The Season of Creation and making of a crucifix in the spirit of Laudato Si'

Source: Written on behalf of the Religious of E & W

Brother Loarne Ferguson OFM Cap writes: Thanks be to God for the liturgy! How could we ever keep in mind everything the Lord has given us if it were not broken up into our cycle of prayer? Every year is shaped by the events of the Lord's life, the invisible realities of heaven, and the many needs He has sent us out to serve in the world around us. The Season of Creation refreshes our faith in God's care for nature and points the way for us to act rightly within it.

But will it work? Will we change any of our ways because of this time? Do we need a more permanent expression of God's care for nature before His ways become ours? We have become so used to thinking about God in a restricted way that unless the link between Christ's death and the natural world is spelt out, maybe we will keep ignoring it.

It was thoughts such as these which inspired the Laudato Si' crucifix. Not that making it was very intentional - it almost created itself. The garden shed at Durham Friary was where it began. We were clearing out garden debris when Br Paul found three battered and broken crucifixes. "Shall I throw them away?" asked Br. Paul. "No," I said. "I'll take them home and see if I can use them."

One was particularly sad. Under a layer of mould, the wood had been stained black, and the whitened body of Christ was hanging on by one arm (one of the doloristic-style crucifixes of years gone by.) It stood out as the only black and white one of the three: stark and final. But under that surface layer, the wood had lost nothing of its qualities. After carefully prizing out the nails and removing the corpus, a patient hour of sanding began to reveal the tree.

...And then another hour, and another hour. The black stain ran quite deep and never completely disappeared. Somehow, I felt that Jesus would speak only if I could see the pure, clean wood. And that is when it began to turn into a Laudato Si' crucifix. In Jesus' death I had to let nature speak. Carving out the shape of the Saviour's body three millimetres deep revealed it.

Now, Jacob's ladder came to mind and with it, Jesus' words: "Truly, truly I say to you, you will see the heavens opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." (John 1:51.) Or was it really Jacob's ladder I imagined? Was it not perhaps a garden trellis? And were those angels birds? The creative process can be beset with uncertainty and metaphors are not always helpful; but I was sure I had seen that trellis ladder before.

Yes. It was a William Morris design. I printed it out and traced it over the wood. Using a pyrography machine (a sort of fine-tipped soldering iron) I burnt the trellis into the cross. Next, watercolours flowed among the leaves and flowers, and still allowed the wood to shine through. Jesus' body began to bear fruit in a renewed creation. Varnish. More varnish. And yet more. This wood had been thirsty for a long time.

Finally, it was complete. The Laudato Si' crucifix grew out of a reclaimed crucifix and a few meditations on Laudato Si'. Its purpose is to help our journey of ecological conversion become a daily one.

The crucifix and other ecologically inspired art is available for purchase on enquiry at:

The House of the Open Door Community, Childswickham, Worcs. WR12 7HH.

Tel.: 01386 852 084. E-mail: hod@houseoftheopendoor.org.