Dear Friends in Christ,

Most parishioners at Saint Philip’s will have no idea that built into the altar is a beautiful carved panel of Christ in Majesty (Maiestas Domini), one of the traditional representations of Our Lord. Here is the Judge, seated on a throne, holding the Orb, and extending three fingers in blessing. The image is almost certainly late-seventeenth or early-eighteenth-century Spanish Colonial.

Originally, it would have been gold-leafed and painted, but only thin flakes of gesso remain today. The original panel is a trapezoid. Around it is a probably twentieth-century frame, with beautifully carved scrolls and acanthus leaves that almost seamlessly align with the historic piece.

The artist of the first carving is lost to the sands of time, but we may know the name of the woodcarver from the 1930s, because—rather cheekily—something’s painted on the back: A. Reyes Gonzalez, Nogales, Sonora.

Though this may have been the importer, if it was indeed the craftsman, it tells a wonderful story: after he painted it, he installed his beautiful workmanship into the altar and covered up his own name for ninety years. Churches are full of things like this: expressions of human skill and devotion to which no names are appended (or if they are, so subtly that the casual observer will never notice).

Yes, there are always grand memorial plaques and windows. But think of the countless, nameless artists, architects, builders, craftspeople, and gardeners, who have left their mark on this place—and indeed all our churches. Think of the countless worshippers who have gradually worn grooves in pews and communion rails, have scuffed the floors, and worn down the kneelers.

I think I’ve mentioned once or twice what a priest mentor said to me on a hot summer’s day as the smell of incense wafted down out of some old oak beams: that’s the smell of a century’s worth of prayers and praise, still bound up in the fabric of the place.

The Christ panel is off to be restored. When it is put back, it will—for the first time in many years—face the people again. Perhaps the next time you see it exposed you will think of the two artists who gave so much of their skill to it. Say a prayer for the repose of their souls. But not for them only. Pray for all those who have given something of themselves to the life of this parish across the last century.

Wonderful work is being done on the façade, the roof, and in the sanctuary this summer to preserve, safeguard, and restore this beautiful place in which we worship. It will look the same, but it will have changed—isn’t that a metaphor for Christian worship? A great many people will have given of their skill and craftsmanship and devotion, all to the greater glory of God. We will recognize them, but in the grand arc of history, our individual contributions to this place will also be lost to the sands of time.

But not lost to God, for whom “even the hairs of our heads are all numbered.” (Matthew 10:30)

Yours in Christ,

—Fr Matthew