Whatsoever |
Whatsoever |
This year has also brought so many challenges and so much uncertainty.and yet has brought blessings and new understanding. The postcards on my windowsill in the kitchen seem to sum it all up well • The wonderful painting by Rembrandt helps me to understand more about the waiting and yearning of this year. I have written more about this in a previous blog
• The bright drawing started from the West Pier in Brighton. There have been photos of the family here over the years and it is a good place for remembering and being thankful. The image I have made looks like a stained glass window that could be installed to shine in a church, perhaps with a plaque beneath commemorating a life well-lived. • I identify with the woman Laura Knight's painting - looking out to sea at far horizons, letting the wind blow and planning to launch out to new possibilities. She may not stay standing on the rock for ever! • In Ethiopia, tef is the staple grains and these tef stacks were by the road outside Addis Ababa. I made a trip back to this wonderful country earlier in the year. The Bible verses I chose to go with this image are Psalm 85:10-13 which talk about love, faithfulness and righteousness and preparing the way ahead. • I made this final image years ago - of a view of scaffolding on a new building by the Thames in London. Now it seems to sum up the strange fragility of London in the past months: waiting for the 'building' to start again but meanwhile rather unexpected and uncertain. At either end of these postcards on my windowsill are two others.
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Life at the moment can seem very disjointed. Our interactions with people are often distant, sitting in our ‘boxes’ on a Zoom call. Our plans have had to be discarded or postponed and so much of the normal pattern or our lives has fragmented. I have been glad and surprised to come across three images that can help us grapple with these feelings of fragmentation and help to make meaning. Fragments of the patchwork. This rather sorry thing started life as a patchwork made from offcuts from dresses I had made. I wanted to create a cot blanket and it gave me something to do as I waited for my baby to be born. She arrived early so the cot blanket was not made. Years later I found what I had done and sewed it onto a cushion cover for that same daughter, now fully grown. The cushion was well used but gradually the stitching started to come apart and it was abandoned. Now I have it back with me - this poignant reminder of fragments and failings, falling apart and incompleteness. What gives meaning, for me, are the memories that this collection of fabric brings: recollections of past certainties, deep love and daily provision, a reminder of the ‘daily bread’ that we pray for in the Lord’s Prayer and God promises to provide (Matthew 6:11) Fragments of a palette I made this collage from scrapings from my painting palette. I have never been very good at keeping it clean and over the months it had built up to be a bumpy congealed surface that was getting in the way of further painting. I got a knife and scratched off the pieces of old paint and then realised that each was rather interesting and attractive. I stuck them down and when I had finished was surprised to see that I had inadvertently arranged them in a way that looked like a tukul - a round Ethiopian home. How wonderful that all these different separated pieces could become something beautiful and meaningful. How wonderful that individual believers (even though we are separated) are still being built into God’s dwelling, still functioning as his church (Ephesians 2:22) Fragments made beautiful Here is something wonderful. If you are looking at the picture on a screen it is probably larger than the real thing which is tiny, about the size of your hand (11.8x14.7 cm ). It was made with exquisite care and attention over 350 years ago and now hides in a corner of the National Gallery. In London Why this little painting is so inspiring? It inspires me because its craft, detailed accuracy and symbolism affirm that fragments can be beautiful. It also powerfully speaks to me of Jesus. Firstly its size. Just as this is so small, so was Jesus’s life, in human terms. It was not grand or loud, it was mostly small and hidden in an obscure part of the Roman Empire two millennia ago. Then, there is the symbolism. In the painting there are different ‘pointers’ to truth. The hawthorn represents death; the forget-me-not flower, remembrance and the transience of life; the butterfly represents the human soul and the idea of metamorphosis from human to divine. A white butterfly was a symbol of Christ. Symbols, parables and images were often things that Jesus used. He took real things in his hands, pointed out reality in the places he walked, and from these showed who God is and how he wants us to live. (...’consider the lilies of the field’ Luke 12:27-28) The maker of this painting took raw materials of oil paint and wood and by paying great attention he made something full of beauty and life. He had to observe carefully all the details of each part. This, amazingly, is what God does. Jesus’s days on this earth were filled with time paying careful attention to the needs of that moment. He could see through the crowds to the person who needed to hear his voice (Zachaeus and the woman who touched his cloak Luke 19: 5; Luke 8:43-45) and we know that the God knows the very smallest detail of our lives (even the hairs on our head : Matthew 10:30) and watches over us with deep love and attention. I am so glad to have discovered this little painting because it shows how a collection of fragments can ‘work ‘and can have meaning. There is a way of making sense of all the little things, bringing them together to make something new. In all disjointed fragmentary parts of life there is meaning and beauty to be found. 2020 has been full of waiting. The story of this year has been one of unfulfilled dreams, frustrating restrictions and entirely new experiences of waiting for ‘the end’. We are now looking towards the next year, waiting for some sort of normality to return, waiting for effective vaccines and waiting for some solution to how we are going to pay for it all. We have all learned about waiting and we all, perhaps, know a bit more about being saved. As we hear comforting, familiar Bible passages again this Christmas - stable and shepherd, star and wise men - let’s not forget two particular old people who were waiting for salvation. Their names were Anna and Simeon and we read about them in the Bible in the second chapter of Luke’s gospel, right after the account of Jesus’s birth. They were both waiting for the Messiah, the Saviour, to come to the world and had been assured by God that they would see this before they died. The years passed, their bones ached and their lives got more narrow, dusty and dim. They thought about how it may be but really didn’t have a clue. Their days in the Temple sometimes became very long and tiresome yet they determinedly trusted that what God said would happen would happen, in his own good time and in his way. Then one day a particular young mother and her husband and their newborn baby arrived at the Temple to do the customary act of dedicating their first born to God. For Simeon this was both expected and unexpected Many artists have tried to imagine this scene, but the painting that speaks most to me is by Rembrandt. He painted this at the end of his long life (it was found in his studio after he died) and the rough, hesitant, searching way he paints the image seems appropriate. He paints how to wait to be saved and how to receive salvation.
What strikes me most is the posture of waiting. I remember as a child my parents saying at Christmas - ‘close your eyes, hold out your arms' and into those arms they would place a present, a precious thing that I had so hoped for. Here, in this painting, the old man stretches out his tired arms to receive the gift. Look at the way his hands have been shown - old and gnarled yet open and receiving - a gesture of deep, confident, trusting prayer. Into those outstretched arms are placed the baby: a little head, tiny hand and dressed carefully and lovingly. Simeon receives this scrap of life, this helpless baby. This, this is what he has been waiting for. In God’s extraordinary plan, salvation for Simeon, and for us all, comes to this earth as a baby born in obscurity and destined to live a short life and suffer a terrible death. Yet, Simeon understands. He expresses this knowledge in a beautiful prayer (that prayer which has often been set to music, called the ‘Nunc Dimittis’). He knows that here in his outstretched arms is salvation and life and truth and meaning. Is it no wonder that he is shown with eyes closed? The light that this baby brings is so bright and so piercing that all he can do is worship. This Son is the image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15-20) In these 21st century days, as we keep on waiting, perhaps we can learn from Simeon about how to wait, how to be ready to receive, and how to recognise the unlikely, unexpected gifts that God gives and continues to give. Close your eyes, hold out your arms, here is ALL for you. Extracts from a journal - recording a journey in the Sinai desert with school girls, teachers and Bedouin guides. A journey for our times. The final evening, finding meaning We walked to a canyon to spend the night – hidden in the cleft of a rock, secluded like natural walls, although in rainfall this becomes a river a metre deep. A small group of us take a beautiful walk up the little valley onto the sandstone plateau to watch the sunset. The colours or the rocks change by the minute- red, pink, yellow then brown orange. The sky changes to blue, yellow, red, purple. It is still with just a gentle wind. We recognised the spiritual power of the desert and recalled stories of others, in other deserts, led in faith, dependency, lack of clutter and distraction that the desert brings. Alleluia. Now the sun has gone more – blue, pale pale blue, then a thin strip of orange – then the black of the mountains. I feel so inadequate to think or speak about God, yet he spoke here. The only reaction has to be absence of words. Finding solitude is hard - there is necessity for close communal life. However silence is the most necessary appropriate reaction to awesome beauty. Before the hills and plains my mind and words fail – my soul seems still yet I know that things sink deep. It would be good now to pray with someone and to cry - to let all the clutter wash away. That will come, I know – and this has been a most beneficent (and penitent I wanted to write) time. Pondering The warmth of the rock. The strength of the simplicity. The power of the rock. The silence and signs of water in a dry land – life. Powerful yet gentle, preserving. Uncluttered. When the sun goes down the heat of the day recedes. The stars come out and one beauty is replaced by another. Poise and assurance, gentleness and sympathy. Not wanting to be captive but to live in the knowledge of the truth. Let your light shine before men…changing light but always there Reaching the conclusions that other people reached before and understanding why they reached them Waiting to explore the shadows Sinai is a place of reliance on God – and it seems that to rely on Him means silence, stillness, bare rocks.. Sleeping in the desert in a canyon, protected, waking in the night to see stars overhead. Waking at dawn – colour gradually returning to the rocks. Walking out towards the plain and seeing all the rocks gradually flood with colour. Leaving the desert And so back into the noisy busy modern world. Arriving into Gatwick through layers of cloud – extremely bumpy low pressure, wind and rain but, praise be, safe landings. Coach waiting, parents reconnected, all home safe into parent’s arms. And I creep into a sleeping house and wake each member of the family and am greeted by arms flung round my neck…lovely to have you home they say. Home, family, community – these are the core. I need the grace to see around the muddle and confusion and clutter to the simplicity – to ‘Only God’. Six imprints with rock in the centre. Sitting in the shadow of a rock as the sun went down, on the last evening, I let my hands feel the fine soft sand. There was a rounded stone nearby so I made small indentations in the sand, one for each of the family, and prayed for each of them, committing them to God. I knew again, as I would learn so clearly in the coming months, that ultimately there is 'Only God'. Only He can make sense of life and loss and hope. Context of the Bible
Psalm 63:1-8. This psalm became my theme for the journey You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water. I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. [ I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me. Deuteronomy 32:10-14 At the end of his life Moses recited this song. This was our experience as we journeyed in the desert all those years ago. In a desert land he found him, in a barren and howling waste. He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye, like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them aloft. The Lord alone led him; no foreign god was with him. He made him ride on the heights of the land and fed him with the fruit of the fields. He nourished him with honey from the rock, and with oil from the flinty crag, with curds and milk from herd and flock and with fattened lambs and goats…. Extracts from a journal - recording a journey in the Sinai desert with school girls, teachers and Bedouin guides. A journey for our times. The Monastery of St Catherine’s sits at the foot of Mount Sinai. There has been a Christian community there for over one and a half thousand years and marks the place where traditionally God met Moses in the burning bush, and where Moses later descended the mountains with the ten Commandments from God. The first church was built here by Helen, the mother of Emperor Constantine. Later, in the 6th Century Justinian built the fortress walls to protect the community and pilgrim steps were carved up from the monastery to the top of the mountain. The tradition is that the bones of St Catherine (who was a early martyr for her faith) were found nearby and so this is how the place got its name. In an area where many people follow Islam the witness of this Christian community has continued, aided by the fellowship and support of the local Bedouin tribes. Visiting the monastery - my journal extracts Last night coming down from the mountain at dusk – all quiet, silent, still. The rocks pink. The monastery walls, because they are hewn from the same rocks and have weathered too, seem part of the landscape, a haven, a true ‘protectorate’ – safe and secure. This morning I am sitting watching the sun capture and lighten the enclosed world of buildings inside the monastery walls. This fortress has remained for so many years, collecting its secrets, guarding its treasures, providing refuge and worship in a harsh and difficult land. The twentieth century comes and swirls around it, just as other centuries have – but at the heart is truth and faith, a burning bush that spoke, the LORD – I am. The bones of a lady who believed unto death – because Jesus was more important than anyone and anything. This morning there are crowds of course, and yet as we enter the low dark door through the thick walls we enter another world. Centuries of prayer; the ‘burning bush’ and its fire extinguisher; he wooden struts higgledy piggledy out of the walls; the additions of more and more buildings snuggled inside those safe walls. The church is a glorious miracle and I feel the imperative to cross myself. The huge, many-branched lanterns, incense holders, ostrich eggs above, glinting gold of icons wherever you turn. The worn wooden choir stalls. The ancient carved doors preserved in the desert air. The black robed monks tolerantly guiding this mass of modern visitors hoping, I suppose, for some touch of God on them. Marble floors, stars on green sky on the ceiling. Worn rich carpet. Huge cross high above and then behind mysterious, tantalising, the mosaic of the apse. Our guide sees the one monk she knows, Father Justin, and he gathers us and takes us all down the side, behind the screen, and with real love explains a little of the mosaic. It is so clear, so obvious and transmits so much. The wonderful blues behind Christ, the waiting prophets, the flanking mosaics of Moses and bush and tablets and the apostles and prophets and King David surrounding. He explained how it had over the years become dirty but was cleaned to revel all its glory. He said how early in the morning and particularly in springtime light gradually catches the glass and it, moment by moment, comes to life. He took us into the back chapel of St James, the chart on the wall delineating saints’ days and therefore which icon should be displayed. He then allowed us to look into the little dark secluded ‘chapel of the burning bush’ – blue and white tiled, thick carpets, huge chair for the reader, small lowly humble altar. There have been sixteen centuries of prayer here. Mass is celebrated each Saturday – Moses’s holy day – and always you must take off your shoes, standing on holy ground. Outside, one of the girls was tearful, unexplained but I did what felt instinctive – hugs and tissues and encouraging her to cry and I prayed. She wanted to go back into the church, eventually, which we did and then spent time looking at the icons – Peter and Paul, heads together. Mary and virgin saints, stern Nicholas, 6th century encaustic of the kind, smiling Jesus. Monks ascending the ladders, resisting the downward temptations. Stories of the Bible lovingly depicted in paint. Coming down the steps by the church a black -robed monk with a Bedouin carrying parcels. Context of the Bible Before the crossing of the Red Sea God met Moses and talked to him about reliance. The place where this happened has traditionally believed to be at the foot of the mountain, today covered by Saint Catherine’s monastery, God met Moses. God knew that his people needed rescuing and he was going to provide everything they needed to be free. Exodus 3:1-5 Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight---why the bush does not burn up.” When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!” And Moses said, “Here I am.” “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” Moses went back to that mountain for an encounter with God. Exodus 19:1-8 On the first day of the third month after the Israelites left Egypt---on that very day---they came to the Desert of Sinai. After they set out from Rephidim, they entered the Desert of Sinai, and Israel camped there in the desert in front of the mountain. Then Moses went up to God, and the Lord called to him from the mountain and said, “This is what you are to say to the descendants of Jacob and what you are to tell the people of Israel: 'You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself. Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.' These are the words you are to speak to the Israelites.” So Moses went back and summoned the elders of the people and set before them all the words the Lord had commanded him to speak. The people all responded together, “We will do everything the Lord has said.” If you are interested in finding out more information about St Catherine's monastery see : https://www.sinaimonastery.com www.saintcatherinefoundation.org Extracts from a journal - recording a journey in the Sinai desert with school girls, teachers and Bedouin guides. A journey for our times. Arriving at the foot of the mountain We drove through a checkpoint and up the dirt track, past Bedouin villages to the foot of Mount Sinai. We climbed up the back road, a newer route: hard granite slopes, zigzagging up. It was hard and hot and challenging. On the opposite mountain top we can see a small chapel. In the distance there are old hermit caves with a bit of greenery visible. On – up towards a stall selling chocolate and coke and tea. The girls gabbled and the guide told us about the National part, run with EU money and a consortium with London zoo as part of it. They have installed things like a loo and litter bin at the top. We join the ancient pilgrim steps. I went on ahead and others following. The vast immense immeasurable power and strength of God seemed very real At one point there was no sign of any other human. Only God – and that is how it really is….only God. The summit Too quickly the moment goes and we came to the summit – small and crowded with Egyptian workmen, Jewish archaeologists, an Orthodox priest and us. The views, however, were magnificent. We had lunch away from staring eyes behind a café and I read the Exodus passage. The guide told how she has been on the mountain in a storm and how everything becomes electric – just like the description in the Bible. Descent Eventually we descended, down the mountain of God. Going down was hard – clicking knees and fractious girls. But then we came to this huge fortress monastery – to a community guest house and café and shops, hoards of Russian and Greek Orthodox grannies and an English overland trekking trip and us. It was a noisy night with parties leaving at 2am to climb the mountain to be at the top at sunrise. Theophany The great and difficult questions – should we climb the mountain. It is a holy place where God appeared so should not be taken lightly. On the way up the mountain, at the foot of the Pilgrim steps there is a ‘Shrive gate’ – a place to confess sins before ascending mountain. Priest says words from Psalm 24 – who shall ascend and then reply He that has God of his salvation. One of the schoolgirls said: “ Climbing Mount Sinai was the most amazing experience. I was completely dreading it but something motivated me to climb and it was the most wonderful experience standing on the top and looking down and realising I had climbed a mountain” Context of the Bible
Theme – journey and meeting God. On Mount Sinai – the giving of the law. This is the most significant encounter between man and God. God wanted to give instructions about how to live a good life. These were written on tablets of stone and carried down the mountain by Moses. They were kept in the Ark of the Covenant and carried around there is a constant reminder of the way to live. They form the basis of moral and civil law for Jewish Christian and Muslim societies. The people remained at a distance, while Moses approached the thick darkness where God appeared Exodus 19 v 20. The Lord descended to the top of Mount Sinai and called Moses to the top of the mountain. So Moses went up Exodus 20:1-21 - the Ten Commandments And God spoke all these words: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. [
When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance and said to Moses, “Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.” Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid. God has come to test you, so that the fear of God will be with you to keep you from sinning.” Additional images of Sinai : On the Visual Commentary of Scripture site. : thevcs.org/sinai-calling/sinai-still-thunders Extracts from a journal - recording a journey in the Sinai desert with school girls, teachers and Bedouin guides. A journey for our times. Provision of needs : so little and yet enough. Only what could be carried by the camels and provided by the Bedouin Silhouettes appear in the dipping sun. The sun is raking light now as we stop on the edge of the plain. People are rushing to get camp made quickly before the sun sets. Camels are hobbled, grazing but prevented from wandering off, enjoying not having the constant cry of ‘ari’ to move them on. Boys are searching for brush wood for a fire as the sun sets over Mount Sinai. The next day after a morning on the camels, we stopped for mid-morning tea, miraculously produced but the Bedouin: some brushwood, stone, a flame and then water quickly boiled and tea made. We sat in the shadow of a carved pink rock and looked towards a massive mountain in etched pink and yellow, rising sheer from the sand into the deep blue sky. Life in the desert There are more living things here than we first thought: it is not really a barren place. We were shown small melons growing low to the rock which are used for curing rheumatism and in childbirth. As we approach a camp place there were gargling calls of flocks of migrating storks, circling briefly to look at us and then off in formation on their journey from Europe to Africa across this boundary region. We saw a wheatear, a black and white chirping bird, and some ravens who seemed to know that leftover food was available. Once in the distance we could see trees and bushes of an oasis Lunchtime Eventually we came to a place for lunch in the shade of a huge rock. The Bedouin make a fire then make bread in a washing up bowl. A small round of dough is quickly kneaded, rolled with the salt canister, passed from hand to hand to make it larger and thinner, and then put on an upside-down curved pan over the fire and cooked. We ate this with salad – cucumbers and tomatoes, fish, houmous and tahini. Men quietly disappear to wash and then say their prayers. The children are loud, chattering. The camels are brought back, grunting. In the distance are blue hazy hills. One is Mount Sinai– a place of instruction and covenant from God. We carry fresh vegetables – small cucumbers, squashy tasty tomatoes, potatoes and onions- with us in wooden boxes, 2 tied to my camel. The camels drink no water on this trip. At the end they will go to the camel park and the sheikh will let them have their fill of around sixty litres each. They stop when they can to eat the plants – tough and thorny things but they can cope. They produce woolly hair during the winter to keep them warm and then in the spring it is pulled off and used to weave woollen rugs, saddle coverings and for tents. One of the camels is four months pregnant – the gestation time is 12 months. The bedu children do not know how old they are. They too are tough and wiry and want to play games and climb up rocks. Evening feast That evening, arriving at the head of a sheltered valley the sheikh is there to meet us in his jeep. He has come to say hello to the Bedouin. In no time at all they have made a camp – a fire, mats around camel saddles, cooking by a rock with the aid of a gas canister (reduces the use of fuel wood). We quickly have to get ourselves organised before the sun goes down. We each disappear behind a rock to wash and change into clothes that will do for bed. Then we gather around the little fire, the bedu squatting nearby around their blaze. Another miraculous meal appears – rice, sausage in tomato sauce and chips! The leaders have been peeling and slicing potatoes and deep frying them for us and served with salad. After dinner the girls disappear for their giggling gossip and we leaders talk a little and a little bedu boy. We share Arab and English words for biscuit, fire, salt. Then he shows us his writing skill – the 2 words he can spell in English which he writes out in the sand are ‘Toyota’ and Jeep! The fire began to go out. We break up some twigs but can’t manage to blow it into life. An elderly bedu comes over, puts his face right near the fire and blows and again, miraculously, huge flames appear. Provision in every way The next day there is a beautiful ride to a lunch place, shaded under a huge, honeycombed rock. The girls went and tested echoes in the cleft of the mountain then ran whooping down the sandy slope. We sat and drew pictures. The little children threw stones at cans – expertly. I walked away and sat on a ridge looking out over the wide open plain and hills offering small prayers, praising and thanking and knowing how great God is, how great and how small and yet how cared for each of us are. I felt truly relaxed, open and thankful: he wonderful sense of being cared for my others. Context of the Bible
How strange and unexpected that God should choose such a barren place to reveal himself. Perhaps it is always necessary for all else to be stripped away for us to cease to be distracted. Distraction is the curse of our age. The children of Israel in the desert grumbled about being there got fed up and didn’t believe that this would be any better. But they were provided for miraculously. Special provision was made. Exodus 16 v 2-5. In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the Lord's hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.” Then the Lord said to Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions. On the sixth day they are to prepare what they bring in, and that is to be twice as much as they gather on the other days.” God provided quail and ‘manna’ (the seeds of the tamarisk bush). We saw evidence of unexpected life in the desert, we experienced such care and provision for our needs, we were able to give thanks for abundant provision each day or our journey. |
WhatsoeverThe posts are 'postcards' on my journey through faith and art. The name 'Whatsoever' comes from Philippians 4:8 in the Bible : Categories
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