The gospel song “We Are Not Ashamed” by Andraé Crouch says, “God’s word is a light unto my pathway. His word is a lamp unto my feet.” The word of God is a promise of freedom; it lifts burdens and brings new life. It illuminates the path we are called to walk, drawing us closer to him and revealing the purpose he has placed within us.
For the past three years, I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to design the Paschal candle for the Basilica of St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception in Norfolk, Virginia. It has been a privilege to decorate this symbolic representation of Christ, the eternal light who overcomes all darkness.
When our retired pastoral assistant (now liturgical coordinator) Oretha Pretlow first approached me on behalf of our rector, Fr Jim Curran, I had no idea they were intentionally seeking an African-American-themed candle, one that would reflect the rich faith and culture of our parish. I only knew that God had blessed me with a gift of art, birthed from a family whose members have the same talent. When the opportunity arose to again use that gift for ministry, I didn’t hesitate. I told Mrs. Oretha, “Of course. Please let Fr Jim know I’m honored.”
Still, my fears came quickly. I had never painted a candle before in my life. I had worked with clay, wood, acrylic, and even incorporated sand into my art. But this was different. This art would sit just inches from an open flame, during liturgies that are often livestreamed to the world.
Gulp.
Then came the deeper questions: How do you reflect Blackness in sacred art? How can Black identity be expressed through colors and patterns, when Blackness is more than just visual? It’s history, identity, heritage, struggle, hope, resilience, and joy. Trying to capture that felt both intimidating and full of significance.
Lastly, we have an incredible team that faithfully decorates our church to bring life and beauty to the altar. Each arrangement, each drape of cloth, each symbolic element is thoughtfully placed, creating an atmosphere that helps the congregation enter worship more deeply. Easter after Easter, and every season in between, they serve quietly and consistently, turning the sanctuary into a reflection of God’s glory and the soul of our culture. I found myself wondering: How could I possibly keep up with such excellence?
But like so many moments before, I simply said, “Yes, Lord.”
Armed with two candles—just in case I made a mistake—I began my first design with a simple gold band of silver geometric patterns inspired by the diverse cultures of Africa. Timid and unsure, I kept it minimal. One band above and one below the Alpha and Omega already on the candle. Encouraged to be more expressive, I expanded the bands to cover more of the surface.
The second year that I made our candle, I remembered that encouragement and combined it with a new request to incorporate the black, red, and green of the Pan-African flag. I chose not to just paint but to embellish the candle, representing our heritage that shines through.
By the third year, I explored more deeply what it means to be both African American and Catholic. I embraced the colors, the patterns, and the legacy, and this time painted from the heart, trusting the Spirit to guide my hands and allowing my faith to unfold on the candle itself.
From left: Shari Evans' Paschal candles from 2023, 2024, and 2025 at the Basilica of St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception in Norfolk, Virginia. (Eric Labat)
Of course, every week when I see the candle, and its bands of abstract golds, bronzes, reds, greens, silvers, and blacks, I find myself thinking that I should repaint it. A scuff here, a fingerprint there. I’ve even found myself googling new paints and sealants that would help it last longer. But then I pause and realize that the wear and handling are part of its beauty. They represent the life of the Church. The movement, the touch, the activity of a living, breathing faith community.
If I am blessed to paint another Paschal candle in the future, or any candle, I will carry a personal charge to push my creativity as deeply as I push my faith. To be more vibrant, more ornate, and more celebratory. To embrace the joy and splendor.
And I offer a gentle challenge to churches everywhere: Find your young artists and your older artists. Ask them what they see. Ask them what they think could bring more life into the church, how their culture and creativity might reflect God’s glory in your space.
To many of us, art is not just decoration. It’s a form of worship. And through it, we can tell the story of who we are and whose we are.
Shari Evans is a parishioner at the Basilica of St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception in Norfolk, Virginia, the oldest Catholic community in the Diocese of Richmond. She is the creative services lead for a national aviation maintenance school and an allied health and skilled trades school in the Hampton Roads area. She earned a Master of Fine Arts in Visual Studies from Norfolk State University in 2015.
