Podcast
Culture
S&U interviews
4 min read

My conversation with... Molly Worthen

Belle TIndall is fascinated by the intellectual fascination that drove Molly Worthen’s inquiry into faith.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

A woman seated at a table gestures with both hands while talking

Can you think your way into Christianity?  

Can your mind lead the way into something that transcends understanding?  

Is it possible to ‘fake it until you make it’ when it comes to belief in God? 

These are the questions that hold our conversation with Molly Worthen together.  Molly, for those of you who aren’t yet acquainted with her work, is a journalist and associate professor of American history at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. For the past decade, her intellectual sweet spot has been the religious and intellectual history of North America. Flowing from her fascinating research are books such as Apostles of Reason: The Crisis of Authority in American Evangelicalism, as well as pieces for the New York Times, The Atlantic and The New Yorker

Intellectual fascination was her gateway into faith. She used homework, deadlines, schedules and challenges as tools with which she worked out and fine-tuned her beliefs. 

In this episode of Re-Enchanting, Molly very generously walks us through her own story; from a child who would cover her ears when being read Bible stories, to a young adult who could relish the oddity of religious experience from a distance, to a journalist investigating various Christian communities, to a baptised Christian attending a mega-church. It’s quite the journey, but I shall leave it to Molly to unpack the full story, seen as she tells it with the vigour and detail of a historian.   

I find Molly’s story captivating for many reasons, the primary one being that her intellectual fascination was her gateway into faith. She used homework, deadlines, schedules and challenges as tools with which she worked out and fine-tuned her beliefs. She says herself, ‘I needed to process to be rigorous’. How interesting is that?  

Reflecting on the conversation that Justin and I had with Molly, I realise that there are three, rather distinct and yet wholly common, misconceptions about faith that she shatters. I don’t think that she was intending to, I’m not even sure that she was aware that she was doing it. But her fascinating crossing from agnostic to Christian has some interesting philosophical by-products.  

She asserted that she didn’t want to ‘convert out of cowardice’ nor was she interested in succumbing to ‘a bribe’

Firstly, the focused methodology with which Molly approached theism in general, and Christianity in particular, simply dispels the notion that a belief in God must render logic and reason redundant. On the contrary, Molly took step after considered step into her new-found set of Christian beliefs. Her story is one of measured assurance, of ‘not being 99.9 per cent’, but being ‘far north of 51 per cent’.  

Secondly, Molly challenges the assumption that faith is sought out as a method of opting-out of the harshest parts of reality. That it’s held as some kind of cosmic ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card – the ‘jail’ being whatever un-graspable, un-controllable, un-bearable aspect of reality sits most heavily upon us. There’s a common notion that religious people have found a coping mechanism, that they’ve institutionalised their denial and spiritualised their escapism. I’ve often found that notion an interesting one, mostly because I wish that it were true. But it doesn’t quite work that way. Believing in an all-seeing, all-knowing, all-loving God does not mean that one can avoid looking directly at suffering, pretend that it isn’t there, or that it somehow doesn’t ultimately matter. On the contrary, it often requires one to look at it, and wrestle with it, for longer. Nick Cave and Sean O’Hagan’s masterful Faith, Hope and Carnage is an ode to a belief system that resides in the midst of Nick Cave’s pain, as opposed to pulling him out of it. Molly, perhaps from all of her years of research, seemed to know this. She asserted that she didn’t want to ‘convert out of cowardice’ nor was she interested in succumbing to ‘a bribe’. Surely you are convinced by now that Molly Worthen is about as fascinating as it gets? 

And finally, it was interesting to hear Molly speak of the choices, both micro and macro, that have led her to where she now finds herself. After all, faith is a choice. It reminds me of the philosopher, William James, who proposed that there are certain beliefs that can’t be evidenced until they are believed. For example, you cannot determine whether a chair will hold your weight until you sit on it believing (at least to a reasonable extent) that it can. This is partly (but profoundly) true of God; while one can ponder the empirical evidence for the existence of God for a lifetime, it is often the case that experiential evidence for God is available once you believe it. This doesn’t mean that belief must be a wholly blind choice, that would only negate my first point, but it is a choice. Again, Molly wonderfully encapsulated the tension of this notion in recalling that,  

“what was really preventing me from engaging with this evidence is my own commitment to materialism and my own deep epistemological groove. But if I’m willing to suspend that, what happens?... You can walk right up to it and get to the point where you’re still faced with a leap of faith, but it’s no longer a ten-mile leap into the dark, it’s a leap based on a pretty reasonable body of evidence. And it turns out that to reject that leap is itself and act of faith.” 

This episode of Re-Enchanting is a personal, and therefore profoundly interesting, one. We speak to Molly, not of how her field of work has been re-enchanted by the mystery and wonder of the Christian story, but how she has. And that makes this episode incredibly worth your time.  

Review
Art
Awe and wonder
Culture
5 min read

This gallery refresh adds drama to the story of art

Rehanging the Sainsbury Wing revives the emotion of great art

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

An art gallery arch reveals a suspended crucifix and other paintings in a distant room
The Sainsbury Wing interior.

The Sainsbury Wing of the National Gallery has recently reopened after closure for two years for building works. There was controversy over the designs for the Sainsbury Wing in the planning stage but its use, once built, to tell the story of the early stages in the development of Western art was widely welcomed and appreciated.  

The story that it told is essentially the story of Christian art and so the reopening of the Sainsbury Wing together with the rehanging of the National Gallery’s collection provides an opportunity to review that story. As a result of the completed work over 1,000 works of art - a larger proportion of the collection than has been previously displayed - trace the development of painting in the Western European tradition from the 13th to the 20th centuries from beloved favourites to paintings never previously seen in the National Gallery.  

The Sainsbury Wing features works from the medieval and Renaissance periods. Painting came of age during this time. It moved from manuscript illumination to images on panel and canvas, overtaking metalwork, tapestry and sculpture as the most popular and prestigious art form in Europe.  

An opening room contains works from the 14th to the 16th centuries, including The Wilton Diptych and Leonardo Da Vinci’s The Virgin of the Rocks, which together ask visitors to consider the full spectrum of what painting can do. This introductory room gives a sense of what these paintings were for and how they were used. Painting’s rise in status was due to all the things it can do such as tell complex stories, convey human emotions, fool the eye, capture a likeness, make viewers laugh, weep, pray and think. This room provides a sample of those achievements and the various functions painting fulfilled.  

Throughout the Sainsbury Wing, new display cases are used to show paintings as objects viewed from all sides, not simply as flat panels on walls. Medieval altarpieces often had winged panels that could be opened or closed depending on the season or occasion. An example is included here to show how such hinged panels were used. 

From this introductory room spanning the period, visitors can follow either a Northern European route or Italian route around the space, enabling influences between both to be highlighted. The key change explored on both routes is that artists in this period began to create a convincing illusion of reality in their paintings.  

The earliest paintings in the National Gallery Collection were made in central Italy nearly 800 years ago. These naturalistic and intimate images of love, grief and suffering responded to a new interest in the humanity of Christ. A chapel-like space is entirely dedicated to Piero della Francesca whose work, with its cool colour palette and keen sense of space and light, possesses a dignified solemnity. Another room focuses on the spiritual power of gold-ground scenes of devotion, exploring the way gold in paintings was used to evoke the timeless, spiritual significance of Christ, the Virgin and saints, and set these holy figures apart from our world. 

The galleries in the Sainsbury Wing were designed to evoke, for visitors, a Renaissance Basilica. Its architectural features make it possible to display paintings in a similar way to how they would have originally been encountered. The central galleries form the nave of the basilica and all the altarpieces displayed are now there. These galleries are devoted to works made in Florence, Venice, and Siena. The early Florentine room represents the principal point of departure for this new art. In the Venetian room we see the development of perspective, while the Siena room resembles a side chapel in the basilica.  

An altarpiece made for the church of San Pier Maggiore in Florence by Jacopo di Cione and his workshop has been reconstructed and sits on an altar-like plinth to evoke the view of it originally seen by worshippers. Predella panels by Fra Angelico are displayed in a case in front of this altarpiece giving an indication of the way in which predellas interacted with a larger, grander altarpiece. The positioning of these two works also illustrates the movement in terms of realism found in the paintings of this period. The Ascension scene on the altarpiece depicts a statue-like ascended Christ while Fra Angelico’s resurrected Christ in the predella is more realistically floating in the air. 

In a first for the National Gallery, Segna di Bonaventura’s Crucifix is visible down the central spine of the Sainsbury Wing, suspended from the ceiling. This enables today’s audiences to view the work in the way it would have been seen in the 14th century. Painted crucifixes were common in 13th- and 14th-century Italian churches, often displayed high-up like this one. Rood screens on which such crucifixes were originally placed were often destroyed in the Counter Reformation, which led to crucifix’s then being hung from the ceiling, as is the case here. 

The rehang also presents several works back on display after long-term conservation projects. The Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian by Antonio del Pollaiuolo and Piero del Pollaiuolo is back on show after nearly three years of conservation and scientific examination. 

The rehang of The Sainsbury Wing brings to life the way artists forged a new way of painting, painting with a drama that no one had seen before.

Despite the religious and political upheaval caused by the Reformation, the arts also flourished in Northern Europe during this time. Prints transformed the exchange of artistic ideas. Christians were encouraged to use images as a focus for meditation on the lives of Christ and the saints and paintings that were meant to be handled and examined close-up were created for the private devotion of members of religious orders and laypeople. Albrecht Dürer and Lucas Cranach were key figures, with Dürer’s prints, portraits, altarpieces and non-religious subjects transforming painting both in the Holy Roman Empire and beyond. 

Christianity became the predominant power shaping European culture after classical antiquity, inspiring artists and patrons to evoke the nature of sacred mysteries in visual terms. The rehang of The Sainsbury Wing brings to life the way artists forged a new way of painting, painting with a drama that no one had seen before and with stories flowing across panels in colourful scenes. These displays also promote a greater understanding of how works of art were, and still are, used as models of moral behaviour, as celebrations of the deeds of holy figures or as a plea for one’s hopes, both in this life and in the afterlife. 

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