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A few weeks back, with the Carisbrook stands full to capacity, the All Blacks lined up against England and with no doubt, collective relief across the country when that whistle blew. I’m sure there were a few English tears in the stand. On the inside, of course. This IS rugby.
Me, I cry well before the end is decided – actually before it even starts. A hushed stadium full of expectation, the team lined up holding each other's shirts, the anthems sung. The English anthem a polished, operatic performance. Then came Jaya, facing off with the formidable All Blacks. She’s little and fourteen years old.
Standing there, looking like David and the Goliaths, she belted out our anthems, and I sat bawling like a baby. For me, all my anxieties about our nation, my prejudices and my own connections to the whenua just vaporise, and I am left with a sense of hope and wonder – a sense of reverence, and a longing, as C.S. Lewis put it, with “the probable explanation is that we were made for another world”.
Who would have thought: a transcendent moment, and the rugby hadn’t even started.
I’ve learnt through the years to honour these tears. I don’t usually cry easily. However, it’s one very human trait that we have the capacity to be stopped in our tracks by beauty and grace, and we get to decide whether or not we want to pay attention. These tears, somehow, are a touch with the Divine, and I need to pay attention.
You might remember my friend Thomas from an article a little while back. He’s depicted here in his moment of transcendence where he went from that strong “I don’t believe you guys” to worship that changed the course of his life.
But what I love about this painting is that it exists at all.
It was painted by Caravaggio (1601-ish) who in his spare time when not painting, went out to get drunk, raise trouble and pick fights. He chose to flee Rome because he murdered someone and didn’t want to face consequences. Not quite the holy person who creates such a hallowed moment from his soul. Yet here he reflects a transcendent moment of biblical truth. He must have known what that felt like.
His back story tells me that beauty and grace can be experienced by anyone, even the darkest of human souls.
The other thing I love is that art defies words.
We have become a Christian people who love words – songs, the bible, apologetics and study huddles. The place that art had was all thrown out with the development of Western thinking, reason and rationality, and now paintings like this hang in galleries, not churches.
In the early church, growing in a world full of illiterate people, art was embraced as a means of evangelism and biblical instruction. Congregations heard sermons, looked at the stories in windows, statues and paintings. This is how our faith was transferred from the beginning. God showed up in stained glass, in what Jerome Hiler has called “cinema before 1300”.
Beauty and transcendence point to the sacred for all humans. We are the only creatures that stop and notice. The Bible says we are the creatures God has called to relationship. We are the only species who wonder about the meaning of our lives. There are many things in this world that are not explicit and measurable – love being the greatest.
With our faith, we all enter a life that is dotted with theological reflection that comes in many shapes: intellectual, musical and natural, we can experience awe over a beautifully created humming engine.
Images can also be powerful. We hold this in common with those that don’t share our faith. We have a path to God to share – God the artist, Creator, the source of wisdom and beauty that our souls hunger for – when we encounter a portal through which we can show the world. As Russ Ramsay says, “God uses beauty to woo and warm hearts.”
I am sure there will be many times as the All Blacks play going into this next winter series, during the Olympics when our anthem will be played. Perhaps it will affect me the same. Perhaps not.
But I do know, as I go about my life, looking for those moments that do move my soul, God will attend – if I am fully present.
Check out other articles in the
series below.
More articles in the
series are to come.
We have invited these writers to share their experiences, ideas and opinions in the hope that these will provoke thought, challenge you to go deeper and inspire you to put your faith into action. These articles should not be taken as the official view of the Nelson Diocese on any particular matter.
A few weeks back, with the Carisbrook stands full to capacity, the All Blacks lined up against England and with no doubt, collective relief across the country when that whistle blew. I’m sure there were a few English tears in the stand. On the inside, of course. This IS rugby.
Me, I cry well before the end is decided – actually before it even starts. A hushed stadium full of expectation, the team lined up holding each other's shirts, the anthems sung. The English anthem a polished, operatic performance. Then came Jaya, facing off with the formidable All Blacks. She’s little and fourteen years old.
Standing there, looking like David and the Goliaths, she belted out our anthems, and I sat bawling like a baby. For me, all my anxieties about our nation, my prejudices and my own connections to the whenua just vaporise, and I am left with a sense of hope and wonder – a sense of reverence, and a longing, as C.S. Lewis put it, with “the probable explanation is that we were made for another world”.
Who would have thought: a transcendent moment, and the rugby hadn’t even started.
I’ve learnt through the years to honour these tears. I don’t usually cry easily. However, it’s one very human trait that we have the capacity to be stopped in our tracks by beauty and grace, and we get to decide whether or not we want to pay attention. These tears, somehow, are a touch with the Divine, and I need to pay attention.
You might remember my friend Thomas from an article a little while back. He’s depicted here in his moment of transcendence where he went from that strong “I don’t believe you guys” to worship that changed the course of his life.
But what I love about this painting is that it exists at all.
It was painted by Caravaggio (1601-ish) who in his spare time when not painting, went out to get drunk, raise trouble and pick fights. He chose to flee Rome because he murdered someone and didn’t want to face consequences. Not quite the holy person who creates such a hallowed moment from his soul. Yet here he reflects a transcendent moment of biblical truth. He must have known what that felt like.
His back story tells me that beauty and grace can be experienced by anyone, even the darkest of human souls.
The other thing I love is that art defies words.
We have become a Christian people who love words – songs, the bible, apologetics and study huddles. The place that art had was all thrown out with the development of Western thinking, reason and rationality, and now paintings like this hang in galleries, not churches.
In the early church, growing in a world full of illiterate people, art was embraced as a means of evangelism and biblical instruction. Congregations heard sermons, looked at the stories in windows, statues and paintings. This is how our faith was transferred from the beginning. God showed up in stained glass, in what Jerome Hiler has called “cinema before 1300”.
Beauty and transcendence point to the sacred for all humans. We are the only creatures that stop and notice. The Bible says we are the creatures God has called to relationship. We are the only species who wonder about the meaning of our lives. There are many things in this world that are not explicit and measurable – love being the greatest.
With our faith, we all enter a life that is dotted with theological reflection that comes in many shapes: intellectual, musical and natural, we can experience awe over a beautifully created humming engine.
Images can also be powerful. We hold this in common with those that don’t share our faith. We have a path to God to share – God the artist, Creator, the source of wisdom and beauty that our souls hunger for – when we encounter a portal through which we can show the world. As Russ Ramsay says, “God uses beauty to woo and warm hearts.”
I am sure there will be many times as the All Blacks play going into this next winter series, during the Olympics when our anthem will be played. Perhaps it will affect me the same. Perhaps not.
But I do know, as I go about my life, looking for those moments that do move my soul, God will attend – if I am fully present.
Check out other articles in the
series below.
More articles in the
series are to come.
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