A Guest Post by Janet Cupo
Janet and I were discussing, in email, the power of certain Christian symbols. I mentioned that in an unfinished (and probably never to be finished) novel I have a character who’s not Catholic but is quietly haunted by the image of the Sacred Heart as a symbol of the relationship between love and suffering. This reminded her of the novel My Name is Asher Lev, which I haven’t read.
It has been a long time since I read the book, but I think I have the story essentially correct.
Asher Lev is a young Hassidic boy who has a remarkable artistic gift. His parents are not particularly happy about this, thinking that it may come from Satan (image-making after all). However, his father works for the Rabbi and the Rabbi, who isn’t entirely convinced that it is good either, believes that Asher should study art.
When Asher is a young man, the Rabbi arranges for him to live and study with a famous artist, who is an apostate Jew. Asher continues to be observant throughout his apprenticeship. The most important thing that Asher learns from his teacher is that there are images in the culture that are so powerful, so evocative, that if you want to say certain things, you have to make use of these images.
So, when Asher later goes to Rome to study art he is drawn by a statue of the Pieta. He spends a long time examining it and thinking about it and finally begins to draw his mother in this likeness. He is not comfortable using this Christian image, but he knows it's the only way to convey what he wants to convey.
During his youth, Asher’s father did some sort of dangerous work for the Rabbi in Eastern Europe. Throughout the story, we see his mother standing, silent, raising the Venetian blinds and staring through the window. She waits and waits for her husband to return, and Asher can see her pain, fear, and grief in her very aspect. Finally, when he paints his masterpiece, it is a picture of his mother crucified on the mullions of the window, held there by the cords of the Venetian blinds. This brings him great critical acclaim, but of course, distances him from his family–bringing about a new kind of crucifixion, I suppose for his mother.
Chaim Potok, the author, sees these essential symbols as being conditioned by our culture, and this is true. It doesn’t necessarily have to be Christian symbols–we see all the time how Christian authors use pagan symbols in the same way. However, I believe that there is more to it than that. I believe that some Christian symbols, like the two mentioned above and the Sacred Heart, convey truth that is beyond the culture. When we are confronted by these symbols, we’re confronted with a truth that originates outside the culture, outside the material world. It’s this use of sacramental imagery that makes Catholic authors—authors like O’Connor and Percy, but even non-practicing Catholics—so powerful.
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