A brand-new exhibition at London's National Gallery titled Monochrome: Painting in Black and White showcases 700 years of human art completed in monochrome – using black and white, or a gradient of just one colour. The already-acclaimed exhibit includes deeply religious works and prompts a question for contemporary believers: is Christianity a black-and-white faith?

Thoughtfully concieved by curators Jennifer Sliwka and Lelia Packer, Monochrome begins with the story of Cistercian monks of the Middle Ages who believed colour to be a distraction from true contemplation, and believed worship was better served without it. Through black-and-white surroundings in church, the mind could be freed from excessive stimulation and the soul could be brought closer to God.

The tour ends with an intriguing and immersive epilogue, drawn this time from modernity, that literally casts the exhibit in a new light. Olafur Eliasson's light installation Room for one colour (1997) bathes its visitors with a fierce yellow glow that eliminates all colour from those under its rays, giving visitors the rare experience of seeing themselves and others through the black-and-white lens.

Could Eliasson's 'one colour' reality be cast today as a prophetic challenge for contemporary Christianity? For some, attending the Sunday church service may be much like stepping under Eliasson's glow – life's dramatic colourful complexity gets drained away through a simple, reductionist paradigm of faith that somehow undermines earthly reality – perhaps urging audiences to instead only consider the life to come. Wonder, reverence and a dramatic sense of the Holy might be sapped by the preacher who only speaks of urgency and action. A strict moralism or commitment to a 'culture-war' mentality may force visitors to choose their path in a polarised world, with no mercy or grace for the ways in which reality evades black and white divisions. 

But history shows that Christianity has indeed been capable of a thoroughly colourful conception of reality – whitewashing Protestant iconoclasts notwithstanding. Both in a literally vibrant legacy of rich and soaring artistic output, and through the complex, profound and embodied liturgies of believers-gone-by, Christians have been those who 'enchanted' the world, challenging those lost with a downward gaze to look up and around them to see a world made and graced by God. Faith could point to a transcendence available in the midst of reality, not just after we die. In its life-embracing 'colour' it could live in every season – knowing that there is a time to mourn, a time to dance, and space for everything in-between.

Then again, others might say that modern faith suffers from an excess of colour, not its lack. Ours is absolutely an image-saturated age, in which vain self-perception has become the dominant mode not just for selfie-obsessed millennials but for organisations (and churches) driven by how they are seen. Many evangelical worship services host fashionista pastors before a frenzy of flashing lights and a flood of percussive noise, perhaps with a smoke-machine to boot. Some call it exuberant praise, others might call it trivial distraction. Some might see believers as too verbally 'colourful' – quick to speak when listening is required, eager to loudly condemn or divide when humble, quiet reflection might be the wiser path.

These critics may long for the visual silence of that Cistercian mindset – an ascetic stripping away of distractions so that hearts can truly focus on God. The monochrome lens need not drain the world of its life, but by sharpening our brain's stimulus, better focus our attention to it. Contrast can make for deep illumination and elevated wonder.

Another strand of Christian artistry has used colour to differentiate the moments of the Old and New Testaments. A painting might render Adam and Eve in monochrome, while these figures prefigure the incarnated Christ, seen radiant in colourful splendour. It offers a dramatic visualisation of Christ as the 'light of the world', both the fulfilment of promises past and the presence of vivid hope for the future.

Are the eyes of faith colour-blind? Do they simplify, or do they expand? Are they a stark dimming of a distracted world, or a flaming candle in darkened cell?

Monochrome is a fascinating, profound tour of human artistry that prompts said questions, offering (perhaps ironically) no black-and-white answers. As it elegantly shows, both Christians and non-Christians have found that the light of 'one colour' offers an important, challenging perspective on reality.

But this must be witnessed, not just talked about. Scripture declares that 'faith comes by hearing' (Rom 10:17), but in this case – some things must be seen to be believed.

Monochrome: Painting in Black and White is displaying at The National Gallery till February 18, 2018.

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