As I walk through this wicked world
Searchin' for light in the darkness of insanity
I ask myself, "Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred and misery?"

And each time I feel like this inside
There's one thing I wanna know
What's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding?—Nick Lowe, 1974

Artistic freedom is not the first thing that comes to mind when considering a mural commissioned by the Catholic Church. Specifically, the largest mural in the 149-history of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, commissioned by Cardinal Timothy Dolan, Archbishop of New York, and painted by Brooklyn artist Adam Cvijanovic through a competitive process. Titled “What’s So Funny About Peace, Love, and Understanding?” the work was unveiled yesterday. But the mural, comprised of twelve 25-foot-high sections that line the Neo-Gothic landmark’s narthex, completes the mural’s brief—to celebrate the immigrants who flocked here to build and protect this city, and their decendants—as it was envisioned by the artist, whose father emigrated here from Yugoslavia.

During the unveiling yesterday, Cardinal Dolan said, “The whole issue of immigrants has been important for the church, always, but it seems to be a little bit under the limelight today. Some have asked me, ‘Are you trying to make a statement about immigration?’ Surely, mainly that immigrants are children of God.”  Above: Cardinal Dolan with Adam Cvijanovic; photo courtesy of National Catholic Reporter 

With nothing but bad news about the current administration’s inhumane treatment of immigrants, Cvijanovic’s depiction of throngs of people, many of whom seem just like the ones we mingle with every day, is nothing if not surprising. One section of the mural honors Irish immigrants who contributed to the cathedral’s construction. Another depicts the Apparition at Knock, in which, according to Catholic lore, the saints Mary, Joseph and John the Evangelist appeared to locals in the Irish village in 1879 — the same year, Dolan noted, the cathedral opened its doors.

Elsewhere, Irish immigrants are seen arriving on a ship. Other panels show modern-day migrants alongside famous local figures, including journalist and social activist Dorothy Day, Pierre Toussaint, a former slave from Haiti who became a major philanthropist in the city, and former New York Gov. Alfred E. Smith, the first Roman Catholic to receive a major-party nomination for president. At times, they seem awestruck, as in the group of children, seated upon wheeled luggage, gaze skyward at the lamb of God [modeled, the artist says, on an actual New Jersey creature). Unlike a common practice in ecclesiactic art of modeling subjects on wealthy patrons, Cvijanovic has modeled his figures from family members, friends, first responders and local native people, among others.

In a recent interview with The New York Times,  Cvijanovic said, “I want people to be able to see themselves in it”. As anti-immigrant sentiment surged surrounding the election of President Donald Trump, “I thought [the archdiocese] might say, ‘We don’t want to wade in these waters’—and the opposite happened,” the artist told the newspaper. “They said, ‘We want to go right ahead.’” 

Cardinal Dolan praised the painter for creating what he described as “an effusive ode to the greatness of this city and those who came here, and those who have turned into their leaders.” Among those leaders is Rev. Enrique Salvo, the Roman Catholic church’s rector, himself an immigrant from Nicaragua.  Salvo said that the mural was not intended as a political message, according to the, but nevertheless sends a message. “We want anyone that comes in to feel loved and welcomed,” continued Salvo. “It’s a reminder that it doesn’t matter what’s happening ... politically. We have to treat everyone with love and respect.” The work, which was entirely funded by private benefactors, will be dedicated during Mass on Sunday.   The mural’s title, which evokes a song by Nick Lowe that sank like a rock when he released it as a single, but hit the charts in the UK and the US when it was covered by Elivs Costello a few years later, is another nod to the immeasurable value of artistic freedom.