What Exactly IS Catholic Art?

My senior year of college, I attended a Gregorian Chant concert in a Church near my alma mater, Franciscan University of Steubenville.    I was, at that time, just on the verge of graduation, about to earn my "utterly useless" degree in English Literature and Drama, with absolutely no job prospects or plans.  (Not unlike at present, really.  Well, perhaps a little less unplanned at that time.)

The single question I was asked the most, by my dear drama professor, by the President of the College, and even more by complete strangers was: "What was I going to do after school?"

I always admitted that I had no idea.  I'd find out. (1)

Consequently, I was in no mood when a older woman whom I'd never met turned to me after the concert and, finding I was about to graduate, asked the dreaded question.  Groaning inwardly, I smiled and said that I was going to become an author.

"Oh!" said she.  "A Catholic author?"

"No," I said, my perturbation beginning to show through, "an author.  Mostly fantasy novels, I should think."

She furrowed her well-meaning brow as though I had responded in Swahili.

"Ye-e-es," she said, "but a Catholic fantasy author, right?  I mean, you all go to Franciscan University, don't you?  So, you're going to write Catholic novels, right?"

"No," I said with, I'm afraid, very little restraint.  "I have absolutely no intention of writing 'Catholic novels,' whatever those are.  I am a Catholic, yes, and I will write novels.  But they will be fantasy novels, not Catholic novels.  I would hate to write a Catholic novel!"

At that point, thank God, someone rescued us and said that the car had arrived.

However, as rude as I became (and I apologize after the event for my 20-year-old fanaticism), that well-meaning woman's words have remained with me and nettled me ever since.

Several years later, while promoting my (admittedly) Catholic fantasy novel, Niamh and the Hermit - brought to you by God: Making His Followers Eat Their Words Since Time Immemorial - I attended a Catholic author's panel at Boskone.  There, one of the panelists was a priest and scientist at the Vatican Observatory.  In the midst of much opening tom foolery among the panelists and general bonhomie from the conventioners who had all come to the panel directly after Mass, the rather obvious question was put forward:

What makes a Catholic author a Catholic author?

The question was bounced around among the panelists, all of whom quickly agreed to that good priest's assessment:

"Basically, I think," said he - leaning forward into the microphone, with something of a glint of mischief and smugness and wisdom that put one in mind of Gandalf - "the difference between the Catholic novelist and any other novelist is that we all believe that each of our souls is, at every moment, on the edge.  Hence, the hero is always in danger of damnation...and the villain always in danger of salvation.  And isn't that the very essence of drama?"

His assessment (in which he is not alone) struck a chord in me.  As an author, I have found it to be true; as a director, particularly of the great Shakespeare's works, I find it doubly true.  As someone who once was that pretentious 20 year old graduate, I wish I had known those words then so that I could answer that woman, "Yes, of course! I'm a Catholic artist!"  As someone who's also read far too many bad "Christian/Catholic novels" (since I once ran the now-static Christian Guide to Fantasy), I wish more Catholic authors knew this.

Because what I was reacting to - and what many of my fellow Catholic artists have justly criticized is the idea that "Catholic art" is overtly Catholic.  It's the old friction between Lewis' Narnian allegories and Tolkein's Middle Earth. Only, Lewis' allegory is elegant, like Piers Ploughman. Too many modern "Catholic/Christian" artists' work is simply unwatchable/unreadable. It feels like fervent folks writing large with chalk and fortune-cookie Bible quotes. However, truly Catholic work is poetic, is sublime, is written in blood and clouds and mud and dust and the grace of every fallen sparrow. Take a look at Dostoyevsky again, my friends!

It's the reason why, if ever I got to meet that lovely, well-meaning woman again, I should say to her that all my novels and plays have been Catholic, and that I am a Catholic artist who sometimes writes fantasy and sometimes writes in iambic pentameter.

But what I'd clarify is that while, for example, Niamh is an overtly Catholic novel (in that the citizens of that world are simply Catholic, rather like Romeo and Juliet), my Letters of Love & Deception, is more covertly Catholic - since it's Regency a la Jane Austen, and therefore an Anglican world.  Yet marriage is defended in it; something that Catholics and Anglicans and just plain folk could use a dose of.

Similarly, although with the exception of my current play-in-progress, Becket (2), (OK, and obviously The Passion Play and probably Bearskin) I'd say that all my plays are more covertly Catholic.  They all affirm marriage, and the right relation of men to women; they all promote responsibility as the happiest and most satisfying of endings; they all point out the goodness of children; and they all have heroes in danger of damnation and villains in danger of salvation.



So there's one way authors (and playwrights and screenwriters and every sort of story tellers) might classify what they mean by being a Catholic artist.  But the question remains...what about fine artists?  What about musicians?  What about actors?  Game designers?  Architects? 

What is the particularly Catholic charism that infuses our arts?

Sound off in the comments below - and please feel free to leave links to your works and blogs so that we can know about the exciting work you're doing!  Also, don't forget to like us on Facebook and join in the conversation there!

Beer and Benediction: Or how CAUSE Began

The beginnings of things are important.

"In the beginning was the Word..."

"Once upon a time..."

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."

"It is a truth universally acknowledged..."

"Knock, knock...!"

So, maybe it's time to explain just what caused CAUSE.  Which, in this case, was beer and benediction.

Or, more accurately, adoration.

In Which Our Lord is Very, Very Patient with His Daughter.

On January first, my mother dragged me to adoration.  I'm a very poor adorer: I want to be there, but like a continual first date, I often feel that I don't know what to say.  Oh, I pray a rosary, do my morning prayer, stare at Him like St. Jean Vianney's saintly parishioner...and become hyperactively aware of the time.  Often, the thought that I could pop into my local adoration chapel doesn't even cross my mind: like so many others, I'm terribly busy.  I'll see Him face to face Sunday.  Otherwise, He's infinity old and merciful: surely, He can wait!

All of which is to say that no genius of mine was at work that January 1, 2012, when I was dragged by my mother to adoration.  She suggested it; I felt too (rightfully) guilty to say no; we went.

Once there, since I couldn't sing (my favourite way to adore when I can get Him alone - or rather, when He can cajole me), I finished a rosary, finished my daily prayers, stared at Him, and then began a litany of complaints.  Like you do.

It went something like this:

"Hi, God.  How're you doing?  Y'know, Lord, I was reading the Dramatists Guild list of contests, housing, benefit and charitable groups and associations, and there were tons for women, for various ethnicities, for LGBT, for people from Appalachia, for Muslims, for Jews, for Buddhists...for everyone but Christians!  For everyone but Catholics!  What gives?  Where's my guild that will, I don't know, have temporary cheap housing in major cities for artists who need to move to their disciplines' heart?  Where is the guild that connects me to Catholic entertainment lawyers, or reduced health insurance rates from Catholic insurers, or will help fund Catholic artists' projects or...well, where the heck are we?

"Where are the Catholic artists, and why in the world aren't we working together?  Our world's in crisis, Lord, our nation is on the verge of very much martyrdom, our politics speak through our entertainment...and we aren't even in the conversation!  More, we aren't brave enough to open our mouths, all we secret Catholic artists.  What in the world are we doing?  And why aren't we at least doing it together?  We ought to have a real working guild, God.  You really ought to get on that."

His answer, naturally, was to wait for me to stop grousing.

Then He said, quite calmly, "Well, yes, there ought to be one, oughtn't there?"

"Darn right, Lord!" I mentally shouted back at Him.

He looked at me.

I furrowed my brow at Him.

He quirked His brow and said, "Y'know, it really oughtn't be just for playwrights or theatre folks.  Where are the Catholic curators for Catholic fine artists?  Music producers for musicians?"

"Too right!" I agreed.

He nodded.

I checked my watch.

"Do you know what's interesting?" He offered, since Mum was still on her third decade.

"Mmmm?" I asked.

"If this is something for Catholic Artists in, say, the United States, you're only missing a letter."

I looked up at Him.  "Missing a let...wait, hold on...I'll get this...um...carry the three...CAUS - oh!  Hey!  Guess what, God!  That almost spells a really awesome word!  That would, like, sum up everything that Catholic Artists ought to be doing!  Yeah!  And people could casually say, 'Oh, yeah, I'm working for the CAUSE,' and then they would be awesome because they are...working...for the CAUSE.  In fact, Lord, the only cause.  In fact, the Uncaused Cause.  Nice, nice, nice.  What should the 'E' mean?"

It's a really good thing God is patient.

In Which Our Lord, by Means of Beer, Answers Several Burning Questions.

So the seed was born.  A few weeks later, I took the idea on the road.  For the past several years, I've been contemplating the move to NYC, since my main discipline is theatre.  A fellow Franciscan University of Steubenville Anathan Theatre alumnus, Michelle Kafel, has been based out of NYC for the past ten years or so, and invited anyone in the area down to Storm Theatre's production of The London Merchant which had received glowing reviews from the New York Times.  I decided to trek down, take in the show, check out the city for possibly moving there, and run CAUSE by Michelle.

I admit I made a botch out of talking about CAUSE as we made our way from our dinner to the theatre.  Somehow, though, between all the stutters and reverses and explanations and apologies, Michelle understood what CAUSE was about.  And rather more profoundly, she suggested that the "E" might stand for "Effect."

"Because that's what we're trying to do," she said, as we clung to handrails on the jolting subway trip.  "That's what our nation needs: to be affected by Catholic artists.  To be infused.  And every CAUSE should have an effect."

Michelle then proceeded to ask me whether I'd looked into any of the other Catholic artists guilds.

I had, I replied.  For example:

• The Catholic Writer's Guild has put together a beautiful site and active community of authors, who blog, facebook, tweet, hold virtual conferences, and maintain a lively message board.  An excellent model of how to practically network and support.
• The Fraternity for St. Genesius for theatre artists is a group mostly dedicated to prayer for those working in the theatre.
• The Catholic Artists' Society also based in NYC, gives spiritual, emotional and intellectual support to all Catholic artists, no matter their discipline.

All provide support for the intangible parts of our crafts.  However, what often seemed to be missing in our societies, fraternities, and guilds, was practical support.  Prayer is extremely important; so is access to an entertainment lawyer.  Emotional and intellectual stimulation are crucial to the creation of art; so is someone to curate, publish, produce, or promote once the art is complete. 

In point of fact, the story of the Good Samaritan is applicable here:

The Scribe and the Pharisee who passed by doubtless prayed for the fallen Israelite...but they passed by.  The Samaritan stopped and gave his fellow man patronage: he gave him his health insurance, his money, and what goods the beaten man required.  And, I'm sure, he prayed.

So it is with any artist: what he needs is support both spiritual and practical.  He needs to know how to form a business plan.  How to network.  How to collaborate.  The means to do so and survive.  A platform from which to shout His message.  I come from a Franciscan tradition of poverty...but that doesn't mean I want to starve!

Everything came to a head later in the evening, or should I say morning, when I found myself having an unexpected business meeting with a Catholic financier in a bar in SoHo at 3 in the morning while we attended the birthday part of someone we only slightly knew.  (For those who know "Another Hundred People" from Sondheim's Company, it was very that.)  We spoke about CAUSE (Michelle's the world's most amazing hostess!), and about what it needed to be, and about how we need Catholic artists who make both sacred and secular art.

At length, I asked him, "So, you're an audience member, a patron of the arts.  What do you want?"

And he sighed heavily, put down his beer and said with haunted eyes,

"I just want something beautiful."

Wherein the Paraclete is Both a Dove and an Eagle with a Club.

In 1997, I was blessed to go travel to Lisieux to visit the Bacilica of St. Therese. In the lower church is a gorgeous fresco on the ceiling, depicting the Holy Spirit.  However, in this depiction, I swear He looks like an eagle with a club.  I confess that I laughed out loud in the silence when I saw that - because sometimes He is a breath of wind...and sometimes He moves us with a 2x4.

Holy Spirit Eagle Not Pictured.

I truly believe that the Holy Spirit is a-moving within each of our fraternities, societies and guilds.  I truly believe that He is calling us not to revolution - which my dear friend Gilbert Keith Chesterton rightly pointed out just means revolving back to where we were - but to rebirth.  To Renaissance.

He's moved in you and I and so many others we have not yet met.  Each one of us has answered with Mary's "Fiat," to His new birth in us.

So now I'm asking you - on this Feast of the Birth of John the Baptist - to stand up, wave your hand, declare yourself a Catholic artist, proclaim the coming of the Christ, join in His CAUSE (not ours, never ours), and bring His grace and glory to this suffering nation of ours.

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam!