The divine is in the details: “Madonna with Canon Joris van der Paele” by Jan van Eyck

On close looking and the need for awe

Dear friend,

Greetings from Flanders! This past week, Mark and I spent a day in Bruges. This beautiful example of a medieval city is truly one of the most charming places I’ve ever visited, a true jewel box.

History and luxury are inextricably bound there. By the 15th century, Bruges was one of the wealthiest cities in Europe, and the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk (the Church of Our Lady) reflects this prosperity. It has the third tallest brickwork spire in the world and was built between the 13th to 15th centuries. Historical figures like Charles the Bold are interred there, and the wealthy Lodewijk van Gruuthuse built his mansion adjacent so that he and his family could attend mass from a special balcony that connected the two buildings. Amidst the soaring structure, gold leaf, delicate stained glass windows, elaborate wood carvings, and intricate metalwork adorn much of the building. The church even includes an exquisite Madonna and Child sculpture* by Michelangelo, purported to be the first to leave Italy during his lifetime, which was bought by two merchant brothers from Bruges. This is a church made by wealth, for the wealthy.

And also for the Christian god, right? All of this sumptuousness was also intended as an act of devotion, a sacrifice of personal wealth to the church in order to ensure the message of Christ continues for future generations—as well as securing a more favorable afterlife for the donors. It always catches me, this tension between what’s expected and what is given. Unlike with the Greek gods who demanded burnt sacrifices, how do we know what divinity (however we define it) demands of us now, if anything? Yet there is still that human urge, isn’t there, to offer.