The Deacon

What do angels have to do with being a permanent deacon? It turns out, a lot. Surprisingly, we can find evidence of a relationship between angels and deacons in the world’s art museums. This is because much of 15th-century Northern European art (“Northern Art”) is populated with angels vested as deacons. Why? To answer, we must begin by connecting some dots.

First, the literal biblical meaning of the Greek word angelos is “messenger.” It does not imply that the message bearer is a created spirit. In fact, sacred Scripture refers to both human beings and non-corporeal beings as angelos. Only in modern parlance has the word “angel” come to refer to created spiritual beings.

Second, Eastern Churches have firmly held onto the ancient idea that deacons and angels are related, because deacons, who serve at Mass, are living images of the angels who serve the heavenly liturgy.

Third, in John 1:51, Jesus declares to Nathanael that he will see “the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man” (RSV). In this connection, one ancient Eastern liturgist, Theodore of Mopsuestia, held that John 1:51 makes it necessary that we think of deacons as the earthly counterparts of the angelic servants. For him, Jesus’ words to Nathanael casts a light that also shines on the diaconate. In Northern Art, angels are almost universally depicted vested as deacons. Apart from a few explainable exceptions, they are never depicted as wearing priestly vestments.

Provocative Images

Presented as Figure 1 is a group of paintings by Robert Campin called the “Mérode Altarpiece.”

Provocatively, Campin incorporated a detail signifying that the angel Gabriel belongs to the order of deacons — he wears a deacon’s stole. This detail constitutes a remarkable visual fusion of the two orders, angels and deacons.

An early written account about the deacon St. Lawrence will serve to introduce another painting entitled “Altarpiece of St. Denis.” The account is found in St. Ambrose’s fourth-century work “De Officiis.” St. Ambrose retells the narrative about the sorrowful farewell spoken by St. Lawrence to Pope St. Sixtus II. As a Roman cohort led Sixtus away to his martyrdom, Lawrence reminded him about the relationship between a bishop and his deacon. A 19th-century translation poetically renders the tearful reminder in the following terms:

“St. Lawrence, who, seeing (Sixtus) his bishop led to martyrdom … began to address him: ‘Whither, (1) “father,” goest thou without thy “son”? Whither, (2) “holy priest,” art thou hastening without thy (3) “deacon”? Never wast thou wont to offer sacrifice without an attendant … to him dost thou refuse a part in thy death?’” (emphasis and numeric insertions added). For Lawrence the three-part core of his relationship with his bishop is (1) father and son, (2) priest and deacon and (3) offerer and attendant.

Figure 2 is a copy of the “Altarpiece of St. Denis.” It is an imaginative depiction of the martyrdom of St. Denis, his priest, St. Rusticus, and his deacon, St. Eleutherius.

The painting’s right side depicts the vested deacon, Eleutherius, standing in attendance with hands bound. With eyes narrowly opened, he gazes at his bishop as his bishop suffers death. Unlike the sorrowful account of St. Lawrence’s separation from his bishop, the painting imagines that Eleutherius witnessed his bishop’s martyrdom. Thus the image is a touching counterpoint to the account of St. Lawrence’s mournful farewell to Pope Sixtus.

On the left, an angelic deacon wearing a blue alb attends to Christ who gives viaticum to St. Denis. The angel assisting Christ from behind wears a stole crossed at the breast, a sign of the priestly office. However, his alb is red, the color of martyrdom. Thus the angel may have a particular relationship to the priest Rusticus whose body lies near the cross. One possibility is that he is Rusticus’ guardian angel.

On the right, one can see the distinctive form of blue dalmatic worn by Denis beneath his chasuble. According to the ancient vesting practice, a bishop who presides at solemn high Mass puts on the dalmatic under his chasuble. The double vesting can signify the bishop’s fullness of ministry and the mystical union between a bishop and his deacon.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Eucharistic Amazement Through Visio Divina

Dr. Jem Sullivan, who writes a monthly art reflection in The Priest magazine, is the author of “Way to Beauty: Rekindling Eucharistic Amazement through Visio Divina” (OSV, $18.95). As we are created for beauty, a visible form of truth and goodness, Sullivan helps us discover a sense of Eucharistic amazement through the beauty of sacred art. The pieces of art chosen for the book depict the theology, history and spirituality of the Mass.

“Way of Beauty” focuses on 12 masterpieces of sacred art. The book introduces the practice of visio divina, “sacred seeing.” Alongside each work of art are the prayers of the Mass, passages from Scripture and the Catechism of the Catholic Church and a guided reflection. Each reflection offers a pilgrimage of beauty to encounter how the desire and promise of Jesus to be with his disciples continues today in the gift of the Eucharist.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Eleutherius possesses a captivating, otherworldly presence as he attends to his bishop. He casts an aura of placid attentiveness in stark contrast to the surrounding mayhem. Eleutherius seems oblivious to the intimidating presence of his tormentors as he gazes on a mystical world whose only other inhabitant is his bishop. Thus, according to the image, his attendance may be fairly characterized as an act of contemplation. If so, then Eleutherius is the image of contemplative attendance distilled to exceptional purity.

In the end, Eleutherius acts as a sort of master of theological ceremony who says not a word. He merely gazes in the direction of the sacrifice. The deacon, thereby, silently calls to the beholders who roam about in the art gallery.

Gaze direction is a scientifically observed phenomenon whereby persons typically follow with their own eyes the gaze of others who are looking at some event. Eleutherius bears himself as if saying to anyone in the gallery who happens to stop by: “Come, attend with me.” Thus his stilled gaze is a compelling summons to beholders to attend to the sacrifice.

Figure 3 depicts St. Michael doing battle on behalf of a consecrated virgin. The angelic champion’s battle dress comprises an alb, diaconal stole and cope.

Figure 4 shows angelic deacons at heaven’s gate vesting those counted among the blessed.

Figure 5 depicts a vested angel fulfilling the role of minister of hospitality without a vesting rite.

Figure 6 is a detail from the central panel of a triptych known as the “Beaune Altarpiece.” The angelic deacon’s vestments become the judicial vestiture of a minister of state who dispenses the divine judgment.

The three panels of Figure 7 depict angelic deacons who serve as liturgical musicians.

Of course, the deacon has the collateral tasks of ensuring that all preparatory details of the sacrifice are accomplished. Yet, although these tasks are spiritually significant, they are secondary. Insofar as possible the deacon is still and focuses on the offerer and the offering. By directing his gaze toward the offerer and the offering, he assists the assembly, leading it to see the sacrifice through the still lens of his own eyes.

Figure 8a is a painting entitled “Étienne Chevalier and St. Stephen.” It depicts Chevalier and deacon St. Stephen, who holds a book crowned with the stone of martyrdom.

Careful observation of Figure 8b shows a stream of blood trailing down from the back of Stephen’s head. It demonstrates that Jean Fouquet depicted the blood of martyrdom in an elegantly quiet way. I suppose the artist could have rendered St. Stephen’s face and his dalmatic overpainted with blood red to a greater or lesser extent. But perhaps that would have been inconsistent with liturgical decorum.

Attendance at Sacrifice

The image of St. Eleutherius teaches a lesson concerning the deacon’s comportment in the sanctuary. Eleutherius is bound and stands still at a distance. He draws all beholders into his bishop’s self-offering by his stillness and his directing gaze. The wise attending deacon does not make busy in the sanctuary. Rather, he keeps his movements to a minimum. He should, perhaps, consider himself bound in his attendance as Eleutherius is bound.

There is a ministerial relationship between the deacons and the angels that may be likened to an ecclesial order of attending servants. The core ministerial function consists in attending those who offer sacrifice to God both in the liturgy and apart from it. Attendance may also be characterized as a contemplative act whereby the deacon, in an act of self-donation, gives himself completely to his attendance to the one who offers sacrifice.

In this exercise, art has lent generous assistance to beholders who seek to deepen their understanding of the deacon’s ministry. The cited images lead beholders along a well-lit meditative pathway toward theological insight. In fact, it is beauty itself that illuminates truth’s pathway.

Authentic beauty quietly disarms the beholder of his shield of skepticism. Without saying a word, beauty convinces the beholder that it is safe to lower the shield’s dreary burden. Having been disarmed, the beholder surrenders to the image’s truth. He thus allows Truth to penetrate his being so that Truth may, as it were, paint his own reflection in the depths of the beholder’s soul. Indeed, beauty is like a paintbrush in the hand of Truth. She is the homily preached to the eyes.

DEACON GERARD CHARETTE is a permanent deacon of the Diocese of London (Ontario, Canada), and is studying art history at the University of Toronto.