The Sacred Art Pilgrim

As you all know, I choose the artwork that goes along with my blog posts very carefully and deliberately.  In fact, sometimes it takes me longer to find the art than to write the post!  It is my hope that the art I select resonates with the words you read and that your mind is filled with beauty, understanding and ideas.  Above all, I want to communicate to you in both word and image that there is something mysterious, powerful and transformative happening in our lives all the time.  I want to believe this myself, and art (like words) helps me believe it and, hopefully, communicate it. 

Last week I discovered a treasure trove of sacred art, and I thought many of you would like to explore this treasure for yourselves.  John Kohan, an international journalist by trade (over 20 years with TIME magazine) and a sacred artist by nature, has set out to gather and display – on his website – beautiful, modern, sacred art.  His collection includes religious art from all over the world in a variety of media and styles. 

You can visit John’s website here:  The Sacred Art Pilgrim.  If you click on “sacred art meditations” (at the top right of his homepage), you can select moments from the life of Christ, themes of faith, or other bible stories, and can view relevant art along with Bible readings, meditations and explanations.  Or you can click on “sacred artists” and view a variety of gorgeous art collected there, along with interesting information about the artists.

John’s own first piece of sacred art was a pencil drawing of the sower and the seed that he drew at six years old (which I would like to see, but it does not yet appear on the site!).  His lifelong journey through sacred art is ours to behold.  

Rise and Walk

John Mosiman

And the Sea Stopped Raging

Barry Moser

Psalm XXIII

Sandra Bowden

Station VII

Pat Allman-Smith

The New Jerusalem

John Kohan

St. Francis

David da Costa

Entombment of Christ

The Kelogregovi Sisters

Annunciation III

Frank Humphrey Allen

Homily Gem #2

I heard this on Sunday and thought it was a beautiful idea:

“When praying for someone who is sick, you can use the words of Lazarus’ sisters, who said to Jesus: ‘Lord, the one you love is ill.’”

— Fr. Declan Creighton

Fr. Declan was referring to the story of the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-44). 

How did Jesus respond to Mary and Martha, when they sent word that their brother was ill?  He said, “This illness is not to end in death.”  Of course, several verses later, we find out that Lazarus has indeed died.  And yet with Mary and Martha, we believe the words of Jesus, “Your brother will rise.”

Do you have a loved one or a friend who is facing a serious illness?  This story from John’s Gospel is fertile ground for prayer and reflection:  the delay of Jesus in coming to Lazarus’ side, the faith of the sisters, the tears of Jesus, the power of his voice that raised Lazarus from the tomb, the unbinding of death’s trappings, the foreshadowing of Jesus’ own death and triumph.

Lord, the one you love is ill.  I trust you.  You know what is best.  In your time, raise him, untie him and let him go free.

"This is not to end in death."  The death and raising of Lazarus foreshadows the death and resurrection of Jesus.  Botticelli, Pieta (detail).

Still

The changing of the seasons means it’s time for one of Scott Eagan’s poems.  For those of you who are new to the blog, Scott is a member of the Madonna House Community in Combermere, Ontario.  He is what you might call a contemplative farmer.  Scott shares his poems with me, and I’m so pleased to share them with you.  His gentle imagery and heartfelt prose makes me feel like I am in Combermere too, living the simple spirituality of Madonna House and basking in the bounty of God’s creation.

Enjoy this season's window made with words, a glimpse into Scott’s beautiful, prayerful world.

“STILL

In the small hours of the morning
on the pillow of night’s awakening
all is still, all suspended.

The singing lake loons quieted
forest’s leaves forgetting to shed dewy tears
all the world so beautifully still.

As I poke my head outside my little tent
a gracious gift covers me
a transient thin treasure.

Just to breathe it in and let it go, breathe it in again…
- creations prayer -
can it be absorbed?

And the day begins.”

— Scott Eagan

Van Gogh, The Sower with Setting Sun, 1888.

Sunday's Gospel: The Rich Man and Lazarus

The following is re-published with permission from my column in Catechist magazine:  "Lessons for the Sunday Gospels."  For subscription information, visit Catechist.com.

September 25, 2016

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Gospel Reading:  Luke 16:19-31

Our last Gospel reading for the month continues the trend of unique parables from Luke. We also have a continuation of the themes of repentance and the dan­gers of wealth.

A first thing to notice is that Jesus is once again speaking to the Pharisees. We may be tempted to vilify the Pharisees and see them as the archenemies of Jesus who are nothing like us. But the great error of the Pharisees is the error of us all—an inability to think outside the box of our own minds and an unwillingness to hold ourselves to the same standards to which we hold everyone else. The parables of Jesus urge his audience—including and especially the Pharisees—to reassess themselves in light of his challenging message. When we read and study the Gospels, we must understand that we are not only the disciples of Jesus; we are also the Pharisees.

It is hard to imagine a man who would daily walk past a starving man covered in sores on his door­step. Once again the master story­teller has provided us with a strong and unforgettable image to convey his equally strong and unforget­table message. The rich man was likely not guilty of evil and hatred toward Lazarus. Instead, he was guilty of the insidious condition of desensitization. Lazarus was like a fixture outside the doors of his home; the rich man had stopped seeing him, even though he was there. He went on about his com­fortable life with no regard for the suffering on his own doorstep.

This is a message we contempo­rary Christians can relate to. There is so much suffering in the world that we feel helpless to improve. But if we give up, if we give in to our own comforts and stop seeing the suffering, we fall short. Indeed, Jesus calls us to repent—change our minds, change our ways, do an “about face.” Once again, Jesus calls us to look at life with new clarity, to see the suffering even on our own doorsteps, to stop and take care of the Lazarus that we encounter.

The consequences of desensi­tization and inaction are extreme, not only in terms of judgment and eternity, but in terms of our failure to develop into the compassionate human beings God created us and Jesus calls us to be. The words of Pope Francis come to mind:

"Sometimes we are tempted to be that kind of Christian who keeps the Lord’s wounds at arm’s length. Yet Jesus wants us to touch human misery, to touch the suffering flesh of others. He hopes that we will stop looking for those personal or com­munal niches which shelter us from the maelstrom of human misfortune and instead enter into the reality of other people’s lives and know the power of tenderness. Whenever we do so, our lives become wonderfully complicated and we experience intensely what it is to be a people, to be part of a people" (Evangelii Gaud­ium, 270). 

ASK YOURSELF: What human suffering in my life has become so familiar that I tend to ignore it? How can I deliberately take time to stop, touch, and serve the Lazarus on my own doorstep?

ASK YOUR STUDENTS: Why do you think Jesus made a point to tell us that the man who ignored Lazarus was rich? Is it bad to have money and material things? What is “dan­gerous” about having these things?

PRAY: Jesus, your teachings call me to a new way of seeing the familiar world around me. Please give me clarity and energy to see and serve those who suffer.

LIVE THE GOSPEL: Pick someone you have accidentally or intention­ally ignored recently. Reconnect with them this week. 

A series of drawings of the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus by Eugene Burnand (1850-1921).  

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)

Eugene Burnand (1850-1921)

Friends with God? Dream On.

The overwhelming response to my question about whether or not we can be friends with God was yes – emphatically yes!  Some of you were clear that you know God can be your friend because he already is!  Others added helpful distinctions:  God is a different kind of friend than our buddies or even our human soulmates. 

I agree with you.  And you all did such a nice job writing about it that I might just need to turn this blog over to the people.  You should share with me more often!

Now I promised you my own thoughts.  If the question were simply asked on a philosophical level, I might wonder.  I might surmise it was wishful thinking on the part of human beings to aspire to be “friends” with God.  But as usual, Scripture sets me straight, and that’s just the way I like it.  Vatican II refers to Scripture as “the words of God expressed in human language” (Dei Verbum 13).  I can’t think of a better way to learn about friendship with God.

The first Scripture verse that always comes to mind when I think about being God’s friend is Exodus 33:11:  “Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend.”  The transcendent God of the Israelites was talking with Moses?  No matter how awesome Moses was (and he was), he was still a human being, a creature, an imperfect person.  But there was an intimacy between God and Moses that went down in Israelite lore as genuine friendship.

Abraham was another ancient who was called God’s friend.  He is described as such three times in the Bible:  2 Chron. 20:7, Isa. 41:8, and James 2:23.  How would you like it if this is how people described you?  What if, instead of “short lady with curly brown hair and a bunch of kids,” people said of me, “You know, Amy, the friend of God?”  Gulp!  God give me the faith of Abraham!

Jesus, of course, called his disciples his friends.  And not only his disciples.  Remember this one:  “The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’” (Matt. 11:19)?  This was an accusation levelled at Jesus – friend of sinners!  Never has a truer accusation been made!

Of course, we would be entirely remiss on the topic if we did not recall the remarkable words of Jesus said in farewell to his eleven faithful disciples (Judas had left the table):  “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you” (Jn. 15:12-16).  No commentary needed.  These are words to pray by.

And finally, I share with you a passage that says it all.  Yes, Judas had left the table, only to be reunited with Jesus in the garden, where he would kiss Jesus and betray him unto death, even death on a cross.  How did Jesus address Judas as he approached in the garden?  He called him “friend” (Mt. 26:50).

Catherine Doherty wrote that “all men who have religion of some sort are dreamers, and dreamers of a very special kind.  They dream of unity between God and men.”

Friendship is about intimacy.  It is an intentional intimacy.  One of you aptly quoted the wisdom of St. Catherine of Siena:  “God is closer to us than water is to a fish.”  This is the stuff of dreams, indeed, but we know this dream is true.  So dream on, friends of God, dream on!  

Moses and the Lord had an unusual friendship, as depicted in this gorgeous painting by Jack Baumgartner of Moses in the cleft of rock as the glory of the Lord passed by (Ex. 33).  Moses in the Rock.  Copyright 2016 Jack Baumgartner.  Published with permission.  Click on painting to view more of Jack's work.