sustain:if:able kiwi

Faith in the midst of violence: the La Faruk Madonna

In a side room at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Glasgow, is placed the La Faruk Madonna. At first glance, it looks your standard religious fare, three paintings, an angel either side of a Madonna.

But the story behind the paintings is extraordinary, for they are painted on old flour bags in the middle of World War 2. The artist, Giuseppe Baldan, was by a prisoner of war. Hence the backdrop behind the angels and the Madonna is a prisoner of war camp, including the prison fence, the Sudanese desert, a washing line and the huts that held prisoners.

The story is that Italian prisoners of war, captured by the British in North Africa, sought permission in the camp to build a chapel. A chapel needs decoration and so the La Faruk Madonna was painted, an aid for prayer, a source of hope.

As the war ended, the paintings were saved from the camp and were given to the British commander for safe keeping. It was a mark of respect for the humane way he had treated the prisoners and honoured the art.

It is both comforting and disturbing. Comforting in the creativity of humans, even in bleak times. Disturbing in that here were British and Italians worshipping the same God, yet finding ways to kill each other. What did the British think as they saw the angels being painted and as they watched the prisoners turn up for worship week by week, as they heard the prayers to “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.”

creative resource: British Library Illuminated Manuscripts now online

The British Library has just put online their illuminated manuscripts, both images and information. Since the Library holds one the richest collections of medieval and renaissance manuscripts in the world, this is a rich resource.

Since I’m currently working on the Emmaus Road, a search produced 8 images. Here is one from a Psalter, England, Central (Oxford); 1st quarter of the 13th century, before 1220. (I love how the legs are disappearing up, a reference perhaps to Ascension. Also love the fish on the table, a creative addition to the normal bread/eucharistic references).

This is one of 56 images in the Psalter. Imagine a Bible with 56 coloured images, hand crafted. Such a contrast to the text only versions that currently dominate the market! That surely says something about creativity and value and provides food for current Bible reading practices. (For more of my reflections on this theme, see faith shaped by art not words)

By contrast, here is one from Bruges, Belgium, in the 1400s, where we were a few weeks ago.

Of even more interest/usefulness is their public domain copyright policy –

The Catalogue of Illuminated Manuscripts content is now available for download and reuse. Although still technically in copyright in the UK (and a number of other common law territories) the images are being made available under a Public Domain Mark* which indicates that there are no copyright restrictions on reproduction, adaptation, republication or sharing of the content available from the site.

Colouring a contemporary stations of the cross

Amid the ancient history of Saint Salvador Cathedral, Brugge, is a contemporary stations of the cross. Beautifully arranged in a side chapel, it is one, of very few signs, that this faith might be living.

A project by Dutch artist, Jac Bisschops, between 2008 and 2010, he aimed to communicate the essential message of each Station of the Cross. His aim is contemplation, a seeking for simplicity, harmony and clarity. The hubris of the cathedral was thus a thoroughly fitting backdrop.

A feature is the limited palette, five colours

• blue for infinity
• brown for transitory earth
• black for darkness
• white for purity
• gold for resurrection

Each base colour is used three times. Layering is used to provide a rich intensity of colour.

Another feature is the interplay of horizontal and vertical lines. In this sense, it has echoes of New Zealand artist, Colin McCahon and his stations of the cross (although McCahonh uses more of a two colour palette).

Together, simple palette, straight lines, rich layers, it actually works. I find myself slowing, pausing. In the concentrating, I find an inviting clarity, a simplicity that reminds me of life’s essence, the reality of Easter. (For those interested, a YouTube video, which includes every piece is here.)

these walls will talk

One of the advantages of living in a house renovation is some space to play. Over the last few months, in order to try to gain even a tiny bit of work/life balance, I’ve been knocking off work early every Monday, to spend time with one of the family.

Together we’ve been working on a few projects. This is one of them –

– chalk paint as a background, words painted using my icon paints, etched via cut lettering from a local craft shop.

The plan is to use chalk, to write on the walls the things we’re glad of, and what we’re hoping for. It’s part of what we need to do as a family, to keep a focus on gratitude and hope.

Then, when the renovation project eventually gets to this room, we’ll simply paint over the top of “gratitude” and “hope”, leaving our family prayers permanently part of the house walls. It will probably need one more coat than normal. But hey – at least these walls will talk.

creating the church of tomorrow

Twice in the last few weeks, a prayer by Oscar Romero has come my way. Romero was a Catholic Archbishop in El Salvador, assassinated on 1980, while celebrating Mass in a small chapel in a cancer hospital where he lived.

God of hope,
Help us to step back and take the long view.
Remind us that what we do in our lifetime
is only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is your work..
Nothing we do is complete, which is only a way of saying that your realm always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No one program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals includes everything.
Help us remember what we really are about:
we plant seeds that will one day grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need future development.
We provide yeast that produces
far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything.
Knowing this frees us, for it enables us to do something.
It may seem incomplete, but it is really a beginning,
a step along the way.
Our efforts provide an opportunity
for your grace to enter and do the rest.
You are the master builder, and we work with you.
We may never see the end results that are known to you.
Even so, we are prophets of a future
that holds your promise.
Amen.

Given the way the prayer has found me, it seemed appropriate that it become the devotional for our team retreat on Thursday. I provided two ways to respond. One was to pray by planting a seed of petition. The other was to pray by watering as thanks. Outside (because dirt and water don’t go with carpet), I had placed a seed tray and a pot of colour from home.

Inside, we said the prayer together, a different person taking a phrase each. We then sat with the prayer in silence for 5 minutes. I then invited folk to move outside. And to either plant a seed “we plant seeds that will one day grow” or to water the pot “We water seeds already planted.” We then concluded by again saying the prayer together, again a different person taking a phrase each.

The focus of the retreat day was strategic planning and it was just lovely to begin the day watering and planting, reminding each other that- “We cannot do everything. Knowing this frees us, for it enables us to do something.” (To end the day, we shared communion and had a party. But that’s another post).

fascinating art image ecological Christ, Colossians 1

I saw this on Facebook and have no idea of the original source, nor the artist’s intent. But to me it seemed a fascinating expression – in the colours of the rainbow, the dolphins, so often a sign of ecological harmony, rising – of Colossians 1:18-20 – the ecological Christ.

all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross

In scarcity there is both beauty and intrigue

“We’ve always used the limitations of the band as a creative tool almost.”

– Edge

“In scarcity there is both beauty and intrigue.”

– Winemaker, Chapel Hill Wines

So, might the decline of the church in the West be a good thing? Might it result in beauty, intrigue, creativity – but only if seen as a gift to be embraced, rather than a crisis to be fought.

(For two practical examples of how this might be important in leadership, see here).

artist shoots holes in her Bible

When I was doing a Master of Fine Art degree, I was required to present a paper about semiotics to a contemporary theory class …. I had procured a large, black Bible of my mother’s which she had ‘retired’ because it was so heavily annotated she wasn’t able to read it any more and I’d nailed it to a wooden target, of the type hunters shoot at for practice. I set these against a tree in my aunt’s orchard and shot at them three times with my father’s rifle, blasting the pages of the Bible apart … My (non-Christian) classmates were shocked when I showed them the results, as they knew I was a Christian … I learnt a great deal from it and it generated one of the most constructive dialogues in that class. I wanted to simply say that it is not the book that is sacred per se but the living word that is in me, that changes how I live and how I treat my neighbour. (Betty Spackman, A Profound Weakness: Christians & Kitsch, 35)

This is a fine example of the power of art to engage theology. The theme is so intellectual – semiotics and I would rush to footnote and read. Yet Betty places this within her lived experience, of nurture and growth. And in so doing, raises many important questions regarding a theology of revelation in regard to Scripture. Where is sacred found? In words of text or witness of life?

seeking holy ground article

I was asked a few weeks ago to contribute an article to Journey, the Uniting Church of Queensland monthly newspaper. It’s become the front page headline for the October edition – titled Seeking Holy Ground. For those interested, it is here, or below … (more…)

the sense in mission: a childhood resource

Here Comes Frankie! is a children’s book by Tim Hopgood. It tells the story of Frankie, who discovers that when he plays the trumpet, he can not only hear, but see and smell. “The air was filled with colourful music and bursts of weird and wonderful smells.”

Which means that everything begins to change. Frankie’s parents begin to dance and all down the street people begin to tap and clap.

It’s a book full of colour (paint chips front and back), styled in a way that insists you touch each page. It’s based on synthaesthesia, the condition in which some people (Miles Davis and Jean Sibelius) actually do see and smell music.

A children’s book, yet a wonderful reminder of the priority of sense in mission, the way that sound, sight and smell change our world, invite people into God’s mission in our communities (join God’s Conga line, to use the image of mission from Stephen Bevans).

a faith shaped by art not words

What is the place of art in the church? Here’s a fascinating take by Peter Steele, Professor Emeritus at the University of Melbourne.

“there is no particular reason to suppose that the reading-off of God’s word to humanity had to take the form which, in the western world, it largely did – namely, via philosophically-based theology. The whole affair might have gone differently, so that, for instance, the figures in highest institutional esteem in the Christian community would be artists.” (Peter Steele, in Braiding the Rivers. Essays in Poetry (John Leonard Press, 2012), 33)

(We walked past his abode, Newman Hall, in Melbourne over the weekend). It is a fascinating suggestion – what would have happened to Christianity, if the Christian tradition had been given to artists, not word-smiths?

I think the same thing is being said in the following visual image, this stunning icon that Gary Rutter posted on twitter recently –

St Luke, the icon painter. Sketch for an icon [/caption]

In other words, in the trajectory of Peter Steele, imagine if the Gospels had come to us not as words, stories of Jesus and Mary, but as pictures, of Mary and Jesus.

Posted by steve at 07:58 PM

the potential of limits for creativity

“We’ve always used the limitations of the band as a creative tool almost.”

— Edge

It’s a fascinating quote by U2’s The Edge, in which limits and limitations are realised as essential in the creative process.

Twice recently I’ve seem limitations unleash creativity. Here’s one moment.

On Thursday I led the team through a creative brainstorming process. I was greeted with the news as I became Principal that heading into 2013 we as a College needed to generate another $100,000. We discussed this as a team and decided this was a “we” challenge, rather than an “I” or a “they” challenge.

In other words, rather than give it to a single person or a representative group, this was a challenge we wanted to face together.

We agreed to a process. We would go away for a week to prayer and ponder. We would each return to share one idea, along with a monetary figure. It was one of the best meetings I’ve been part of in a long time, with a range of outstandingly creative ideas placed on the table. We are now work shopping each of the ideas. But if even half of them came to reality, we would be a very, very different College.

The limits – of funds – had opened up our collective creativity.

Often we imagine that creativity emerges when we have unlimited time and unlimited resources. Perhaps the converse is true – that creativity materialises when we have limits, and when these limits are faced in community.

Finding words for worship

I’ve been asked to provide a call to worship at the Church Synod on Friday evening. My general rule of thumb is to work with what’s engaging me. Last week I posted this,

Pukehinahina Cross, St Georges Anglican Gate Pa. Used with permission.

Which, with a bit of research, over the weekend I have shaped into the following Call to worship –

Leader: The cross,
offering reconciliation, making enemies friends,
All: May we, reconciled and reconciling, feel again Your call to mercy

Leader: The greenstone,
an item of treasure and value in Maori culture
All: May we, Your treasures in earthen clay, hear afresh Your call to value each other

Leader: The fishhook, carved in reference to Jesus invitation,
Come follow me: I will make you fishers of people
All: May we, Your fisher folk, experience anew Your call to mission

Leader: The fishhook, a pattern commonly carved in Maori culture
a symbol for a journey, speaking of the need for shared courage, wise leadership and safety in troubled times
All: May we, Your pilgrim people, find together new courage, wise leadership and surprising joy,

Leader: In our shared journey, Shaped always by this cross of Christ. Amen

art as public mission

The South Australian Art Gallery has gone public, in a fascinating way. They have taken 13 paintings out of the Gallery and hung them, in public, in locations around Adelaide

Art Gallery director Nick Mitzevich says once the artworks are found, people might photograph, add to or take possession of them. “The surprise [of] where people have found the work is really part of the project,” he said. “Putting the works within the public domain allows everyone to be a part of it, so the work isn’t the artwork itself, it’s the whole project and how it might play out. (More here)

I love the risk involved (what if the art got wet, stolen, disfigured?), the creation of curiousity in public spaces.

I immediately wondered what “art” the church might want to place in public? What 13 “acts of service” could be “hung” to be discovered? More liturgically, what about doing this around a church festival, say Holy week, invite artists to make a station and rather than invite folk to your church to watch it, simply hung them in public? More worship orientated, why not a church service, where your theme was “hung” around the building and children (big and little) had to play hide and seek to find the various parts?

It reminded me of bookcrossing, plus the work of Ric Stott in Sheffield, in placing clay figures outdoors during Lent. It’s all art as public mission, a way to invite curiousity, to find our story beyond church walls.