Meditations on The Creation of Adam
From the Adoration Chapel
* I wrote this yesterday in an almost trancelike state in my parish adoration chapel. Something came over me (I believe it was the Holy Spirit) and this is what I wrote. By the time I finished, my holy hour was up.
As I write this at the beginning of Holy Week in Blessed Adoration, I am once again crying about The Creation of Adam. A little more than a week ago, my husband and I were standing in a huge crowd of our eyes were cast upward as we were packed into the expansive room. We began to sob. The Creation of Adam is not a new, groundbreaking painting. They didn’t just dig this one up from Pompeii (unlike this cool one, which I also saw). This is a famous painting and to some an uninteresting one. Michelangelo, who painted the Sistine Chapel, famously thought the paintings were a disaster. Much less home to one of his most famous paintings. I can picture The Creation of Adam so vividly in my head, hundreds of feet in the air. A small rectangle in a huge room of floor-to-ceiling paintings. Why did this one stand out? Why do I continue to revisit it and cry?
As a cradle Catholic with a seasoned art teacher as a mom, I’ve always known about the painting. It’s in every textbook about the Renaissance. In Faith Formation (Catholic Sunday School), you would find it used in talking about the creation of man and God’s loving relationship with us humans. Michaelangelo has plenty of artistic feats that rival this including the Pietà. While the Pietà has evoked an emotional response to me in the past (especially on Good Friday), it did not do so in person. I sobbed when I first saw The Creation of Adam, and since then I have continued to do so when I think about it. I believe there are a few reasons for it.
I have often felt so far away from God. No matter if I sinned or was ‘good’. If five minutes ago I was in confession or six months ago. I don’t feel like I deserve God’s love. Some apologists might applaud me for being able to experience this theological argument, but it can feel isolating. Sometimes I find myself crying while receiving the Eucharist or in the mass when we say "Lord, I am not worthy, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed." I know this all stems from my childhood and growing up with an abusive father. I was never made to feel enough, nothing I did was worthy of love or affection. I have come to understand this is why I wrestle with this all-loving and forgiving God. I feel unworthy, but God makes me worthy. By His grace and mercy alone, I am made worthy to be in His presence. What does this have to do with the painting?
After meditating and journaling some thoughts, I’ve come to know the why. I feel like Adam. I reach out to God, but I don’t extend my whole arm. I don’t always put in the most effort possible to reach Him. I get distracted by life, real and virtual. I don’t feel like I am worthy, so I don’t put in the work. However, God reaches out to me. He reaches as far as He can. No matter what I do, He is reaching out his hand, ready for me to grab hold. He loves me even in my unworthiness. He grabs hold even when I barely stretch out my arm. The love of the Father transcends all of the negativity I feel about myself. I can do nothing to separate this love. This is why I was sobbing at the Sistine Chapel amongst the talking, loud shouting, pushing, and shoving. God stretches his hand out to us whether we take it or not. We all all Adam in The Creation of Adam. I will continue to cry and continue to love God no matter what state I am in.
I encourage you to meditate on this image as we head into Holy Week and Easter. God sent His only Son for YOU - to be with YOU!