The Cecilia Resource Room in Crossroads

The diverse artwork in this room reflects the importance of prayer, art, and music ministry at St. Peter’s. In Jesus’ name, all are welcome here.

The Cecilia Room is given in loving memory of Lori Cuffari.

Icon of St. Cecilia
by Kristen Wheeler/Modern Iconographer

Artist Statement: We all know the Simon and Garfunkel song “Oh Cecilia, you’re breaking my heart…Whoah-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.” Now that it’s officially stuck in your head, would it surprise you to know that “Oh Cecilia” is named after Saint Cecilia of Rome, the patron saint of musicians? While I am quite sure the rest of the song is not actually referring to Cecilia of Rome herself because she was a virgin and martyr, and not a girl who spent the afternoon in one’s bed if you know what I mean, it is said that the song may refer to the “frustration and fleeting inspiration of songwriting.” Interesting fact: St. Cecilia is mentioned in another Paul Simon song, "The Coast" (from his 1990 album The Rhythm of the Saints): "A family of musicians took shelter for the night in the little harbor church of St. Cecilia…"

The story goes that Cecilia was a stunningly beautiful noble woman who walked ancient Rome in the 3rd century. She was young, probably between 12-15 years old, when she was betrothed to a young pagan man named Valerian. Cecilia had a very close relationship with God and was visited by angels on a regular basis who told her she must remain a virgin, a big ask for someone about to get married at the height of puberty.

At the ceremony, Cecilia sang to God (one reason she’s the patron Saint of musicians) with all her heart to keep her wits about her and honor the miracle of virginity within an arranged marriage. On their wedding night, she begged Valerian to keep her innocence instead of consummating and said that an angel was watching over them. When the bridegroom asked to see this angel for himself, Cecilia told him he would only be able to witness this miracle of heaven if he converted to Christianity was baptized – a big ask for a young pagan man who just got married and is ready to, ya know, consummate. He obliged, and an angel with fiery wings appeared to them after his baptism:

“…two crowns interwoven with roses and lilies, one of which he placed upon the head of Cecilia, and the other upon that of Valerian.” Then Valerian said to his pagan brother: “Thou wilt then know Him whose blood is crimson as roses, whose flesh is white as lilies. Cecilia and I wear crowns which thy eyes cannot yet behold. The flowers of which they are composed, are brilliant as purple, and spotless as snow.” (from Prosper Guéranger’s Life of Cecilia: Virgin and Martyr)

Cecilia, Valerian, and Valerian’s brother Tiburtius, all now devout followers of Jesus, helped to convert over 400 pagan people of Rome in a time that Christians were being persecuted by death. Valerian and Tiburtius were murdered in the streets for openly expressing their beliefs and Cecilia refused to hide or stand idly by. Her persecutors sought her out while preaching to people outside of the church.

It is said that Cecilia was first taken to the Roman steam baths and locked in, a sufferable way to perish. Instead, the bystanders could hear her angelic voice singing to the heavens (another reason Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians). Well past the time anyone else would have passed out, the steam baths were opened and to the astonishment of the crowd gathered, Cecilia walked out completely unscathed. She was then sentenced to a beheading. After three strikes of the sword, her head did not sever, and Cecilia was left bleeding in the streets for three days before she finally passed. While she lay in waiting of sure and agonizing death, Cecilia’s exquisite voice echoed (yet another reason for her patronage), singing God’s praises to her friends that gathered around in mourning. Afraid to move her body, they sat next to her praying and soaked up their handkerchiefs and garments with her precious blood, knowing she was favored in God’s eyes.

An incredible baroque sculpture of Saint Cecilia by Stefano Maderno is displayed in the church of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere, Rome. It was created after the supposed incorrupt body of Cecilia (and supposedly first known incorrupt body of a Saint!) was found entombed under the altar of the church in 1600.

While Cecilia’s story could easily be mistaken for a young Juliet-like ingénue on the Shakespearean stage, there are accounts that she actually existed. Whether she was truly a young angelic virgin, visited regularly by fiery-winged angels, with a crown of roses and lilies upon her head that no one could see, who converted her pagan husband and 400+ people, was tortured in a steam bath, gruesomely attempted to be beheaded, laid dying in the streets for 3 days bleeding from her neck, all while singing God’s praises for her sufferings, conversions, and martyrdom, leaves a lot of questions we can never truly answer. We may not know for sure that a 3rd  century martyr had these experiences, but we do know she has inspired generations with her fantastical story of song. You can find her name venerated through music notes and lyrics from classical church hymns to rock and roll and everything in between.

“The language of music is common to all generations and nations; it is understood by everybody, since it is understood with the heart.”

– Gioachino Rossini

Perseus
by Julio daCunha

Julio daCunha was born in Bogota, Colombia and following studies in Colombia and Mexico City, attended the University of Florida and graduated with a bachelors degree in architecture in 1952. He arrived in Delaware in 1956 to teach at the University of Delaware following the completion of his master of fine arts degree at Cranbrook Academy of Art. DaCunha served as department chair from 1966 to 1969 and taught until his retirement in 1994.

The artist exhibited throughout the northeast and in his native Colombia under the surnames Acuna, Acuña, Acunha, and Da Cunha. Solo exhibitions of daCunha's work have been held at Hardcastle's and the Fifth Street Gallery in Wilmington, Delaware; at Zegri Gallery and Pleiades Gallery in New York; and at the Delaware Art Museum and the Delaware Center for the Contemporary Arts. The artist placed himself within the Spanish tradition and cites the influences of Arshile Gorky, Paul Klee, Pablo Picasso, Roberto Matta, and Francisco de Goya.

Advent Angels
by

This ink sketch was created in 1981 as a worship bulletin cover for an Advent service at Messiah Lutheran Church in Des Moines, IA. It is a lovely example of using the gifts of creativity and generosity given to us by God, to God’s glory.

Let There Be (Creation)
by Lauren Wright Pittman

Artist Statement: The creation narrative in Genesis cries out to me as an affirmation of everyone’s creative voice. God literally speaks creation into being. God’s words result in the swirling out of light and water and sky and earth and fruit and trees and stars and winged birds and sea monsters and cattle and creeping things and wild animals and humankind and rest. This kaleidoscope of astounding creativity comes spinning and rippling out of God’s creative voice. How powerful the creative mind is. How powerful it is when it is unleashed and shared with the world.
Genesis 1 has always moved in a radial fashion in my imagination. I decided to create rippling rings of creation, one building on the next, to show that the work of creation is not finished with God’s rest—the work continues. The work of creation doesn't end with Jesus' death—he still lives. The new creation has just begun to unfurl. We are called into the active and often difficult work of creating beauty in the world. Our act of continuing God’s creation is the act of bringing justice into the world. Beauty begets beauty.

Jubilee (Inspired by Leviticus 19:9-10; 25:8-12)
by Lauren Wright Pittman

Artist Statement: In the Year of Jubilee, God offers rest—a break for farmers, relief for those experiencing economic injustice, and Sabbath for the land. This radical rest is counter to the rhythm of our lives; it resists valued ideologies like efficiency and productivity and has broad economic implications. Jubilee has remained a theoretical, hopeful concept tucked away in scripture. This kind of radical slowing down is difficult to imagine, however... so is a global, economy-halting pandemic.

Rest feels unnatural in a pandemic, but it’s available to us if we are willing to receive it. Rest slows our vision and illuminates gifts that normally whirl by us. While sheltering in place, I’ve searched for positivity, and during such great loss, I’ve found more—more time, space, and color. I found a patch of mint in my yard, and the scent became my soul’s balm. Rest offers recovery. The earth is thriving with a break from humanity. Scientists are seeing significant decreases in air pollution and animals are returning to previously uninhabitable waterways.

Rest offers perspective. God does not want us worn ragged, reaping the maximum extent of our harvest. God wants new eyes for us to recognize broken systems so we can enact change that sustains everyone: ‘You shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the Lord your God’ (v.10). God is found in the connective tissue of our relationships to our neighbor—particularly those most vulnerable.

Rest reminds us of our interconnectedness. Despite physical distancing, people are rediscovering one another while longing for and celebrating every moment of connection. Despite future insecurity, people are finding innovative ways to support one another. Rest uncovers the enoughness in our lives, and as my dear mentor used to say, ‘Enough is abundance.’ What will we glean from this time of rest?”