Walking the Road to Emmaus - Christianity and the Arts by CICW Worship

GUEST

EDITORIAL

JOHN

Calvin Institute

WITVLIET

of Christian

Worship

Calvin College, Grand Rapids, Michigan

tricably intertwined. Worship involves language,

Christian arts are inexwhether corporate the formalworship rhetoricand of the a carefully chiseled sermon or the spontaneous cries of Pentecostal prayer. Worship echoes patterns of sound and silence, from the earthy energy of an Appalachian gospel quartet to the numinous simplicity of a Palestrina motet. Worship is shaped by color, image, texture, and visual form, whether the simplicity of a Puritan meeting house or the ornate mystery of a Gothic cathedral. Worship is embodied movement, from the processional of a choir to the lifting of hands in praise. Often the artistic expressions that help us enact our worship arise from an encounter with a particular biblical narrative. Stained-glass windows depict one of Jesus' parables. A sermon explores a dramatic moment in Israel's history. A choral anthem, hymn, poem, chancel drama, or liturgical dance retells the story ofJesus' birth or death. Biblical narratives shape our imaginations when they are brought to life in worship. The Calvin Institute of Christian Worship joyfully explores this world of Scripture-shaped artistic expression. Our vocation is to challenge Christians in many traditions to rethink and re-experience the power and joy of our corporate worship to God in Christ. One of our goals is to inspire and encourage artists in many media to offer rich and fitting offerings, to enable corporate worship, and to include the receiving and embracing of our gifts. Rather than plan an issue simply about the arts in worship, we wanted this issue to help artists and receivers of the arts to encounter the arts directly in order to worship more faithfully and imaginatively. We could imagine no richer and more dramatic source of reflection than the Emmaus road narrative in Luke 24. Here a despairing lament turns into Easter joy. Here those who thought they had died with Christ realize they can also rise with Christ. Here we sense the power of Scripture to reframe our understanding of reality. Here we sense how eating and drinking with the risen Christ can reveal what is ultimately true and right. Arguably no narrative in all of Scripture is as rich in imaginative possibilities, not only for its use in worship, but also for helping us reconsider the significance of worship. This issue features works of art in several media that have grown out of faith-filled encounters with the Emmaus road narrative. Some works accent the lament of the Emmaus pilgrims that opens the narratives, others 2

their encounter with Scripture through Jesus' teaching, others the holy meal they shared with Jesus.The narrative is like a many-faceted diamond; the art works illuminate the facets. The longer we studied the text, the more we were intrigued with the parts and with the force of the whole. We were stunned by the dramatic movement that the Emmaus pilgrims experienced as they moved from despair to understanding to hospitality, from lament to epiphany to feast. This encounter with the risen Christ is at the heart of the Christian experience. We couldn't help noticing that the patterns of worship found in many Christian traditions embody this movement. In worship, we move from Kyrie to Credo to Sanctus, from pilgrimage to proclamation to eucharistic feasting, from font to pulpit to table.We are disciplined enough not to want to read this pattern back into the text. But we are intrigued by how this text can give us the spiritual eyes to see corporate worship as an occasion for such an encounter. As you read this issue, note that some of the art works are distinctly liturgical, containing the furniture and vessels that support and enable worship. In contrast, some are historical paintings and short stories that nevertheless have much to teach us about worship. Still others, such as poetry and dramatic scripts, will find a place in worship in some traditions but not in others. This blurring of the lines between worship and life is intentional. We long for integrated lives-"liturgical lives"-where worship and daily service inform, enhance, and strengthen each other. We want faithful, well-crafted Christian art that lives inside and outside our church sanctuaries. Most of the contributions to this issue are directly tied to the Calvin College community, either faculty or staff members. (Above, from left, Debra Rienstra, John Witvliet, Debra Freeberg, Carl Huisman, Chris Stoffel Overvoode, and Cindy Holtrop, who so carefully coordinated this issue). Music Professor David Fuentes from Calvin College is producing a choral anthem based on Rienstra's poem. Other contributors include George Langbroek, featured leader at the thirteenth annual Calvin Symposium on Worship and the Arts in 2000. Poetry and fiction entries are the results of a competition held in conjunction with the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing in 2000. Contact Calvin Institute of Christian WorshiP: worship@calvin.edu

Christianity and the Arts

Mission: To celebrate the revelation of God through the arts and to promote excellence in Christian expression. This special issue on Emmaus has been produced in conjunction with Calvin College's Symposium on Worship and the Arts from January 12-13, 2001. For more information, contact the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship at 3201 Burton St., S.E., Grand Rapids, MI 49546-4388. Webiste: www.calvin.edu/worship

Marci Whitney-Schenck Publisher and Editor

FEATURES

EDITORIAL ADVISORY BOARD

Font: Paintings of the Supper at Emmaus, by Chris Stoffel Overvoorde -

Caravaggio and Rembrandt Font: Passacaglia, by Debra Rienstra -

Choral text based on Luke 24

Corean Bakke, Rosalie de Rosset, Philip Dripps, Bob Nordloh, Jack Nyenhuis, Donna Ryan ASSISTANT EDITORS

Pulpit: Emmaus Epiphany, by Cindy Holtrop -

Beverly Reese, James Kilpatrick

A sermon on Luke 24:13-35

BOOK REVIEW EDITOR

Jeanette Hardage Pulpit: The Road to Emmaus, by Debra Freeberg -

CONTRIBUTING

The poetic license of choral theater Table: Emmaus, by Tania Runyan -

COpy

EDITORS

Sharon Mullins, Martha Rohlfing, Carol Thiessen

Winner of a poetry contest Table: For a Short TIme, by Albert Haley -

EDITORS

Jutta F. Anderson, Sofia Starnes

EVENTS CALENDAR

Moving to the beat

James Kroonblawd

Table: Sacramental Objects, by Carl Huisman -

FICTION EDITOR

Terrence Brown

'In the Shadow of His Wings'

MUSIC REVIEW EDITOR

Margaret McCamant

COLUMN

POETRY EDITOR

On Purifiction and Pollution, by Jutta F. Anderson Gerard Manley Hopkins, by Sofia M. Starnes, -

Robert Klein Engler Judith Deem Dupree

WEBMASTER

Marci Johnson DEPARTMENTS

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Guest Editor's Notes: John D. Witvliet and editorial team Book Reviews -

Poetry, by Tim Bascom Music Reviews -

P.O. Box 118088,

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(Toll free for subscriptions) All other queries: 312-642-8606 Fax: 312-266-7719 Chicago, IL 60611

Stoneware liturgical vessels by Carl Huisman. For more of his work, see p. 30. Photo by Robert Terborg

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Price: Single issue: $7. One year: $21. Phone: 312-642-8606. Address: P.O. Box 118088, Chicago, IL 60611. ISSN 1080-7608.Cover: The Risen Christ at Emmaus by Rembrandt, See p. 6. Winter 2001

Published quarterly (February, May, August, November)

I. Lament Luke 24:13-14

Christianity and the Arts

come identified with Christ in his death are baptized withisChrist, we beand we resurrection, which powerfully symbolized in baptism. But our union with Christ does not assure us of a trouble-free life. Even in our journey With Christ, there is lament. In the Luke passage (p. 4), the Emmaus pilgrims identified with Christ, yet they experienced lament, not knowing the amazing way Christ would realize their hopes. George Langbroek is an artist from St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada. By linking facets of Christianity and postmodernism, he expresses a contemporary method of art making, giving his art a strong voice that is heard by Christians and non-Christians alike. Langbroek made the font (above), the pulpit (p. 15), and the table (p. 23) for his worshiping com-

Wen

munity, the Jubilee Fellowship Christian Reformed Church in St. Catharines, Ontario. Because baptism is one of the pillars of the church's teaching, Langbroek used an actual pillar for the base of the baptismal font. The top section is raised from the base to symbolize the lifting or raising of children in baptism and dedication to God. The raised section is supported by three dowels, symbolizing Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, who through baptism tell us we belong to God and are washed clean for Christ's sake. Colored threads woven together in the shape of the cross are embedded in the hand-blown glass bowl. The threads symbolize the uniqueness of the individual who is baptized and gathered into the body of Christ. The glass bowl was made and designed by Robert Buick, a glass blower from St. Catharines, Ontario.

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Paintings of the Supper at Emmaus Caravaggio and Rembrandt By CHRIS STOFFEL OVERVOORDE from the oral storyteller's. The storyteller can visual artist's alwaysfreely been asdifferent embellish elementstaskof has the story long as the essence is not lost. The challenge for the visual artist is to capture the meaning of the whole story in one image. This was a primary concern for painters who followed in the wake of Leon Battista Alberti's early fifteenth-century writings on painting. Alberti explored the notion of historia-the idea that painting should portray movement and action and even convey reactions of the story's characters to the event being depicted. This was narrative art. The picture became a visual sermon that had to move and please the viewer. Art became subject to the rules of rhetoric; it had to be convincing, not just beautiful or devotional. Following Alberti, visual storytelling became popular in Italy. Eventually, it was brought to the Netherlands. Imagine how difficult this visual story telling must be for the Emmaus narrative. What one image can capture its essence? Can a painting begin to convey the mystery of this narrative? What kind of image can portray both Christ's humanity and his resurrected body, both the ordinariness of the Emmaus meal, as well as the spiritual mystery of the epiphany that took place there? These overarching questions are answered in the artist's treatment of details. What kind of gesture or posture should depict Christ? What kinds of gestures suggest the response of the disciples? Should their reactions be depicted as dramatic or quiet, expansive or introspective? What kind of lighting will show what is important in the work? How contemporary should the setting be? An even more basic question is how realistic the painting should be-a scene with photographlike clarity and detail? Or should the work downplay or even distort some of the details in order to point to the scene's meaning? Does realism help or inhibit the communication of the meaning of the Emmaus story?

The

Walk with us, then, through a small gallery of art works by Caravaggio (1573-1610) and Rembrandt van Rijn (1609-1669) that portray the events of the supper at Emmaus. As we study these works, we'll attend to several details in composition and lighting. Our goal will be to sense what dimension of the Emmaus narrative each artist wants to capture. Rembrandt's work teaches us the potential of visual art to convey the mystery of the Emmaus story. Rembrandt was intrigued by the challenge of seeing and not seeing, of being blind and having been made to see. For Rembrandt, the realism of Caravaggio was insufficient. Rembrandt wants us to see more than physical reality. He wants us to observe the spiritual reality that surrounds us. He paints in a way that makes us dissatisfied with physical reality. Both artists teach us that to tell the story of Christ at Emmaus demands a creative process of exploration and reflection, of reading and listening to the Word. It demands a process of making several drawings, prints, and paintings. No one image at one point in the artists' lives sufficed. In their repeated attempts to portray the Emmaus narratives, these artists teach us to revisit the dramatic narratives. What new things will we see? What new levels of perception will transform us? Caravaggio's and Rembrandt's works provide a powerful spiritual testimony. They testify and confess to belief in the Christ who died and rose for us. May we, too, be given eyes to see the presence of the resurrected Christ with us.

For more on these works, consult the following books: Caravaggio by Howard Hibbard (New York: Harper and Row, 1983); Caravaggio: A Life by Helen Langdon (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1998); and Rembrandt's Eyes by Simon Schama (New York: Knopf, 1999).

Christianity and the Arts

The Supper at Emmaus

by Michelangelo Caravaggio, 1596-1603, National Gallery, London

is known for introducing a new dramatic realism painter Michelangelo Caravaggio (1573-1610) into painting. He insisted upon the direct observation of nature and painstaking attention to detail. He studied both the manner in which human beings move within this world and the organization of space. His Emmaus painting reflects this concern for realism. In his Supper at Emmaus> the supper of grapes, fowl, wine, and bread seems ordinary. Everything else is not. The main characters of the event are placed in the foreground, confronting the viewer with their presence. They are close together and animated. The viewers' close-up view of the action pulls them into the drama of the work. Bold lighting holds our attention and conveys the drama of the moment. The entire painting has a theatrical appearance. The colorful words of art historian Simon Schama convey this idea memorably. In

Italian

n-::llntlna ~~p"pr"thlna l.;:ppmc;;:. <;:.n~<;:.thIS pamtmg, everythmg ':lnt1 and p"\lPrV()np everyone seems spasmodically electrified: foreshortened hands flung into space; a jaw-dropping, napkin-spilling epiphany" (Rembrandt>s Eyes> 249). The figure of Christ is central. Christ has not yet disappeared from sight. The image conveys his humanity, rather than his resurrected body. Christ is youthful, without a beard-perhaps to convey the narrative detail that he was unrecognizable. Christ is portrayed as blessing the evening meal, a moment prior to the breaking of bread. Caravaggio makes this moment the mysterious moment in which the disciples of thi<;;.

Emmaus recognize the risen Lord. The recognition itself is at the heart of the work. The two disciples react to Christ with dramatic gestures. The one on the left is seen getting up from his chair, pushing his chair back toward the viewer, almost crowding into the viewer's space. The one on the right is spreading his arms out wide, cruciform, in a gesture of total surprise. One arm is extended dramatically toward the viewer, another detail that draws us in and makes us feel a part of the scene. The triangular arrangement of the figures, with the table as the base of the triangle, is broken only by the standing figure of the servant. This aloof servant who stands next to Christ shows little or no response. This figure, not recorded in biblical account, does not perceive the power of the moment and does not recognize the resurrected Christ. Caravaggio seems to be saying

HUt ain~f~RtB~8Bl~iHtB~g~m~gp~~~m~yHst B~~~ the spiritual eyes to perceive the same spiritual reality. Not all share the Emmaus epiphany. The strong dramatic light from the left makes the table almost glow. The lighting in many of Caravaggio's paintings is meant as a spiritual presence. But even with this dramatic touch, it is difficult to get beyond the physical reality of this moment. Caravaggio's Emmaus is realistic. No one will doubt that the Christ depicted here is fully human. This is flesh-and-blood realism, in as much theatrical power as the painter can depict. Caravaggio has captured the drama of this recognition.

Winter 2001

Supper at Emmaus by Rembrandt,

Rembrandt created his first painting of the supAgeneration afterIn some Caravaggio's painting, is per at Emmaus. ways, the painting like Caravaggio's work. Notice especially the actions of the disciples. Though not identical to Caravaggio's figures, Rembrandt's disciples are also theatrical and dramatic. They express shock, while in the background, a servant goes about her routine duties. But the work is also quite different from Caravaggio's. It has relatively few details. There is no bread or cup, for example. More significantly, notice Rembrandt's use of light-a dimension which is always key in Rembrandt's works. This use of light raises many questions: Is the light the central moment or do we see

1629, Musee Jacquemart-Andre,

Paris

the Christ in that strong profile on the right? The light streams in from the outside but at the same time emanates from within the work. It is as though Christ is the light. Is this the moment of transformation, just after he breaks the bread? In the words of Simon Schama, "Jesus can now be simultaneously there and not there, discernible and fugitive, as if without the backlighting he would dissolve into celestial ether .... The painting is sensational. Literally. A transformation of knowledge conveyed by the senses; a transformation of the senses by knowledge" (Eyes of Rembrandt, p. 250). Rembrandt was only 23 when he created this work, but already he was exploring new territory and innovative ways of presenting the old stories.

Christianity and the Arts

Jesus' Disappearance in Emmaus by Rembrandt, 1648, pen and brush drawing, Cambridge,

Fitzwilliam Museum

Tie

for he returned to it in several different drawEmmaus have intrigued Rembrandt, ings, prints,story and must paintings throughout his lifetime. He did the same with the story of the crucifixion and the descent from the cross, moments that challenge the artist to portray spiritual mystery, the mystery of Christ as both human and divine. In his 1648 drawing, Jesus' Disappearance in Emmaus, Christ has become nothing more than light suggested by some scribbles. The two disciples are frozen in response: one is still sitting, and the other one is

standing. Their body language is minimal when compared to the earlier 1629 painting. This drawing reveals Rembrandt's exploration of different ways of telling the story visually, trying to find just the right moment and composition to reflect the essence of the narrative. It suggests that Rembrandt was trying to find an image that not only conveyed the disciples' moment of recognition at Emmaus but also conveys the moment that Christ disappeared from the disciples' sight. In tones of brown, the drawing communicates both warmth and earthiness.

Winter 2001

The Risen Christ at Emmaus,

1648, Musee de Louvre, Paris

a painting completed in 1648, producing a very Rembrandt challenge Emmaus in different revisited image totheconvey the of power of the story (see cover and above). The dramatic theatrical gestures are minimal when compared with those of the 1629 painting. The two men seated at the table barely respond in recognition of the revelation that has taken place. As viewers, we know the moment, but it is as though the two men have not yet recognized it. As Christ breaks the bread, he looks up. A very subtle halo over his head is reflected by the architectural arch above him. The grandeur of the architecture itself conveys the gravity of the moment. The light is no longer the theatrical spotlight as in the earlier work of 1629. Now the light emanates from within the person of Christ. It illuminates the table and the space behind Christ in a way that takes on a very spiritual 10

dimension. We become aware that the entire space of the painting is vibrating with the presence of the resurrected Christ. In this mature work, Rembrandt invites us to contemplate the mystery of the resurrected Christ. There are additional paintings, drawings, and prints of the same subject by Rembrandt. But even these four examples are enough to demonstrate the complexity of thte subject and the fact that no single painting is enough to capture an event. Chris Stoffel Overvoorde is an artist and designer who has shown his paintings and prints in regional, state, and national exhibitions. He has also served as a consultant on the visual aesthetics of worship spaces, as well as editorial consultant for Reformed Worship. He is professor of art emeritus at Calvin College, where he taught painting and drawing.

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Passacaglia Choral text based on Luke 24 By DEBRA RIENSTRA I. Weary, weary, Ancient One, remember: but for a drop of water, but for a little breath, we are dust.

Weary, weary, on holiness and horror the heavens brood in silence. We travel to the water, warm and still. Can these dry bones live again? Lord, you know, you know.

Weary, weary our eyes are dim, they fail, we are cut off and shattered; we have grown old. We had hoped. We are longing for the word, water in this wilderness, hidden, ancient word, these bones shall live.

II. Traveler, have you not heard? Our minds are bruised and dull, but we know what we saw. We saw hope hanging down, like an empty sack, sagging toward a slit of blackness ripped in time. And in our hollow hearts, cold stone hollow, one wisp of dream to tease our grief. Travelers, 0 weary ones, You walk a darkened way and stumble as you go. You sought an earthly throne to redeem your deep longing, but the prophets whisper harder words: the body breaks and bleeds, bitter anguish; Anointed One is lifted up to die.

Travelers, have you not heard? The one Eternal God has never looked away, but turns the gaze of love, steady, full on you, lifting to the wind all misery ... III. Stranger, stay with us. Night falls on tiresome roads, but your words strangely stir toward hope. Come, stay with us. Bread, simple and warm, wine, catching the candle's glow, light rising among us, light spreading from center to edge, light dancing in radiant eyes, voice, chanting the blessing, hands, tearing the bread, flesh passing to flesh.

o Lord! Emmanuel,

the one we love.

Fire of divine love, Lord. Ancient, eternal one, Lord. Infinity opens, filling the earth with new glory. All is transparent to holiness. Ancient, eternal one, Lord. One to Come, Lord! Alleluia!

[Coda] Jesus, come now to us. We long to welcome you our guest. Our stubborn hungers never yield, Nor restless travels cease but in your rest.

(Continued on p. 12) Winter 2001

Jesus, open our eyes. All shadows fly from truth's bright face, Your word a wind to fresh our souls, To open and prepare for you a place.

Don't journey alone on the road to Emmaus.

Jesus, enflame our hearts. This simple feast draws us to you. Send us in radiant joy to tell You live, and love's glad fire burns all things new.

Spiritual direction

Author's Notes: Since this issue was an interdisciplinary effort between colleagues at Calvin College exploring ways the arts enliven public worship, we wanted to create a choral text with a poet and composer working together to depict the narrative of Luke 24. David Fuentes, a music professor at Calvin College, and I began by studying the Luke 24 passage separately and then discussing the moods, dramatic gestures, and key phrases we found there. The discussions of the editorial team for this issue about

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the three-part movement of the text suggested a three-section musical form. However, we also felt some sort of coda was necessary to represent the reflective repose in which the disciples find themselves at the end. With that basic structure in mind, I studied commentaries and choral texts and began shaping a poem. Elemental images seemed fitting for the three sections: dust, wind, and fire. David, meanwhile, was experimenting with musical ideas and was attracted to a passacaglia form, in which a rhythmic figure is repeated as a ground throughout the piece. Once he had a rough text, he began setting the parts we both agreed were the strongest. When he had some melodic material settled, I went back and rearranged text freely to fit the music. Typical poetic priorities, like compression and innovation in each line, suddenly seemed excessive. Instead, music requires more parallel forms and places to breathe, not just

literally but rhythmically and conceptually. While much of the original material fell away, the result was tighter, more dramatic, and far more beautiful.

Debra Rienstra is assistant professor of English at Calvin College. She teaches writing and literature, and occasionally plays the viola. She is currently completing a book of "embodied spirituality" about pregnancy, birth, and motherhood. Information about the choral composition by Fuentes will be available on the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship website (www.calvin.edu/worship). 12

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patient instruction of the meaning of Scripture. Christian pilgrims Thestill Emmaus pilgrims were formed for their epiphany by Christ's gather to hear the Scripture's message proclaimed. We gather around pulpits and ambos in the context of public worship under the shadow of nothing less than God's Word, given to us for instruction and training in righteousness. The four pure white sections of this pulpit symbolize the gospels of Christ without which we would not know about or see the cross formed by the negative space in the pulpit. The partial transparency of the pulpit reminds hearers of the Word that the words spoken from the pulpit come through the cross. Conversely, the people who hear the Word see the preacher through the cross.

Winter 2001

â&#x20AC;˘â&#x20AC;˘

SERMON

Emmaus Epiphany By CINDY HOLTROP

Editor's note: You may be surprised to find a sermon in an issue of Christianity and the Arts. This inclusion is here not only to introduce us to main themes in Luke 24 :13-35, but also to make an important point about preaching. Christian corporate worship involves more than the architect of the sanctuary, the designer of the parament, and the composer of the hymn. One of the forgotten artists in worship is the preacher. This wordsmith enjoys the enormous challenge of presenting the message of a given scriptural text so that it leaps with life and hope from the page. Preachers approaching this craft need to be both imaginative and accessible. True, the preacher crafts for the ear not only with words, but also with pauses and inflections, and we can't bring you these here. But we can bring you the script. Perhaps you might wish to read the sermon aloud to your household, small group, or as they did in ancient culture, to yourself. As you do, we hope your reading will shepherd you into dimensions of the Emmaus story that are explored in other contributions to this issue.

disciples from Emmaus. Seven was a roller coasterfollowed week for the the days ago they crowds shouting, "Hosanna, hosanna to the Son of David." Never had their hopes been this high. Perhaps an end to the heavy hand of Roman rule was closer than ever before. No more taxes. No more trips to Bethlehem for census taking. No more guards in the streets watching their every move. Here on this colt was the true King of the Jews. How long had they and their people patiently waited for him? In one short week, the hopes of Cleopas and the other disciple, and so many of the others who followed Jesus, plunged into lament. Only five days after exclaiming, "Hosanna," people were shouting, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" It was a cruel twist of events. Perhaps the two disciples watched in the shadows as the one they mistook for their deliverer hung in humiliation on a cross. And now several women and a few of the disciples reported that his tomb was mysteriously empty. Disillusioned, discouraged, disheartened-they walk to Emmaus, rehearsing the events of the week along the way. They are hardly aware that someone has joined them on the road. The stranger inquires about their conversation. "But, sir, where have you been? How could anyone not have heard about what happened Christianity and the Arts

during the last week? It is the talk of Jerusalem. " Again, the disciples recycle the story. The stranger listens patiently. They are surprised by his lack of despaIr. "Why does it take you so long to understand what has happened? Don't you see that Jesus had to pass through the suffering of the cross so that he could be glorified?" The stranger guides them through the scriptures they know so well. He offers a new perspective of people and events.This well-versed teacher shows them how the words of Moses and the law, the psalms, and the prophets, all of these, point to one personJesus Christ the Messiah, their deliverer. But he had to suffer and die in order to deliver them. That was not the kind of deliverer they had in mind. They wanted a king who came riding into town with a royal army and with flags waving. But if they got the kind of deliverer they really wanted, who would save them from the next political enemy? The future they thought they had solved is turned on its head with this teacher's words. Here was a Savior who had saved them not from political enemies but from themselves. The guilt they placed on others was the guilt they found hidden in themselves. And the one whose death they mourned cancels their guilt. A whole new future is

ther revealed in one of his last poems, "That Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire ... ." The poem unfolds quences of dynamic

with rapid severbs: flaunt,

Interview with Peggy Rosenthal

chevy, throng, glitter, arches, lashes, wrestles, beats .... Word after word,

author of

we are made to relive the vertiginous pursuit of a penitential soul. Then, as critics Leopoldo Duran and Paul Mariani point out in diverse studies, the poem culminates with a totally different verb: "Immortal diamond/ Is immortal diamond." Hence, in the last line we encounter transforming stillness, brilliant-being, ecstatic umon.

The Poets' Jesus: Representations at the End of a Millennium (Oxford University Press, 2000, pp. 189)

For Hopkins, priesthood was the life-response of his enamored soul, and his poems are necessarily poems of love. His keen awareness of linguistic patterns and his enlightened Anglo-Saxon use of language responded to this love calling. His particular historical usage of English meant a return to word-making through juxtaposition, a reliance on compound words, dialectal and individual habits, memorable alliteration -all within the harmonizing law of language. In this manner, also, the poems take us toward unified complexity: inscape. Divine-human love finds its linguistic consummation in the vibrant intermarriage of words. One of the most descriptive depictions of Christ's priesthood appears in this verse from the scene at Emmaus: " ... they had recognized him in the breaking of the bread." The moment invites us to the opening up of creation in Godly hands, and to the partaking of that creation that all might be one. Through his poetry, Gerard Manley Hopkins opens the bread of his heart, communicates with excruciating detail the make-up of his soul, his love-sustained search, his unfinishing. Then, we are invited to eat. We do so fully, and in the "inscaping" of his offering, the sacramental reconciliation is fulfilled.

Sofia Starnes, a widely published poet, is the recipient of a poetry fellowship from the Virginia Commission for the Arts. Her e-mail is whsstarnes@widomaker.com

Q: How have poets depicted the image of Jesus throughout the centuries? That's a big question, which really the whole book addresses. I see poets re-creating Jesus as a character on the stage of their particular era or culture. So, for instance, a medieval poet like Hildegard of Bingen envisions a cosmic stage on which every detail of the universe is inscribed in the Body of Christ. Then for a Romantic like Blake, Jesus is still a grand cosmic figure, but he's the Great Rebel against all restrictive social forces which repress the human imagination. Q. Why have postmodern poets depicted Christ as an anti-hero? Postmodernism denies the possibility of ultimate meaning. Jesus, for Christianity, is precisely the core meaning of life. So one strategy of postmodern poets is to have Jesus himself deny his own meaning: bitterly mock his crucifixion as merely a waste, for instance, or as a bad joke played on him by God. These poets turn Jesus into an anti-hero to represent their sense that heroic, meaningful gestures are empty. For an analogy in the visual arts, I think of the comically grotesque figures of the Colombian painter Fernando Botero. When Botero paints Jesus, he looks absurdly clownish, just like everyone else on Botero's stage. Botero says that the subjects of his paintings are "plastic events," without moral value. Similarly, the subject of a postmodern poem is "verbal events," with no meaning beyond the words. Jesus

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as Word now uncapitalized-mere word, babble, bad joke-represents this perfectly. Q. We often think of our past century as devoid of quality Christian writing, yet you have found many poets who excel in writing poetry with a Christian sensibility. Can you comment on these poets and why they found Jesus to be a source of serious poetic inspiration? The twentieth century dubbed itself "the secular century," proud that it had rid itself of religious superstition. But I sometimes think of the century's secularism as an unexpected vehicle for grace. Hardly anyone of us grew up taking Christian belief for granted. Either it was dismissed as outdated in our schools and _families, or if we came from a practicing Christian family we felt defensive in the wider culture. In this context, poets drawn to Christianty often feel it as a wonderful, secret discovery. The figure of Jesus is fresh to them. Secular culture has stripped Jesus of his value, so poets are at liberty to see him free of stale images that he had accumulated in past eras. Since poetry is the art of the word, Jesus as Word is especially compelling for Christian poets. Vassar Miller, who wrote some of the best unashamedly Christian poetry of the century, said that "Christianity is the religion of the Word-made-flesh and poetry is its most natural voice."

Peggy Rosenthal, 537 Harvard St., Rochester, NY 14607; pegrosenthal@yahoo.com.

opening up for them. Their life compass is pointed in a new direction. They want to drink and eat more and more of what this stranger has to say. Later, they say to each other, "Didn't our hearts burn as he talked with us along the road?" What does it mean to have a "burning heart" ? Your intense longing is finally fulfilled. Your eyes see something as if for the first time. The treasure you've been searching for is here. You realize the good news is really for you. The deliverer you were looking for has come and fills the deep cavity you did not know was there. Perhaps you recall a scripture passage you once read that made you pause-because this was the Word you needed to hear. It was a word of grace for guilt that you could not carry-" he was wounded for our transgressions." Perhaps you read, "The Lord is my Shepherd," and the Word was a salve for aching loneliness or desperate worry; perhaps it was Christ's parting promise, "I will never leave you or forsake you." Perhaps it was a psalm of lament that gave words to the anguish you could not voice: "Why are you downcast, my soul, why so disquieted within me?" In these moments of epiphany you were reassured again of Christ's presence and God's care for you. Our hearts burn when the words of Scripture meet the horizon of our needs; that is, when the Word comes so close it shouts our name. It confronts our despair, shapes our future, and offers us Easter hope. But perhaps we don't sense the bright hot hope of scripture. Our spiritual cholesterol reading is high. Our arteries are clogged. The constant barrage of words from television, radio, e-mail, and voice mail crowd out the one Word we most need to hear. A friend told me recently that he was going to reserve his cottage for relaxing with his family and friends, for reading novels and the Bible, and for times of prayer. No television, no e-mail, no laptop, no Internet, no cell phone. He wanted to create a space

to listen and receive. He needed a space for Emmaus surprises. The two disciples are near Emmaus. It is getting dark. They urge their teacher not to travel any farther. There might be bandits along the road. "Stay with us, be our guest." They set the table with a simple meal. Usually the head of the household says the blessing. But before they speak the words, their guest grasps the unleavened bread, and says, "Blessed are you, Lord our God, who brings forth bread from the earth." Tearing the bread in two, he offers it to his guests. The roles are reversed. Their guest becomes their host-the one who feeds them. The two disciples, now guests in their own home, catch their breath. Their eyes are opened, and they recognize the resurrected Christ. He is seated at their table serving them. And as soon as they recognize him, Christ vanishes. The moment they realize they have been eating with their hoped-for deliverer, he is no longer there. They could not hold on to his physical presence. Perhaps they gripped the bread that their Savior just held, saying, "He is risen! He was here with us!" And perhaps, like us, they still had questions-questions they would have asked over one more piece of bread. Perhaps they would have touched his robe. If only he could stay with them a while longer. Why doesn't Christ linger at the meal? Perhaps because they cannot cling to the visible, physical presence of Christ. Perhaps because instead of our attention being drawn to Christ's physical body, Luke turns our eyes to Christ, the living bread, the one who feeds and fills our souls from day to day. Could it be that for Christ to be most powerfully present forever in history, he must be physically absent? Later, with Easter joy, the two from Emmaus tell the other disciples, "We recognized him in the breaking of the bread." The first-century Christians watched eagerly for the return of Winter 2001

Christ, and they expected it during their lifetime. They longed for the presence of Christ. But while Christ was absent from them physically, how could they know that Christ was still with them? Like them, we long for a sign of Christ's voice and presence. If only we could touch the hem of Christ's garment, his nail prints, or hear Christ speak our name. In this gripping story, Luke shows us that Christ speaks to us through the scriptures. We understand the prophets and Moses through the life of Christ, and through the scriptures, Christ comes to us again and again. But his speech is not enough. We also want Christ near us. When we break bread and drink the wine, we participate in a mystery that we cannot fully explain but more often need to experience. Christ is present with us in a way that is more profound than if he were to appear physically beside us. Perhaps most often we fear Christ's absence-when our thoughts tumble and churn at 3 a.m., when a spouse shreds our trust, when loneliness seeps into the edges of our life. We look for signs of Christ's presence every day in the middle of conversations with friends, or during a late night watch by someone's bedside, or in the moonlight shining through bare tree branches. We are surprised by the ways Christ comes to us. But here on Easter evening our deepest longing and hope are confirmed: Christ still speaks, and Christ is still with us. Cindy Holtrop is program manager at the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship and anticipates ordination to ministry in 2001. Her passion is to equip lay people and worship leaders in the area of hospitality in the worshiping community. She has published three intergenerational Christmas dramas based on the gospels. She may be reached at Calvin Institute of Christian Worship, 3201 Burton St. S.E., Grand Rapids, MI49546.

CHORAL

THEATER

The Road to Emmaus ARRANGED

BY DEBRA

This choral piece is intended to be woven into the fabric of a service, the three parts interspersed with other elements of the service. Characters include a narrator, five readers, and two disciples.

I. LAMENT: Absence The readers are split between the two sides of the church. The church is in twilight darkness. READER 1: Save me, Oh God, for the waters have come up to my neck. READER 3: He/she wants a divorce. READER 2: I sink in deep mire where there is no foothold. READER 4: I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me. READER 5: Cancer? Are you sure? It's cancer? READER 1: I am weary with my crying, my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim waiting for my God. READER 2: I am lowly and in pain; let your salvation, God, protect me. READER 3: 0 God, you know my folly; the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you.

READER 2: My prayer is to you, 0 Lord. READER 3: Answer me, Lord, for your steadfast love is good. READER 4: You know the insults I receive, and my shame and dishonor, my foes are all known to you. Insults have broken my heart so that I am in despair. READER 5: My daughter hates me. READER 1: My father hates me. READER 2: My boss hates me. READER 3: I hate myself. 18

FREEBERG

READER 1: Do not hide your face from your servant, for I am in distress. READER 5: I don't sleep at night. I just roam the hallways. READER 2: Make haste to answer me. READER 4: I failed the test. READER 1: I failed my wife. READER 3: I failed. (pause) Draw near to me. READER 4: Redeem me. READER 5: Set me free because of my enemies. READER 1: They fired me this morning. READER 3: I drink too much. READER 4: I have nowhere to go. READER 2: Nowhere to turn. READER 3: No one will listen. READER 2: Make haste to answer me. Two disciples journey up an aisle during the reading. NARRATOR: On the third day, two of the disciples, Cleopas was one, were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem and talking with each other about the things that had happened. DISCIPLE 1: It was about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon DISCIPLE 2: While the sun's light failed, and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. DISCIPLE 1: Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Having said this, he breathed his last. READER 4: A good and righteous man named Joseph of Arimathea went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. READER 1: Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb. READER 2: It was the day of Preparation, and the

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Sabbath was beginning. NARRATOR: While the two men were talking with each other Jesus himself came near and went with them. READER 3: But their eyes were kept from recognizing him. NARRATOR: Jesus asked them, "What are you discussing?" DISCIPLE 1: Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there? NARRATOR: What things? DISCIPLE 2: The things about Jesus of Nazareth who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people. DISCIPLE 1: Our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death. DISCIPLE 2: They crucified him. DISCIPLE 1: They crucified him. We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. DISCIPLE 2: We had hope. READER 5: I've never been in so much pain. READER 3: How can God allow this to happen to us? READER 5: 0 God, do not be far from me. READER 2: Where is God in all this suffering? READER 3: My daughter's pregnant. She's only fifteen. READER 2: 0 my God, make haste to help me! READER 4: Rescue me, 0 my God, from the hand of the wicked. READER 1: You are my help and my deliverer: 0 Lord, do not delay! READER 5: I'm dying. ALL: Redeem me.

II. REVELATION: Search for Understanding The lighting should brighten perceptibly here. NARRATOR: The next morning Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, the mother of James, and others went to the tomb, found the body gone, and two men in dazzling clothes beside them. READER 4: "Why do you look for the risen among the dead? He is not here, but has risen," exclaimed the angel of the Lord. READER 3: Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners? READER 4: And be crucified. READER 3: And on the third day rise again. READER 1& 5: Remember. READER 2: Confirm to your servant your promise,

A reader's theater performs The Road to Emmaus. which is for those who fear you. READER 1: Remember your word to your servant, in which you have made me hope. READER 4: This is my comfort in my distress, that your promise gives me life. NARRATOR: Two disciples, Cleopas one, on the road to a village called Emmaus. While the two men were talking with each other, Jesus himself came near and went with them. DISCIPLE 1: It is now the third day since things took place. DISCIPLE 2: Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning. DISCIPLE 1: They did not find his body. DISCIPLE 2: but a vision of angels. DISCIPLE 1: Angels claiming that He was alive. DISCIPLE 2: Simon Peter went to the tomb and found it as the women said. DISCIPLE 1: But he didn't see angels. DISCIPLE 2: No angels and no body. DISCIPLE 1: An idle tale. DISCIPLE 2: We didn't believe the women. DISCIPLE 1: We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. But they crucified him. READER: God-sent redemption to his people; he has commanded his covenant forever. READER 2: Teach me, 0 Lord, the way of your statutes, and I will observe it to the end. Give me understanding that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart. READ ER 5: The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have good understanding. DISCIPLE 2: We didn't believe the women. READER 3: Jesus said, "How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have de-

Winter 2001

clared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" NARRATOR: Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, Jesus interpreted to them the things about himself in the Scriptures. READER 5: I bless the Lord who gives me counsel. I keep the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. READER 4: Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul reJOiCes.

READER 3: You show me the path of life. READER 2: In your presence there is fullness of joy. NARRATOR: As the two disciples and Jesus came to Emmaus, Jesus walked ahead as if he were going on. DISCIPLE 1: But we urged him strongly, saying ... DISCIPLE 2: Stay with us. DISCIPLE 1: It is nearly evening. DISCIPLE 2: The day is nearly over. Stay with us. READER 1: You have done great things, 0 God, who is like you? READER 3: You have made me see many troubles and calamities. You will revive me again. READER 4: From the depths of the earth you will bring me up agam. READER 2: You will increase my honor. READER 5: And comfort me once again. NARRATOR: So Jesus went in to stay with them. READER 1: I will praise the name of God with a song! READER 2: I will magnify him with thanksgiving! READER 3: Let the oppressed see it and be glad. READER 5: For the Lord hears the needy and does not despise his own that are in bonds. READER 4: You who seek God let your hearts revive.

I can go on. I will survive. READER 1: The snares of death encompassed me, the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me, I suffered distress and anguish. READER 4: Every day it gets a little better and a little better. READER 3: We're talking again. READER 2: We can love again. Just differently this time. READER 3: Then I called on the name of the Lord, "0 Lord, I pray, save my life." READER 5: Hospice is here every day. It's easier now. I am ready to see Jesus. READER 4: Return 0 my soul to your rest, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you. NARRATOR: Jesus went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed, and broke it. And gave it to them. DISCIPLE DISCIPLE DISCIPLE DISCIPLE

1: At that moment our eyes were opened. 2: It was Jesus! 1: Then he vanished. 2: He was gone. He broke bread, gave it to us.

READER 3: Bless our God, 0 peoples. READER 5: Let the sound of his praise be heard. READER 1: He has kept us among the living and has not let our feet slip. READER 2: Though we went through fire and through water READER 4: God has brought us out to a spacious place.

The entire congregation should be illuminated. The sacrament of Communion is incorporated into this section.

DISCIPLE 2: Our eyes were opened when he broke bread. DISCIPLE 1: Were our hearts not burning within us while he was talking to us on the road? DISCIPLE 2: Were our hearts not burning within us when he opened up the Scriptures to us? DISCIPLE 1: We left our home. We left Emmaus to return to Jerusalem and the eleven and their companions. DISCIPLE 2: The Lord had also appeared to Simon! DISCIPLE 1: He is risen indeed! DISCIPLE 2: The Lord is risen indeed! He made himself known to us in the breaking of the bread.

NARRATOR: Thus says the Lord, "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior."

NARRATOR: Shall we not do likewise? Shall we not let the Lord make himself known to us in the breaking of bread? The apostle Paul tells us, "I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you. The Lord Jesus on the night he was betrayed took a loaf of bread. When he had given thanks, he broke it and said, 'This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.'"

READER voice and READER READER

Sacrament of Communion administered according to the custom of your congregation. Preferably, in keeping with the action of the text, loaves of bread should be broken and distributed.

III.

CELEBRATION: Communion

4: I love the Lord, because he has heard my my supplication. 3: He has inclined his ear to me. 2: Knowing that my friends pray for me...

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READER 2: I am the Lord and besides me there is no saVlOr. READER 1: Come bless the Lord, all you servants of the Lord who stand in the house of the Lord! NARRATOR: May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us. Let the people praise you, 0 God. Let all the people praise you!

NARRATOR: Shall we not go forth and witness to this good news? READER 2: The Lord, through the prophet Isaiah says, READER 3: Here are my servants, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights. READER 4: I have put my spirit upon them. READER 5: They will bring forth justice to the nations.

(Scriptural excerpts are taken from Luke 23 and 24; Psalms 16,66,67,71, 111, 119, 134; Isaiah 42 and 43; and 1 Corinthians 11. All Scripture is from the NRSV. If you use this script, the author requests that you contribute a royalty of $15 to the Katie Bytwerk Memorial Scholarship, which provides funds for students to study overseas. Mail to Calvin College, the Development Office, 3201 Burton St. SE, Grand Rapids, MI 49546.)

READER 1: Thus says the Lord our God, READER 2: I am the Lord. READER 3: I have called you in righteousness. READER 4: I have taken you by the hand and kept you. READER 5: I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind. READER 1: To bring out the prisoners from the dungeon. READER 2: To comfort the afflicted. READER 3: To be the body of Christ on this earth. READER 4: You are my witnesses, says the Lord, my servants whom I have chosen. READER 5: Know me and believe me and understand that I am he. READER 4: Before me no god was formed. READER 3: Nor shall there be any after me.

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Table

disciples. At the Christian table, bread is still taken, broken, blessed, and Emmaus, Christ took bread, broke it, gave thanks, and gave it to his given. And still today, eyes are opened and hearts begin to burn with hope, wonder, and faith. The circular shape of this Communion table bears several associations. The circle is a sign of completion-Christ's sacrifice is full and complete, a symbol for the world where we live and for which Christ died. The circle is also a symbol for harmony, the way we are to live with each other and in the world. As we gather around the table, we can see each other to form another circle-a community.

Winter 2001

ElTIInaus BY TANIA RUNYAN

Strangers live only one minute. They hover near along Michigan Avenue as I flash through the miracles of my life: my moles not purpling, my L not derailing, my head not glittering with bullets. As I cross the street, this young man will vanish, the arms of his leather jacket squeaking out of memory. Gone, the woman whose thighs sway in pink leggings, lilies crammed under her arm. I have to believe they will go on without me. I must picture them sleeping in their own square feet, dust orbiting their luminous bodies in rpvprpnrp

Whpn mv mir:1cles cease

under the weight of stone. I can go no further than the beauty of God suffering. My hands blacken with clots, and I can imagine nothing but the past, when I saw my life before me. I walk a heavy track of endings, every stratus a strip of burial linen, sunrise, the open scar of the universe. IV

My friend of -several years sits across the table, whirling spaghetti around her fork. She opens, takes in the shimmering strands dotted with basil. It's a wonder these are the same mouths

imposing force on every distant planet.

But visions are not enough. I need the friend's strange flash to burn its haze across my spirit, slowly spreading over my hours, my geographies, burning in me, and burning everywhere, without me.

And in a moment she is smiling, asking for a napkin.

VII

I am decidedly too small to carry time like this. Let me hang in one moment, forever.

The best part of having God in your house is watching him suddenly singe through your door, simmering on, and persisting, without you.

Something like God has entered my house - luminous, yes, a thin gauze of fire hovering in the doorway. I've forgotten what prayers can invite. In the waves of heat I imagine I see stones ascending from the ground, Michigan Avenue jubilant with errands on the day of my death.

Tania Runyan lives in the Chicago area, where she teaches high school English. Her poems have appeared in many journals, including Southern Poetry Review, Poetry Northwest, and Willow Review. This poem won first place in a thematic Luke 24 poetry and short fiction contest sponsored in association with the 2000 Calvin Festival of Faith and Worship.

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COLLEGE

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Winter 2001

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FICTION

For a Short Time BY ALBERT HALEY

ears. I still have the silver quarter.

other person, not even my mother or sister is more begins thisForway. in my life everywithday.straw No important. he He is tallis and charming hair like a field waving at harvest time. He walks on the balls of his feet, placing you in the presence of a perpetual athlete who on game day can never be brought down. He's always ready to pick me up with an ironhanded lunge. He is also my dispensary of wisdom. That's him bending knees to crouch and teach me to identify the first of eight kinds of nonvenomous Western snakes. It's a gray garter curled at our feet today. I think it looks like a strand of spaghetti in the bowl of soft grass behind our house. "See?" my father says. "See?" Easy fingers. He is showing me how to walk the dog with my red, wooden Duncan. "Like this, son." Though he's never done yo-yo heroics in his life, in five minutes he has mastered taut string and wrist flip. In another fifteen clock ticks I am expert too, prepared to show the rough, cut-up boys at school. At recess I indulge in faithful mimicry. The eyes grow large. On the gravel beside the swingsets I become a giant. "Wow," someone says. His brand of miracles is regular. On rainy Saturdays he cues an LP on the stereo's turntable and tells me to listen for the horn blast surprise in Haydn's Symphony No. 94. At vacation time he slides behind the wheel. As Mother smiles, he recites from "Prufrock," continuing with all the "Michelangelos" and then smoothly segues into the nature praises of Psalm 104. Meantime, Sis and I go on like barbarians in the backseat. We end the day in a motel and get down to rigorous application of tiny soap bars. "Don't miss the cooties," he says. With gentle thumb and forefinger the magician leans over the tub and pretend-inspects our 26

It is dinnertime. He parks his briefcase and overcoat in the front closet. He joins us at the table and in a voice that rumbles like boulders coming down from the mountaintop, he says grace. Meal finished, he rises from his chair and kisses Mother. It is a chisel making a sweet tap upon the artist's best work in Italian marble. "Another lovely repast, Princess." Do I claim perfection here? As if the man were a saint? Not at all. For there is a thin crack in this faithful, churchgoing, Scripture-loving dad who never has a harsh word for anyone, whose inventiveness is without peer, who belly laughs with so little provocation, who delights in his life, his family, and his God. Simply put, he lies to us. Over time the misleading words are stuffed like rocks into pockets, but he does it so beautifully that it is only later I take out those hard articles and assemble sentences. Then I learn. His "I'll always be with you" is as bogus as sunshine rain. Of course, he never says he won't go away. All those years it is a lie of my own mind, reinforced by his vitality and armchair hugs and I love you's. I just always assume how it will be. Dying? Rebuke the thought. I preach personal sermons. I spin dazzling prayers. I guess I'm not so different from you? The petitions and imprecations always end the same: "Lord forbid. May it never be so." One day, years later, it hits him like an iron gate slamming down on a cell block. The chest heaves then caves back upon itself. He is in a restaurant dining with Mother. Wedding anniversary of all things. Water glasses and silverware flying. In his chair he falls. As soon as we receive word, Sis and I fly in. There are as many tubes as on a prime time drama where the surgeon and the scrub nurse are ravishingly in love.

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That's not what this is. No diverting tale or Hollywood complexions. We look into the face of grim. Not saying a word, the thin figure's straw hair is obscured by smashed pillow. The doctor takes us aside. "The next twenty-four hours are critical." What is to be done? We fall back on old ways. We watch, we hope, we pray. In the Age of Science, the scientist offers no stronger medicine. Two days later, we are looking on. We hardly believe it. He sits up in bed. He eats spoonfuls of strawberry yogurt. He smiles weakly at Mother. "Some repast, eh, Princess?" Back in the $100-a-night hotel room we are in a celebratory mood. Let's take out the bottle of sparkling cider, I suggest. We'll raise a minor family toast. We sip from plastic drinking cups and chew slices of delivery pizza. "Didn't he look better?" "Did you think he could ever rally so soon?" "No, but God does answer prayers," Mother insists. "I wonder what we were thinking?" "Yes, what were we thinking?" And I am pulling on a string of cheese, contemplating framing words of thanks. The telephone rings. We freeze. We wait for Mother to answer. "No, you get it," she says to me. In the backseat of the taxi Sis squeezes my hand. So hard she grips down. Around us city streets are midnight empty. Soon the familiar hospital looms. Complete silence except for Mother's reserved sobs. My hand has gone to sleep. Limbless me. Three of us get out. The voice on the phone has told very little, saying only, "You must come right away." I fling the fare at the unshaven, garlic smelling man who gestures toward his meter. I happen to notice that the number ends in two zeros. "No change," I say. Beneath sodium vapor lamps, the three of us wash up eerily from the asphalt waters of a river we don't dare name. A woman in white stands guard. She is beside the bed, writing on a clipboard. Now the picture completes itself. The woman, still unaware of us, is reaching down and about to pull the sheet up. Sis shrieks, her great silence finally ruptured. She sees how his arms stretch out. They've tied him to the bed rails to prevent thrashing in his sleep and he has finished up in this splayed posture. Sis rushes ahead of Mother, starts unfastening him. She is going to claim the body, anointing it with spicy spittle flying from her mouth. She curses the sickly, weightless nurse: "You let him die. You didn't stop it. You let him die!" An hour later we still have to restrain her from time to time. This is the most difficult part to explain. How he is in the grave a month, a month, and a month. Then out of nowhere the dream comes.

You'll think I'm preparing to tell that my father appears within that wavering nocturnal border, but it's not that. My father is not in the dream like the hundreds of others dreamed since the funeral. Not explicitly. Instead, the dream is cotton candy carnival, noise makers, and bright rides. This is followed by a long, foggy climb where I perch at the peak of the roller coaster, my hand on the smooth brass safety bar. "This is going to be fun," I am saying. Then with breath blasted from my lungs I make a terrifying descent from the top. I wake up. A man stands across the room. A stranger. This is real because he has one hand touching a photo on my dresser and I can hear his fingernail scraping the frame. It is startling and frightening, too. He turns to me now with a sympathetic look, and I find I can see quite well in the dark. His penetrating glance causes me to plunge into his eyes like a swimmer into blue. The progression from screaming nightmare to indented reality-a reality in which everything is on hold, digging spikes in and waiting for the pitch-comes naturally, ~Tmready/ Stranger says.The word!; are ealm, confident, as if this is what he's been instructed to say. "Tell me what you've been thinking." I speak of my father. I give everything out because I know Dad is what the dream has been about. His life lived, his life seized. And the part about pouring Dad from the urn into my hands ninety days. FOR A SHORT TIME. "Do you know what that's like, Stranger? To have the one who gave you life, and led you moment by moment, curled up as ash in your palms? Just a few handfuls. Do you know what it's like?" He has been listening. Hasn't said a word. Until now. "You need to eat." From beneath his robe he removes a crust of bread and without thought or resistance I swallow in the darkness, suddenly unable to see again, but as I eat, the crunchy, yeasty mass caresses my tongue and I swallow the goodness until something else comes out from under his garment. It makes a clattering when it hits the floor. After that there is a distinct, long-lasting, rolling rattle as it journeys into an obscure corner. Shyly apologizing, he chases after. Just as he catches up to it, the room lights snap on. It is red as a harvest apple. The yo-yo. I'm describing it. That's exactly how it looked. Can some type of resurrection come with uproarious laughter? Is there comedy in redemption? I know, yes, I know. What it means to spin dizzily at the center of circular amazement. Sometimes a miracle announces its own logic. It comes around. The boulders are removed from my father's voice. "Listen, son," Dad says. He gives me the toy. He puts

Winter 2001

hands on my shoulders so the weight is there, solid, real. He pauses and I feel he is about to offer words that will go into me permanently. Not through memorization, but rather they will vibrate within my bones, tissues, and organs. Like one of my prayers muttered in a crowd or in the car, initially born out of frustration or a stubborn desire to test the powers of God, yet I sense it suddenly growing wings, and it flutters past my closed eyelids and I don't say so, but I am shocked at what I feel. The words are about my whole being. "Here's how "He fought the Death could not

to become a part of it works," Dad says. battle for me. And win."

Until now I have not told anyone about all this though it rings like a hammer on the anvil of Truth. Perhaps the familiarity comes from the book I pick up. In one of its Gospels I read of a similar case long ago. A man whom they urgently missed was right

alongside them and they took a long, long while to recognize him. Despair mated to lack of imagination, is this not the most potent of camouflagers? Which leaves me with where I am today, sitting in a coffee shop at 8 a.m. My briefcase rests at my feet. I am a nondescript, middle-aged man about to settle into another day at the office. But first I have to write. I want to have it straight before I tell others. As I work with the ballpoint, an odd thing occurs: the words on the yellow pad line up in two columns. I have no idea why. For a short time he was there. He even said my name. Nothing forgotten, nothing broken. He fed me, I ate. We laughed together. I tear the sheet off the pad, place it in my pocket. I feel what else is in there. I take it out. I play it out on its string a couple of times. Nice, easy wrist snap and it always comes back. People look, then grow disinterested. I put it away. On the street corner. Hurrying pe-

destrian

and vehicular

traffic

mates air molecules with dusty humanity's presence. A siren cuts in, fades out; it's far away. I linger obediently at the curb. The light turns green. I step off. For the first time, I think I know what morning is. Then my feet hit the pavement. Great strides. Briefcase swinging. A man is going to work. A man is going further. Watch me.

Albert Haley is writer in residence at Abilene Christian University. His fiction has appeared in Image: A Journal Books Hidden

of the Arts and Religion, Windhover, and Manna. "For a Short

& Culture,

Time" was inspired in part by a collaborative production called "The Thanatos Negotiations" in which Haley joined with pianist Gustavo Tolosa to combine poetry and classical music to deal with the theme of untimely loss.

CJ1Jhere /!jreat ~usic 0fJeets at @!Jtome •. Choral music at Azusa Pacific University involves more than 300 students, nearly 200 of which are music majors . •. APU Choral Ensembles have enjoyed engagements with groups such as the Cincinnati POPS!, Long Beach Symphony Orchestra POPS!, and the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra . •. Recent performances include Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, Vivaldi's Gloria, Rutter's Gloria, Handel's Messiah, and Brahm's Requiem.

SCHOOL AZUSA

PACIFIC

UNIVERSITY

901 E. Alosta Ave. • Azusa, CA 91702-7000 (800) 825-5278

• www.apu.edu

Christianity and the Arts

ani-

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Susan Brooks Voice,Vocal Pedagogy, Staging I Techniques; Artist Diploma) Hartt

Director of Gordon Women's Choir; M.M.) Boston Conservatory; President oj Massachusetts ACDA

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John Sullivan Voice, Artist Diploma) St. Louis Conservatory

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oj Music; M.M.) University of Tennessee at Knoxville

GORDON

COLLEGE-WHERE

FAITH

CONNECTS

WITH

THE ARTS

Sacramental vessel 'In the Shadow of His Wings~ By

CARL HUISMAN

objects for use in the tabernacle. The Lord not only Exodus and Oholiab make told them 31, whatGod to called make Bezalel but equipped them toto do so. He put in their hearts wisdom, understanding, knowledge, and craftsmanship. Note that God also cared about their thoughts and deeds. Over the last decade, I have read this passage on occasion in my class devotions. I share with the students my own experience of God's call some thirty-five years ago. During the last several years, I have received commissions to create objects for use in worship and have experienced this as an affirmation of God's call. The account of Bezalel and Oholiab has become more meaningful to me in recent years. The name Bezalel means "in the shadow of His wings." It is our nearness to God that enables us to fulfill our callings. I experience this nearness to God most intensely in times of worship. It comes in personal devotions in my office before I begin my work day. It also enters through corporate worship experiences at Church of the Servant, my home church. The enriching seasonal liturgies with songs, prayers, confession, assurance of pardon, proclamation of the Word, and the sacrament of the Eucharist each week confirm my oneness with Christ and His people. It is an awesome responsibility and privilege to make liturgical objects that assist people in their encounter with God. While making this profession of God's nearness, I must also confess experiencing doubt and distraction at a certain point in my life. For six months in 1997, my wife, Coni, and I searched for the right approach and the right surgeon to remove a tumor from the back of her throat. I found it impossible to stay on task. My thoughts were elsewhere in her time of need. Clay, stone, wood, and my ideas about transforming them, suddenly seemed less significant. But God never left us; he was always present. Our brothers and sisters in Christ all over North America, especially our worshiping community at Church of the Servant, prayed for Coni and our family. Finally, the Lord led us to a sur30

geon who, by the grace of God, was able to successfully remove the tumor. With renewed energy and joy, I turned the potter's wheel, carved stone, and sanded wood. God filled my heart and mind with ideas. The "stuff" of God's own handiwork made their significance known to me again. The dialogue between materials and myself was restored with vigor. In gratitude to God for his nearness and the love of His people at the Church of the Servant, I made Pentecost Communion Set I. It was used each Sunday during the Pentecost season. In this work, I consciously made vessels that are large enough to convey the amplitude of God's healing grace for all of those present to see and use. The items are, after all, created for corporate worship. As images, these liturgical vessels boldly point beyond themselves to the body and blood of Christ. I have tried to design them in such a way that they celebrate the materials God has provided. The simplicity of form and surface decoration are intended to keep the viewer from becoming too preoccupied with the object, while encouraging participants to look beyond. I wish you could experience these objects in the settings for which they were designed. Try to imagine them at a large table set for the Lord's meal. Try to hear the congregation singing, "Lift High the Cross," as the choir processes. Listen to the declaration, "The blood of Christ for you," as the pastor holds the chalice high. Imagine the splash of water at baptism, as parents and congregation vow to bring up this child in God's loving covenant. Let us celebrate God's goodness and faithfulness as he calls and equips us to work and worship in His presence.

Carl Huisman is professor of art at Calvin College. During a recent sabbatical project, he explored threedimensional media that would enhance the liturgical drama of communal Reformed Christian worship. For more than thirty years, he has developed his ideas while serving the Calvin College community as a professor of ceramics and sculpture.

Christianity and the Arts

Communion set with crown of thorns, 1997, (pictured with cup and vessel separately and together) and communion set with red lines entitled Pentecost Communion Set I, 1997, stoneware. All pieces by Carl Huisman. Photos by John Corriveau.

Winter 2001

THINGS

VISIBLE

AND

INVISIBLE

On purification and pollution BY jUTTA F. ANDERSON

Washing exemplifies the post-

George modernLangbroek's stance in

theetching visual

arts. Entering into such a work is not easy because of multiple, often unrelated, image fragments. Here, too, the images are discontinuous and layered. Seven scenes are woven into this web of lines and interacting complementary colors. To make things more complex, these anecdotes present themselves in different styles and techniques. We discover photography from mass culture publications transferred to the printer's plate, samples from art history either mechanically reproduced or crudely copied by hand, flat monochrome color fields, the artist's own drawing, and a separate dark band printed on top of the foundational etching. All that variety beckons us to chart our own paths rather than look for prescribed directions. A big, red "Y" shape dominates the composition. Jutting from the l1E;HL of Vi the ll1L baseline's Ud~L1l1H .,. ~ center l..l,l1lLl; the lUl.- "Y" i right sha pe consists of a foot held by a pair of hands. One hand reaches from above the corner on the right side, and the other hand reaches from just below the corner on the left side. We experience the foot as if it were our own, securely held by someone else. We do not observe this action from a distance. Its closeness and the view from above

make this a personal, intimate encounter, totally in our presence. As 32

the saying goes, our foot is in good hands. The arms create a roughly triangular vacuum that is filled with a lacy depiction of Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper (1495-97/98). It is not the much-reproduced mural itself that matters (note the poor quality of its rendition and the lack of color and solidity) but the allusion to its subject matter. Langbroek inserts this most popular "quote" from the history of Western art to suggest a context-the Passover meal as recorded in the thirteenth chapter of the fourth Gospel. John is the only evangelist who incorporates Jesus' washing of the disciples' feet into the narrative. Unlike biblical scholars who tend to discuss the symbolism of Jesus' gesture, Langbroek stays, quite concretely, with the image of washing. He investigates the various applications of cleaning in light of verse 15: "For I have set an example, that you also should do as I have done to you." wc are diC LU touch, LUUl-ll, 11 LC:U1 11 y; our UUi We to literally neighbor's foot, humbly and lovingly, as dirty and smelly as that foot may be. A scene from a long-term care facility comes to mind-affirming Jesus' command-of a son gently massaging the shriveled skin of his elderly mother's feet with a moisturizer. That is service born out of a car-

ing heart. That is also specifically physical comfort to a deteriorating body. In a segment that takes up the

Christianity and the Arts

area to the right of the red Y-shape the artist explores bathing as a relational activity. Here we have a woman and a bouncy toddler clasping his mother's hand. They are stepping in unison into the warmth of a shower stall. This mother and child ritual could be straight out of a parenting magazine. The photographer takes pleasure in the fleshiness of his objects. Sensuous curves outline the woman's body. Whoever selected this sight, whether the photographer or the coordinator of this collage, celebrated the erotic moment. Maybe this image captures a husband's delight in watching his wife at play with their offspring. Some viewers may wonder how such exaltation of the body relates to Jesus' footwashing. Others, citing the Song of Solomon, will argue that we must not hide the erotic, that it is a God-given gift for us to embrace and shelter from violation. For the artist, "do as I have done to you" pertains to marital love also. LU iU<tllL<o11 lUVC:;

Nestled

<011~U.

into the hollow

created

by the arm and the foot on the left side of the print and partly obstructed by the dark overlay, we discern a nude couple, almost dissolved into lines and pools of red, orange, and green. The extreme contrast of light and dark in the original photograph turns this vignette of intimacy into discrete near-abstraction. The man rubs or towels off a woman's back. His stance indicates that he is concerned. The

Washing by George Langbroek, 1992-99, intaglio viscosity etching, 19 x 14 inches

woman is sitting on the floor, clutching her knees. The oval of her arms evokes inwardness and emptiness that is in need for restoration. The cleansing stroke is meant to invigorate a low spirit back to wholeness. Weakness is honored, not exploited. The red segment in the lower left corner barely reveals the interior of a Japanese bathhouse borrowed from an Oriental print. In postmodern fashion, Langbroek includes a nonWestern environment, thus stressing the ethnic diversity of our global village with all its multi-cultural expressions and thus claiming Jesus' command for the Far East, too. Immediately above the sloping border of the red zone, we identify a fully dressed woman who is washing the feet of a sitting nude. Art connoisseurs will recognize Rembrandt's Bathsheba (1654) side reversed and slightly modified. Langbroek chose an incident from the Old Testament (2 Sam.)where a routine act of post-

menstrual cleansing turned into a calamity because of unsolicited outside. intrusion. Through the centuries, painters, mostly male, have used the story of Bathsheba as an excuse to gaze at a female nude, to accentuate her exhibitionism, seductiveness and connivance. Rembrandt's interpretation, however, focuses on the consequences of David's voyeurism and the tragic conflict it caused Bathsheba. She was forced to decide between unfaithfulness to her husband or noncompliance to her king. In this situation of inequality, the person with higher rank exploited the vulnerable one. David betrayed Bathsheba's innocence and polluted the waters of purification. Langbroek, again in a postmodernist vein, is clearly preoccupied with content, that is making reference to the Flemish painter's reading of erotic attraction gone awry. This interest allows him to disregard the exquisite aesthetic value of his predecessor's masterwork. Winter 2001

The blue frieze has an ominous feel to it. In this detail from a World War II document, people are crowded into a narrow place. Jews were ordered to "lay down their garments" (John 13:4) and shower. Instead, they were gassed, resulting in the deaths of millions. This grisly band of perverted purification almost obliterates the tenderness and devotion it camouflages. Seen from this angle, should the Y-shape call forth the cross? While we may lament the absence of coherence in this cluster of diverse appropriated images, we may also be grateful for the absence of premature answers and for the invitation to participate in the search for meaning. Jutta F. Anderson may be reached at P. O. Box 719, Prospect Heights, IL 60070. George Langbroek was born in Holland and now resides at 5 Phi/park Rd., St. Catharines, On., Canada L2N 4E4. 33

BOO

K S: ART

Imaging the

WORD.

LECTIONARY

TREASURES

Reviewed by William Dyrness

Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Volume 3. Susan A. Blain (ed.), Sharon Iverson Gouwens, Catherine O'Callaghan, Grant Spradling, Cleveland: United Church Press,

1996, pp. 280, $34.95 This large format, splendidly produced volume is the third in the series of lectionary resources produced by the Division of Education of the United Church of Christ and is designed to be used in conjunction with their curriculum, The Inviting Word. But since it is based on a year's readings drawn from the Revised Common Lectionary, it could be used by any of the churches that use that lectionary or any church that seeks to follow the Christian Year. There is a useful introduction by Maria Harris that helps the reader reflect on the ways we see or are kept from seeing, in our worship. The purpose of the volume is to provide resources for discerning God in the world, by stimulating the reader's imagination in ways that resonate with the Scripture passages (which are only excerpted). As Maria Harris puts it, breaking out of old visual habits can help us realize that "every place is a sacred place, every moment is filled with the divine pres34

ence." Each week's reading is accompanied by visual art, photographs, movie stills, poems, and excerpts from spiritual writers or even commentators or preachers. Occasionally musical selections are proposed, sometimes traditional melodies. And what an amazing array of artwork and poetry has been assembled here! Just the selection of visual art from around the world is worth the price of the book. Often the juxtapositions are striking, even illuminating-putting Andrew Wyeth's "Christina's World" alongside Psalm 107:4: "Some wandered in desert places" or Salvador Dali's "Girl at the Window" at the beginning of Advent. The poetry, music and reflections are carefully chosen to match the thrust of the readings. The range of selections is broad, reaching back into history and across the world, reminding one of the richness of the visual and intellectual heritage of the church. This is all so useful, and provides elements for so long missing in our (Protestant) worship, that one wishes to temper any criticism. But throughout the book I kept recalling Nicholas Wolterstorff's judgment of the fate of art in our era: to uniquely serve the purposes of contemplation. Occasionally the authors are helpful in providing explanations and contexts for the pictures, such as the moving explanation of Oseola McCarty, a washerwoman who saved $150,000 for scholarships for "the children." But mostly the attribution includes the name and title, nothing more-not even the ethnicity or date (sometimes centuries ago). Often I wanted to know more about this person, and for artists I knew, such as Tadao Tanaka or Frank Wesley, I thought how much it would add to place them in their Japanese or Indian context. Though the images and poems are certainly worth enjoying on their own, they come to us with rich textures that could have done much to enlarge our sympathies and not just our imaginations. But this is only a minor blemish in what is a wonderful project and a resource that Christianity and the Arts

belongs in the repertoire of every worship team. May it stimulate others to undertake similar work of stretching our minds and hearts in worship. Reviewer William A. Dyrness is professor of theology and culture at Fuller Theological Seminary, Pasadena, California. His book Visual Faith: Art, Theology and Worship will be published by Baker in 2001.

CELEBRATION

OF CHRIST

Reviewed by Marci Whitney-Schenck

Saviour: The Life of Christ in Words and Paintings, compiled by Philip Law, Chicago:

Loyola Press,

2000, pp. 96, $19.95 In this delightful compilation of images and word, editor Philip Law has gathered together some of the most memorable reproductions of paintings celebrating Christ's life. The book is divided into four parts: infancy, ministry, passion, and glory. Each of the works of art is paired with an appropriate biblical passage and a writer's meditation, often contrasting the traditional with the contemporary. As an example, Paul Bril (15541626) depicted Christ as a pilgrim with a walking staff on the road to Emmaus. Friedrich von Hugel (18521925) writes the commentary. Unfortunately, this particular writer seemed