An Artist’s View

First Hebrew Scripture Reading—Exodus 35: 30-35

Second Hebrew Scripture Reading—Exodus 37: 1-9

Michelangelo’s fresco on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome is considered one of the greatest works of art in the world.  Yet, what sometimes goes unrecognized is that it was created in rather difficult circumstances.  Michelangelo’s boss was none other than Pope Julius II, who at times could be a bit demanding.  On one occasion, he had Michelangelo brought to him with a rope around his neck in order to seek a pardon.  With his sins then wiped away, Michelangelo was ordered to sculpt a gigantic bronze figure of the pope.  Later, the pope visited Michelangelo as he worked from the top of his scaffold in the Sistine Chapel.  The pope asked when the painting would finally be completed.  To which, Michelangelo responded that he would finish when he could.  For such impertinence, the pope threatened to have him thrown off scaffolding.

To make matters worse, Michelangelo not only had trouble getting paid for his labor in the chapel, he worked in grueling physical conditions.  In a sonnet that he wrote later, Michelangelo describes the physical discomfort he experienced as he painted.  Possibly because of the hot fuming plaster that is produced in the painting of frescos, he compares his sweaty state to that of a sewer cat.  About the odd positioning of his body as he painted the ceiling, he depicts himself as having stood like an archer’s bow with his brain falling backwards in his head, his neck puffed out like a pigeon, his belly hanging like an empty sack, his ribs poking out of his gut, and his posterior sticking out to serve as a counterweight.  For four years, he painted the ceiling like this.  According to one of his contemporaries, for some time after he finished the ceiling, he could only get his eyes to read a document if he held it over his head and looked upward.   Michealangelo probably would have had a good case for workers’ comp.  Despite such adverse circumstances, he nevertheless managed to ultimately find the artistic inspiration for creating a work of art whose beauty has stood the test of time.

    Like Michealangelo, Bezalel was the preeminent artist of his day.  He had an extensive resume and portfolio.  We are told in our first reading that Bezalel was a master of “every kind of craft,” that he worked with gold, silver, and bronze, that he cut and set stones, that he carved wood, that he weaved and embroidered with colorful yarns and linens.  Exodus does not tell us anything about the conditions in which Bezalel worked, but I find it hard to imagine that it was not without its difficulties.  To appreciate this, it helps to think about the religious context in which Bezalel worked.  Perhaps, contrary to our modern notions of God, the Israelites thought of God as dwelling in a specific place, the tabernacle.  Not only that, but they envisioned God as having an actual throne from which to rule.  Our scripture reading calls it the mercy seat.  So as Bezalel worked on the tabernacle’s sacred inner chamber, the holy of holies, he was essentially God’s interior designer.  Talk about a high stress job.  Working for the pope would be bad enough.  Yet, Exodus also tells us that Bezalel was filled with the divine spirit and with a dose of inspiration to teach his helpers.  God gave him the creative spark and the inner resources he needed to get the job done.

    Well, Brooks, that’s interesting, but that was a long time ago in a foreign land.  Give us a more recent example of God’s creative spark and inspiration working amidst difficult conditions.  Ok, let’s fast forward to the 1980s in Philadelphia.  Conditions in the poor neighborhoods of the city were deteriorating.  Urban blight was occurring.  Buildings became neglected, run-down, and abandoned.  Local parks became filled with trash and weeds.  Neighborhoods became marked by physical decay and the visible signs of poverty’s traps.  Yet, in this situation, a creative spark was moving.  Artists began working with the ordinary members of these communities to enlist their ideas for murals.  Community meetings to brainstorm ideas could sometimes be raucous affairs, but eventually through drafts and re-drafts of models presented by the artist to the community, consensus would be reached.  One writer notes that throughout the United States such mural projects “provided an opportunity for thousands upon thousands of ‘just plain folks,’ perhaps for the only time in their lives, to express themselves and have a say in what they wanted to see every day in their neighborhoods.”   

On the cover of your bulletin for today, you can catch a glimpse of the kind of neighborhood transformation that occurs as a result of these murals. 

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The transformation, in this case and others, was more than just that of the physical landscape.  Working on murals frequently gives inspiration to neighborhood members of all ages to begin working together.  Previously isolated and alienated they begin cleaning up nearby parks and public spaces.  About one mural, a local resident says, “Without that mural, we wouldn’t be a community.”   Such successes have been replicated many times over through the work of an organization known as the Mural Arts Program.  Today, there are “over 2,700 murals throughout Philadelphia—more murals than any other city in the world.”
 
    Well, Brooks, that’s wonderful and we appreciate the artwork, but what about us here.  How does God’s creative spark work in our lives as individuals or in our life as a church?  First, I think this past year we have seen how our church is blessed with artistic talent.  We’ve seen it in the artwork shown here on Good Friday, we’ve seen it in the recent Rules of Engagement display, and now we see it the Spiritual Literacy pictures in the Narthex.  In today’s DVD presentation after worship, I think we will discover that we have some great photographers in our church.  Second, while not all of us will be future Michelangelos, I think regardless of one’s artistic skill level, church at its best gives each of us the eye of an artist.  After all, spiritual literacy is about seeing the world in a different way.  It’s about seeing God’s presence and the beauty of God’s creation in the world around us, even when conditions might not always be ideal.  Maybe, like Michelangelo, we have become stuck in a job with a difficult boss, but nevertheless we manage to salvage the situation.  Here and there we manage to let God’s creative spark and inspiration work through us.  We manage to offer the gift of friendship and kindness to others.  We manage to joyfully be of service to others in ways that go beyond simply doing what the job requires.  We might even manage to join with others to seek better treatment in our workplace.
    
Or, possibly, like the muralists in Philadelphia, God’s spark might work through us in another way.  We might become conscious about the effects of poverty in the broader community.  One day we wake up, and there is that little voice of goodness and righteousness in our head that won’t go away no matter how much we try to ignore it.&
nbsp; That little voice compels us to get involved in doing something.  It might be through WHO’s winter shelter program.  It might be through serving meals at the Share House.  It might be through supporting local low-wage workers in their efforts to gain better pay and healthcare.  Or, perhaps, it is through working with others to start a new program that is especially needed in our community.  Maybe Vancouver needs its own mural arts program.

    All of us are given circumstances whether it is in the home, on the job, or in our community where things might not always go as planned, where conditions might be unjust, or where extra burdens are placed upon our backs.  It is then that we have the opportunity to be artists, to improvise with the materials given to us, to allow God’s creative spark and inspiration to move through us, and to find a way to turn what life has dealt us into a winning hand.

    Our church has been blessed with a building and a sanctuary that are works of art in themselves.  In the weeks and months ahead, however, we will be facing some tough decisions about what to do with our skylights and stained glass.  At the moment, I cannot say I know what the answer will be.  I do know one thing, however.  I don’t believe that we need to throw our hands up in the air in complete despair.  I believe that as a church we will find away for God to work through us and turn what might seem like a difficult situation into a golden opportunity.  In order to seize this golden opportunity, however, we might have to first overcome some of our fears.  Similar to the challenges I imagine Bezalel faced, we might have to get a harness on some of our anxieties in order to allow God to enter into our lives.

     I recently had an experience of dealing with some of my own anxieties.  A little over a week ago Eunita and I decided we would go door to door to meet some of our neighbors in the surrounding community.  We were not trying to convert people or anything.  We were just asking them if they had any neighborhood concerns or knew of any ways in which our church could be of service to the community.  Well, going door to door can provoke a few anxieties—like fear of rejection, getting the door slammed in your face as soon as you say you are from a church.  One of the houses we decided to visit was the house right next door to the church.  So, we get there, and I start to walk down the driveway, but Eunita sees the “No Trespassing” sign and says, “No thanks, I will wait back here for you.”  I am a bit nervous, but I go knock on the door anyway.  A gentleman opens the door, and I quickly say, “I hope I don’t count as a trespasser.  I’m actually your neighbor.  I am the pastor of the church next door.”  Just as I brace to flinch in front of a slammed door, the gentleman says, “Well, come on in.”  Much to my delight and Eunita’s dismay as she waited by the road, I then spent a fair amount of time visiting with our neighbor, Mr. Dorsey Schalk.  

Dorsey was great.  He told me about his days of military service in World War II fighting as the only white guy in a combat team of American Indians.  The team was given some of the hardest fighting assignments in the war.  Dorsey also kindly gave me a tour of his living room which is lined with his wood carvings.  He told me how he began carving in a foxhole in New Guinea.  Some of his carvings are on display in the narthex, including his very first carving from that foxhole. A few of the pieces you will find are faces he carved out of scraps of wood that might have once seemed worthless to some.  One was carved from a Douglas Fir burl, a deformed part of the tree.  Another was carved out of a fungus growth.
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When I left Dorsey’s house, I was glad that I was able to get over my initial fears.  If I hadn’t, I would never have met Dorsey and seen his wonderful art.  I would never have realized that God’s creative spark has been moving in Vancouver for years right next to this church.  In the weeks ahead, let us mindfully direct our senses to the richness of life, even when the road might seem difficult, and maybe then, when all is said and done, we might discover that we have much for which we can truly give thanks to God.
Amen.

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