An Encounter.
by lefever on September 12, 2010
Have you had an indelible experience ever, from any religious art?
Millan was industrial gray and it was cold; it was winter and the trees had shed their leaves – the electric trains spat crackle through the night air with each passing, reminding one of Milan’s modern life: Modernity, Modern Life.
This was not what I expected from Italia’s center for design and couture. More apocalyptic in my mind, a dirty city, not unlike the Los Angeles I had flown from just half a day ago. This was my first impression on the night I arrived. It is fair to say I could have been unjust from being travel weary and carrying naive expectations toward seeing the romantic Italy created by Hollywood slight of hand.
Although I came here to find a specific girl, a high-school flame, it was a different encounter that would change me. In Milan, something would happen that would change my future. It happened in Milan. It happened in Milan at Il Duomo. It was here I would get a kiss from God.
This was the mid 1980’s. I was not a Christian, though I fancied my self a believer in God, having homogenized Buddhist practicality with Theosophical curiosity. I was in Milan for only three days and I wanted to see Il Duomo di Milano, the third largest cathedral in the world.
A memory of first impression stays with me still all these years later. I entered one of its large main doorways; it was dark, I saw candles, light from the tiny clerestory windows pierced the dark cavernous space like pathways streaming from heaven into the darkness of my soul… though I did not feel my soul was dark. Somehow I related to this space.
Something came over me as I stood there looking, as if I should bow to my knees. I resisted the urge to get on my knees but the sense kept on like waves lapping at the shore; on your knees, “no”. On your knees, “no”. I continued to quietly resist the urge.
I thought perhaps the prayers of ages collected by the stone walls was the pious energy I sensed, making the place feel holy to me, calling me to reverence from my knees. But I resisted on the basis of intellect non-belief, and pride.
It was a compelling experience I did not anticipate and it left an impression.
I would continue on to see San Marcos in Venice, the art of Florence, the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, and churches of Rome containing art with which I was familiar. But I would not have that feeling again that I had in the Duomo of Milan.
I would set out again in 2003 to see the churches and Cathedrals of France, seeking to find if art and architecture could affect me the same way as I had been in Milan. This time I was a Christian and I was out to discover the consecrated space. Though I visited Paris, Reims, Rouen, Chartres, Amiens, Beauvais, Taize, it would be a small chapel in St. Paul St. Louis that I would call home to pray in.
Since then I have asked people to tell me if they had ever had an indelible experience in a church space or from a piece of religious art… I have heard so many stories such as:
“… and if you gave me $10,000 to forget that memory, I would not take the money”,
“… I have never forgotten a mural I saw as a kid in a cafeteria of Jesus feeding the 5000…”, to
“I am not a Christian but when I entered that church in New Zealand, I felt like praying…”,
“…as a child I saw a fresco of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, praying – it stuck with me and that image brought me into ministry as a Catholic priest. Now here I am standing on the very rock in Gethsemane holding mass…” and on and on.
So my question to you who reads this:
Was there ever in your life a time that you had an indelible experience like this from a church or religious art you saw?
What was it?
Did God meet you through this experience? If so … what was it like – how do you feel about it now? How were you touched?
Please share, as much or as little as you would like, but please, do share.
And please send this post to others so we can hear from as many people who have stories to share.
Jeff
One comment
I remember walking down a dark cobblestone street in the “Old Market” in Poznan, Poland. It almost felt like an alley. At the end of the street was a Catholic church that had a pink facade. It know it’s cliche, but, as tight and dreary as the street felt, that color seemed to shine like a light at the end of a tunnel. I also remember walking through the front door and finding an old lady near the back. She was the only person in the entire place. We were tourists. Curious and impressed. We came for a moment. We took our pictures and left, off to see more sights. But that woman left a mark. Her small presence in that huge, empty room was embedded into my mind. She was there for quiet, rest, worship. It was a consecrated space that welcomed her in and gave her more than a memory to put in a scrapbook. The final memory I have is of this small, rather dull church in the city. It was the building where we went for devotional times. It wasn’t anything special. But I had some powerful times of worship there. It was the first time I really came to the realization that God is the God of the nations and that one day people from all tribes and tongues will bow before the throne.
by Brandon Hoops on August 1, 2011 at 10:50 pm. #