Beauty as the gateway to God

Immanuel Kant considered the three great categories of theology as truth, goodness, and beauty.  Most of us jump into talking about God from the 'truth' end of the categories. You know the sort of thing I mean - we begin our chats about faith on the basis of this or that about God. We start on the doctrinal end of the spectrum like a lawyer in court arguing a case. It is a very Western way of doing things where the language is legalistic. 

I remember as a child our parish priest subjected (yes - subjected) us to a visiting preacher from one of the other churches for the sermon on midnight mass. There in the beautiful candlelit atmosphere where we had sung these haunting carols this man in a suit and tie and tried to sell the Gospel. Every time he bellowed out Lord's name "Jeezzus" I could see the congregation cringe.  Even our godly priest was visibly wincing in his stall. It's not just that as Brits we oppose a 'hard sell' it is that something beautiful was being reduced to a packet of sausages. The magic that evening went.

I decided that at midnight mass I would never perform the hard sell like a salesman at the door or a lawyer in front of the jury. What is the preacher to do? A few years back I decided to preach at Christmas on the ecstasy of Saint Theresa of Avila by demonstrating to the congregation the delights of chocolate. People still chuckle about this. 

Here is the quote from the 16th Century mystic on a deeply charismatic, near erotic, experience of meeting God. The famous sculpture by Benelli must be one of the most exquisite pieces of Western art EVER!  

"... Beside me, on the left hand, appeared an angel in bodily form... He was not tall but short, and very beautiful; and his face was so aflame that he appeared to be one of the highest rank of angels, who seem to be all on fire... In his hands I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. This he plunged into my heart several times ... and left me utterly consumed by the great love of God. The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans. The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul then content with anything but God. This is not a physical, but a spiritual pain, though the body has some share in it-even a considerable share ..."

So I shared with the congregation that chocolate can be delightful but much of what we consume is a very poor imitation. I am lucky enough to have lived in Belgium-Bruxelles where our shop sold lots and lots of the stuff. I have ever since a real taste for it. What we are sold as confectionary hardly contains the full effect of the magical bean, if you want that then you need to start having 70% at least pure chocolate and, importantly, dark. 

I am told that a hospital ward in Derriford gives dark chocolate to patients rather than paracetamol. (Time to do some hospital visiting - long overdue!) But, dark chocolate is bitter. It sucks up the moisture in your mouth. It needs to be savoured. The usual confectionary stuff is hardly chocolate and more sugar rush. 

So Christmas is a bit like the dark chocolate. It is good for you, it can bring delights, even ecstasy (Gloria in Excelsis Deo moments) but it is bitter. The bitterness of Christmas includes poverty, rage, occupation, murder, and exclusion. The sugary Christmas avoids all of this and presents only half the story. 

That third theological category of beauty/bliss is the surer way to argue for God. This has a good pedigree - the great 20th Century theologian Hans von-Balthasar began his adult life more entranced by art and music as a means to access God rather than dogma. He had nothing against dogma but sure this as the wrong starting place. He was a fantastic pianist who remembered all the works of Mozart by heart. When he became an academic theologian this sense of the beauty of things was his starting point. 

It could be ours too.