Tag: painting

The Theology of The Creation of Adam

This very familiar painting, The Creation of Adam, by Michelangelo, has a fascinating history behind it and a deep theological revelation within it.

The Sistine Chapel, in Vatican City, was completed in 1483, and since has been used as the chapel for the Pope to hold special worship services. We are most familiar with one of the scenes from the ceiling, depicting the Creation of Adam. What’s first and most significant about the painting was that it was without precedent.  No one had done anything on this scale before.  This is to painting what the first TV was to video. The ceiling was commissioned by Pope Julius 2 in 1508, and the Pope made certain specifications about what he wanted – originally the 12 apostles. But Michelangelo demanded freedom to do what he wanted, and instead painted a story of salvation, from Creation to the fall to Noah and the flood. Around those are the story of the Old Testament and the prophets, because they forecast the coming of the Messiah, leading to the Last Judgment. Around the lower tier are a series of tapestries of New Testament figures created by the legendary painter Raphael. Botticelli did one of the scenes as well.

Now what’s most engaging about this particular panel of the ceiling (I mean, after Adam says, “Hey, eyes up here”), is the musculature of the hands and the expressions on the faces. God’s hand is stretched, extended. He is leaning forward.  God is desperate for this connection. God wants to reach to Adam. Adam is leaning backwards as casually as if he were watching YouTube. And yes, he may have stopped on the 700 Club channel for a minute, but he doesn’t seem that interested. His hand is extended a little, but it’s dropping.  He’s unconcerned. This is not critical for him. Do you see what Michelangelo is telling us theologically?  Our relationship with God is his doing, not ours. It is by grace because he loved us, and not because we deserved it, and not because I was a generally good person in this life, and not because I made the right decision. Dead is dead.

Ephesians 2 tells us that we are “dead in our transgressions and sins.” But verses 4 and 5 give us the great promise: “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.”

Michelangelo teaches us that without God’s activity, we are lost, not in malice and rage, but in apathy and lifelessness. All the energy of Creation and salvation are God’s work.

We are then set free to life, to real life, to life on Jesus’ terms. We rise from apathy to adventure.

I once knew a guy who said that he wasn’t going to donate to charity until he was older and got rich. He told me, “I can give so much more if I wait until I have a lot.”  You know what’s going to happen? That guy’s never going to give anything.  He won’t develop the musculature for it. He’s just going to atrophy. That’s like saying, “I’m going to go to the gym when I retire.  Right now I’m too busy with work and kids and stuff.  But when I finally retire, then I’m going to get in shape.” You’ll be lucky if you make it to retirement like that.

When we set out to follow Jesus, it is to join the passion of a life lived in love, in self-sacrifice, in generosity, in care for the desperate. We move from spectator to player. When we follow Jesus, we leave behind stale religious attendance, and we become the priests and missionaries. With Jesus, the call is not to complacent intellectual assent. When we follow Jesus, we rise to life.

      The Theology of The Starry Night

      Almost everyone has seen Van Gogh’s The Starry Night on t-shirts, coffee mugs, and college dorm room posters. Not everyone knows that it was painted by a man in an explicit, desperate search for God. Not everyone realizes that there is a hidden message in the painting.

      In his younger years, Van Gogh, son of a minister, attended a Christian school and became quite religious. He once said that it was his goal to preach the gospel everywhere. So at the age of 24, his parents sent him to study theology in Amsterdam. Unfortunately, he failed the entrance exam. Undeterred, he became a pastor’s assistant. He went to work in a coal mining village where he dressed like and lived among the poor. For this, in less than a year, the religious organization for which he worked dismissed him for “undermining the dignity of the priesthood.”

      At 27, he entered art school, again with a theological purpose. He wrote to his brother, Theo, that he wanted “to try to understand the real significance of what the great artists, the serious masters, tell us in their masterpieces, that leads to God.”

      However, conflicts with his family, especially his father, led him to denounce his family’s religion as hypocritical. At its peak, he refused to go to church with them on Christmas, leading to a break in their relationship. From there, things would deteriorate, and he would go on to marry a prostitute, have a child with her, abandon them both, battle disease, and eventually be put in a mental asylum. The Starry Night was the view from his window in 1889.

      It is an intentionally theological painting. He wrote to Theo that he had a “tremendous need for, shall I say the word—for religion—so I go outside at night to paint the stars.”

      Van Gogh was an Impressionist. The Impressionists tried to capture light in the abstract, and this painting is certainly all about the lights. The first lights that catch our eyes are of course the stars – playful and extravagant, impossibly large and strangely in motion, blown about by the wind. Two spires point our attention towards the sky – the cypress tree in front that burns like a black fire and the church steeple sitting quietly in the background.

      Now hone in on that steeple. Notice that all the houses have their lights on, warm, cozy little abodes. The only building that is dark is the church. Here is Van Gogh’s secret message, hiding in plain sight like a magician’s sleight-of-hand. Mystery, wonder, and spirituality are to be found in nature. The institutional church is dead and lifeless. This was the conclusion that this once fervently religious man came to, son of a stern pastor, rejected by seminary and ministry. The church had not shown him grace, and so he went looking elsewhere.

      He considered the work a failure. He wrote to Theo, “once again I allowed myself to be led astray into reaching for stars that are too big—another failure—and I have had my fill of that.” He left behind some 2000 paintings and 600 letters to his brother. At 37, Van Gogh took his own life. The God of the stars made him wonder but could not heal the wounds of his heart and the troubles of his mind.

      Read Psalm 19. David walks us through the spiritual journey that everyone must take. David discovers the God of nature who provides wonder and warmth, but it is in the written word of God that he discovers God’s identity. Without that, the God of nature is a fierce and unfamiliar thing, bringer of forest fires, earthquakes, and floods. The God of the Scriptures reveals himself as one who does not want the world broken, but rather seeks to heal it and to restore life. That God ultimately revealed himself by walking among us in the flesh and in humility – Jesus of Nazareth. From there, David falls to his knees in confession.

      C.S. Lewis would point to the importance of God’s self-revelation over and above our intuitions from God we get from nature. In Mere Christianity, he writes, “In fact, that is just why a vague religion – all about feeling God in nature, and so on – is so attractive. It is all thrills and no work; like watching the waves from the beach. But you will not get to Newfoundland by studying the Atlantic that way, and you will not get eternal life by simply feeling the presence of God in flowers or music.”

      The Starry Night tells the sad story of a young man on a passionate search for God, yet the church, instead of offering grace, became a darkened building to him. Nature whispered of God’s majesty, but it did not speak of His love. Without the church to carry the name of Jesus, Van Gogh was left with a silent, untamed presence—a God who seemed distant and indifferent.

      Yet, the God who scattered stars across the heavens did not remain distant. Through Jesus, He entered our broken world, bringing light to dark places and healing to wounded hearts. Like a masterpiece explained by its painter, God’s self-revelation in Scripture shows us the purpose and love behind the creation. Only by letting the Great Artist interpret His work can we find our place in the beauty He designed.