When Heaven Paints Again

By Theresa Rézeau

Religious art has always been more than visual expression. It is the Church’s soul made visible, a sacred mirror of its theology, its longing and its love. Through paint, stone, gold  and silence, sacred art has borne witness to centuries of devotion and divine mystery. In moments of transition, it becomes even more vital, offering a spiritual language when words fall short. Today, as the Catholic Church begins a new chapter, that visual tradition feels both fragile and full of hope.

With the death of Pope Francis, the world paused , not only in mourning but in reflection. His pontificate was marked by a profound embrace of mercy and inclusion, reflected not only in his theology but in the aesthetics of the Church. Under Francis, sacred imagery turned toward the margins: the vulnerable Christ, the migrant Madonna, the aching humanity of a Church called to serve. Now, the brush is lifted again,  and the question rises: what kind of beauty will this new papacy call forth?

Today, we welcome a new Holy Father,  Pope Leo XIV. Congratulations to Pope Leo on becoming the next shepherd of the Church. As a Catholic, I thank God for this blessing. The name Leo carries a powerful, timeless resonance. It feels especially meaningful to me, as I recently named my brother’s baby boy Leo,  a quiet reminder that divine timing often reveals itself in the smallest, most personal ways. The lion has always symbolised strength, courage and kingship, a fitting emblem for a time when the Church must roar not with pride, but with the voice of truth and love.

Many had hoped this would be the moment for an African Pope. The global call was strong, sincere and rooted in the Church’s vibrant growth across the African continent. One of the most prayerfully regarded figures was Cardinal Robert Sarah, a man of deep silence, uncompromising truth and spiritual brilliance. His writings, God or Nothing, The Power of Silence have rekindled the thirst for reverence and depth in thousands of souls around the world. His legacy continues and his voice remains vital. But as today reminds us, skin colour does not matter. God’s timing is perfect. The time will come. For now, what we all seek is what God has already given: Love and Peace.

A new papacy always brings with it a shift , not just in policy but in poetry. Pope Leo XIV steps into a sacred lineage and with him will come a renewed artistic and spiritual vision. What form will sacred beauty take under his care? Will we see a return to classical grandeur, or a bold fusion of global voices from Rome to Lagos, from Manila to London?

One thing is certain: art will continue to reflect the heart of the Church.

We are already witnessing a quiet revolution, an extraordinary resurgence of Catholic faith in Britain, where young people, disillusioned with modern chaos are returning to the Church in search of truth. Drawn by tradition, sacrament and the sacred silence of liturgy, they are finding a home in the beauty of Catholicism. The decline of some Protestant denominations and the growth of Catholic parishes speak not merely to religious shifts, but to deeper cultural tremors. Beauty is no longer optional. It is urgent. In this hunger, sacred art becomes more than decoration, it becomes doctrine, incarnated.

The Catholic Church does not need another celebrity. It needs holiness. It needs courage. It needs beauty that wounds and heals. The sacred art of tomorrow will depend not on trends, but on the spiritual clarity of today’s leadership. And as Pope Leo XIV raises his voice for the first time, beneath the eternal gaze of Michelangelo’s frescoes, the world listens,  as if watching a new painting begin.

We do not simply await policies. We await a vision  of God, of grace, of the sacred made visible. May this new papacy bring with it a revival of faith, and with it, the art that awakens the soul. In the end, all we truly desire is what Christ gave us from the beginning: Love and Peace.