Art as a door into prayer

I have a certain place in my living room where I go to keep my morning watch and then return to from time to time throughout the day. My chair faces a window with a view of trees and sky. I also keep certain works of art nearby, to help me focus on life and give me courage.

On the stand by the window sit a copy of an icon of Pantokrator Jesus and a picture a friend drew/prayed for me in the Zentangle art style. On the wall above the stand is an original painting of a forest stream.

On another wall I see an original painting of three Aymara women, a crafted wooden picture of a Bolivian village, and a reproduction of Rembrandt’s “Return of the Prodigal Son.”

 Pantokrator Jesus

The original of this icon is a gigantic wall mosaic in the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, once a Christian cathedral, later a mosque, and currently a museum that is trying to restore and blend the art of both religions. Several years ago I stood before this mosaic and felt moved. In the original Christ is accompanied on either side by his mother Mary and John the Baptist. His two fingers represent the double nature of Christ, both man and God, a response to one of the controversies of the 5^th century. I love the tender expression on the face of Jesus. I sense his love and care for me.

Zentangle drawing by Miriam Bock

Miriam prayed for me while I was doing research in Bolivia during January and February. She used this art form to focus her prayers. It’s full of symbolism. The center of the piece, the goose (which emerged and surprised Miriam) is a Celtic symbol of the Holy Spirit. The more ordered squares in the bottom represent the discipline and order of research, and the egg is the hidden treasure I hope to discover. The drawing also contains a playful spirit, the sprouts of poems, and the eyes of God continually watching out for me. There’s more, as I keep discovering. It’s a visual blessing and reminder of the life God offers me.

Forrest stream by Dave Vanderveer

My brother-in-law is a gifted artist. He’s also a generous person. I admired this painting, so he gave it to me. I love the way the light skips off the water. I can almost hear the stream singing over the rocks and the breeze in the trees. It speaks light and life and Spirit.

Three Aymara Women by Oscar Tintaya

Oscar Tintaya is a Bolivian artist who is becoming well known in his own country. He is also a Quaker, and he is my friend. This painting reminds me of the high aesthetic values of the Aymara people, as well as the mystery of this culture. These three women, seated in the market place, aren’t about to let you into their world. And yet God has opened the doors. I continue to marvel at the beauty and mystery.

Wooden picture of an Aymara village

This picture, by an unnamed Bolivian artisan, is formed of tiny slivers of wood artistically arranged to show a village in the foothills of Mount Illimani. Again, the beauty and mystery of the Bolivian landscape and the Aymara culture bring up a spirit of wonder and gratitude.

Rembrandt’s “The Return of the Prodigal Son”

I bought this reproduction of Rembrandt’s painting in The Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia, after having stood for an hour in front of the original. Henri Nouwen’s book of the same title was the key that unlocked this work. The picture draws me into the unending story of the father’s love, the possibility of redemption.

Even though a Quaker (with our reputation for stressing reality above symbolism), I’m also a poet with a love for art and a responsive nature. Art helps me pray, and I need all the help I can get.

Of course, the Original is far more beautiful than all these works. Sometimes I just close my eyes and enjoy the presence.

Grace sightings #4, 2013

Home again—that in itself is grace. After 7 weeks that included an extended stay with family in Kigali, a brief tourist spin about London, and an incredible week in Istanbul and ancient Ephesus, home is a very good place to be. Grace abounds. Ever the God-spy, I sighted grace everywhere we wandered, and seated now in my favorite chair, with a cup of coffee, I savor the memories.

--Hospitality: We knew that 6 weeks was pushing the limit even for family (maybe especially for family), but various factors dictated our schedule. In retrospect, we do not regret it. We were able to enter the routines of everyday life in Kigali and take our part. In Istanbul, my former college roommate, Barbara Baker, took time off from her job as a journalist to host us and show us the sights of that amazing place. Hospitality, a grace-gift, welcomes people in, makes them feel like their visit is also a gift.

--Intercultural relationships: I loved being with our son David in Kigali, listening to him converse so freely in Ikinyarwanda, watching him relate to local Friends believers, appreciating how much he and Debby have entered this context and made it home. That was also one of my favorite parts of our time in Turkey—enjoying Barb’s linguistic and cultural expertise, and especially her relationships with her Muslim neighbors. I’m seeing again how that when God calls a person to service in another culture, God gives the gifts that enable that person to learn and relate—and love the experience. Grace, all grace.

--The antiquity and continuity of the church: Much of our time in Turkey had to do with antiquity. Ruins, history and a sense of the passing of time. We wandered the domed halls and dark stone passageways of the Hagia Sophia. Built during the time of Constantine, serving as a Christian cathedral for over 900 years, as a mosque for almost 500 years, now a museum, images of the different religious traditions seemed to compete for ascendency. We walked the ruins of Ephesus, one of the four largest cities in the Roman Empire during the time when Paul planted a congregation there. Long since destroyed by earthquake and wars, tumbled stones and columns supporting no roof can only hint at forgotten splendors. The forms of the church pass away, yet its substance remains and grows and reaches into every corner of the earth with more grace than we can imagine. Antiquity and continuity.

--Spring flowers tucked into the ruins at St. John’s Church near Ephesus.

--The Turkish carpet seller (one of Barb’s friends) who served us Turkish coffee and talked us into buying a small rug for a large price that we somehow didn’t mind paying.

--Home again in the Oregon spring.

Thanks be to God.

          Ottoman castle on the Bosporus, ferry ride to the Black Sea

 

Cheribim mosaic in the Hagia Sophia

            Mosaic icon of Jesus in the Hagia Sophia, my favorite

    St. John's Cathedral near Ephesus

    In the Istanbul bazaar

Buying a rug from Barb's friend Kalender