Where is My Gaze?

When our parish priest announced that he was moving a few months ago, I wanted to create a quick watercolor painting of the outside of our church as a gift before he left. But as I was scouting Facebook for reference photos, I came across this particular one and felt a nudge to paint it instead. I tried to ignore this nudge, knowing full well that such a detailed oil painting would definitely not be “quick” and would most likely NOT be completed before he moved. (I was correct in both assumptions…) However, I’ve ignored enough nudges before to know that they can often turn into full-blown punches when pushed aside.

So, pick up the oil paints I did. And I’m so glad…

I’d like to take a moment to explain the term “vanishing point” before moving on...it’s important, I promise. Put simply, the vanishing point of a painting is a point where receding parallel lines meet to give the picture depth. Just imagine a straight road moving into the distance. The lines which create the edges of the road would meet together at the vanishing point on the horizon. (I recommend Googling a picture if you aren’t sure what I’m talking about)

Well, what does that have to do with this particular painting?

In the Catholic Church, we believe that the Body and Blood of Christ is truly present in the Eucharist through the appearance of bread and wine. Because of this, the Eucharist is often referred to as the Source and Summit of our faith. Everything about the Catholic Mass points toward Christ's presence in the Eucharist…just like the lines in a picture that point toward a vanishing point.

Walk into a Catholic Church and you will see a tabernacle front and center. It is why we kneel and genuflect so often…

Well, I really struggled when creating the original sketch of this piece specifically because I wasn’t paying any attention to the vanishing point in the original reference photo. (This should have been the first thing I did upon sketching, I’ll admit. I often act like I can get away with ignoring the most fundamental art rules and am always shocked to discover that—surprise!—I cannot) Upon realizing my mistake, I started sketching out my guidelines from the tops and bottoms of the pews as well as above the parishioners’ heads…

And the amazing thing?

All those lines met right in front of the tabernacle. Right where that little white dot was painted in our priest’s hands. Right there in a tiny host we believe to be the Body of Christ.

I don’t think you need me to explain the significance of this. I’m not even sure I have the words to do so accurately…

All I know is that my heart leapt for joy when I drew those lines toward the vanishing point. I certainly did not plan this when starting the painting. And I doubt whoever snapped the original photo during Easter Mass planned it either.

The Lord works in such beautifully subtle ways...

The question I am left asking myself is this.

Where is my vanishing point?

My focal point?

Where do I direct my gaze?

Even when I can’t physically pay attention during the consecration due to rowdy children?

When I am homebound due to sickness?

When our parish doesn’t have access to regular Eucharistic Adoration or even a regular priest?

Where is my gaze?

Christ’s sacrifice was no small thing. And neither is His presence within the Eucharist.

The Church is calling for a Eucharistic Revival right now and it is meant to be deeply personal to each and every one of us. We are not meant to be innocent bystanders as we watch a select few try to make a change. Maybe this “change” is simply redirecting our gaze toward Christ…

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