My husband Shann and I love Thursday date nights. They include a home-cooked meal together with candlelight and then an hour watching Stanford’s continuing education class by one of the top professors on the campus. His name is Alexander Nemerov, erudite, with glimpses of brilliance as he fields questions from the class — full of wonder, awe, and reverence as he speaks of paintings, poetry, and God.

He points us to Caravaggio’s painting of the calling of St. Matthew who is surrounded by the tools and implements of his trade. Matthew was a tax collector, hated by many, a betrayer for the sake of money, allied with Rome, the oppressor of the Jewish community.

In the painting, Matthew is caught by surprise. Nemerov describes the touches of the painting most people easily overlook. He connects the turn of Jesus’ hand to Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam in the Sistine Chapel. We consider how a calling is a form of God’s creation in our life; calling us to create with Him, to be an extension of His creativity in the world. 

In the painting, Jesus is moving in a different direction and looking back momentarily to invite Matthew in the direction He is heading. The pivot of Jesus turning back to call Matthew indicates urgency. He is calling Matthew, and the call is clear, but the call requires a decision, a choice. We perceive Jesus is in action and will not wait. The call is now.  

Later in the class, Professor Nemerov contrasts the Caravaggio’s depiction of the St. Matthew’s call with one of his other paintings, St. Matthew’s martyrdom. He explains these two scenes were painted during a similar time. We imagine Caravaggio, one of the greatest painters in history, contemplating the new life/calling and the martyrdom. Shann and I pause to mediate on the similarities.

The calling and the martyrdom are both transitional moments. One from earthly calling to heavenly calling, one from earthly life to heavenly life. What do I know about these two experiences? I have experienced a calling. It was surprising, simple, urgent, and a complete life directional shift. 

I have also witnessed a transition, not a martyrdom but a death. Watching Dad move from earthly life to heavenly life affected me deeply. It was surprising, simple, urgent, and a total transformation.

This is what transcendent art does for our lives. It awakens, deepens, inspires, and reverberates in our minds. It points us to beauty, virtue, goodness. It asks of us and calls us to something greater.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. – Philippians 4: 8