.

In this sense, theological language should sometimes draw on art to be more easily understood. Art and theology can help each other: theology aided by art can become more accessible and understandable, and art that takes theology into account can avoid the risks of banality and infatuation with passing fads. Religions in their various expressions have different approaches to beauty. Oftentimes, the language of beauty is more easily and more universally shared than theological definitions.

The teachings of Chiara Lubich, one of the greatest spiritual teachers of our time, inspired my intellectual as well as personal life. Her thought, activity, and, finally, her legacy involve not only the spheres of religion and spirituality, but also many other aspects of life. Regarding the role of art, she says: 

The artist is perhaps closest to the saint. For if the saint is the miracle of one who knows how to give God to the world, the artist gives, in a certain way, the most beautiful creature of the earth: the human soul.

*(*Chiara Lubich, Essential Writings: Spirituality, Dialogue, Culture, 305)

My discovery of beauty and its connection to the presence of God in the world has passed through various stages of development. During one period, my research consisted of an in-depth study of the Book of Jonah. In particular, I studied Jonah’s prayer in the belly of the fish. This study led me to recognize the rich theology contained in the Biblical text, but also to admire its extraordinary poetic beauty. I believe the poetic expressions of the Hebrew language in the Book of Jonah emphasize and amplify its strong theological message.

But beauty does not appear only in extremity – the extreme divinity of revelation or the extreme depth of the ocean; simple housework can also become a "work of art." Vegetables tastefully presented on a plate, a simple and elegant dress, a carefully cleaned floor, a lesson by a teacher thoughtfully prepared for his pupils, the work of doctors and nurses who treat the sick with utmost devotion: isn't all this art, too? Here, too, we find an expression of the human soul.

Theology aided by art can become more accessible and understandable, and art that takes theology into account can avoid the risks of banality and infatuation with passing fads. Oftentimes, the language of beauty is more easily and more universally shared than theological definitions.

This leads me to reflect on the role of beauty in times of crisis. Humanity is currently experiencing a critical moment, due to the recent pandemic and for other reasons. I have the impression that it is precisely beauty that can aid us in addressing the crises in the history of humanity. Aesthetic experience cannot always provide direct solutions to wars, social conflicts, natural disasters, or pandemics. But it is art that helps people face, accept, endure, and sometimes even overcome difficulties in times of crisis.

A concrete example: during World War II, London’s National Gallery was obliged to hide all its paintings to prevent their destruction. But following requests, the gallery began to exhibit, with great caution, at least one painting per month to help revive hope among the suffering population:

During the Second World War, when the Gallery’s paintings were hidden for safe-keeping in a Welsh slate mine, a decision was made to have one painting a month on show. A letter published in The Times in January 1942 explained, “Because London’s face is scarred and bruised these days, we need more than ever to see beautiful things.”

(The National Gallery website, Picture of the month) 

The pandemic of our time, even when it is over, will still pose many questions. Will it be beauty that will help us answer them more easily? I am convinced that this is so.

In the meantime, beauty can enable us to look to the future with greater hope.