John 1.43-51: By Any Other Name

The Gospel reading for Epiphany 1B (John 1:43-51) offers us a glimpse of one of the lesser-known disciples: Nathanael. In John's gospel, Jesus is in Galilee and calls Philip, who shares a hometown with Peter and Andrew. Philip then meets up with a friend and tells him about Jesus. Nathanael' s response is one of those sentences that has lived long after he spoke the words. Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Jesus (yes, of Nazareth!) then proceeds to impress Nathanael with his knowledge.

And we never hear from Nathanael again.

Sort of.

Nathanael is named only in John's gospel. He is believed to be the disciple called Bartholomew in the other gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. In the other gospels' lists of disciples, Bartholomew is paired with Philip (who is an actor in Nathanael's call story). It may be that Bartholomew is a "son of" construction (remember Peter is Simon son of [bar] Jonah).

Even as Bartholomew, this disciple doesn't get a lot of camera time. He is included in several lists but we don't hear any further stories about him. The episode of Bartholomew's life that captures the most attention is his death. Tradition tells us he was flayed alive in Armenia. When we see him in art, he is usually holding a flaying knife or even his own skin.

Among the most famous depictions is Michelangelo's Bartholomew in the Sistine Chapel's Last Judgement. The artist has put the knife in the disciple's right hand and his skin in the left hand. As an added twist, the face on the skin is purported to be a self-portrait of the artist.

(Left) Michelangelo. Last Judgement (detail). 1533-1541. Sistine Chapel, Vatican. (Right) Calling of Nathanael. Canterbury Cathedral, Canterbury, England.

Depictions of Nathanael are characterized by a fig tree (though sometimes the figs are at a distance and barely visible) and one, two or three men. Because the action in the passage is conversation, there is not particular action, but it is usually depicted as a sunny day with green leaves on the tree and a blue sky.

We have, then, two stories of the probably same person. One that tells the beginning of the story. The other that focuses on the end of the story. In between there is some unknown, some mystery. Which name, and which story, do you think this disciple would find most meaningful?

This week on Facebook...the last verse of the Gospel reading offers a connection to a story from Hebrew scripture. Click here or on the link below to read more.

For other thoughts on the Epiphany 1B reading, click here.

Genesis 25.19-34: Bowl for Birthright: A Tale of Opposites

The birth of two nations is the reading from Hebrew scripture for Proper 10/Pentecost 6A. Genesis 25:19-34 tells of the birth and early lives of brothers - twins - Jacob and Esau. They are the sons of Isaac and Rebekah and the grandsons of Abraham and Sarah. They were different from each other - one outdoorsy and the other preferred the indoors. Each parent had a favored child. The story can't possibly be without conflict.

And indeed the conflict begins at birth and doesn't end until much  later in the twins' lives. Along the way is the episode featured here. Esau comes in from the fields and is quite hungry. Jacob has been staying close to the farm and has cooked up a stew. And Esau says he is s-t-a-r-v-i-n-g.

Jacob can help. All Esau has to do is give up his birthright. Pinkie swear.

Hendrick ter Brugghen has painted that moment. In his Caravaggesque style (to oversimplify, that means strong lights and darks) he shows the two brothers in the foreground, a table of food between them. In the background are the two parents, each standing behind their favored child. Rebekah, whose face is between the two boys, holds a plate, making things ready for her favorite, Jacob. Isaac, who will be blind, sits almost invisible in the darkness at the right. The depth of the picture space is stopped by the canvas tent wall. All the action is in front of the tent wall.

Hendrick ter Brugghen. Esau Selling His Birthright. c. 1627. Oil on canvas. Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid.

https://www.museothyssen.org/en/collection/artists/brugghen-hendrick-ter/esau-selling-his-birthright

The artist's use of light focuses attention in the composition's center. The two boys' hands are expressively drawn. The right hand of each is in almost the same position. The left hand of each holds characteristic objects: Jacob the bowl of soup and Esau the wooden handle of a tool. The two boys are even wearing complementary colors: Jacob in red and Esau in a shade of green.

We know from the story that the deal is made and fulfills the prophecy that the older brother would indeed serve the younger. Generations of this family will be impacted by this deal, but ter Brugghen narrows an epic story to a single moment. The exchange of bowl for birthright.

Art&Faith Matters has other posts that relate to this week's Gospel reading and an additional post mentioning Jacob and Esau. This week's Facebook post looks at the very beginning of this story...in a somewhat unusual illustration. Click on the Facebook link below.

Wrestling

For such a physical struggle – all night, you may remember – many depictions of Genesis 32:22-31 are remarkably unphysical. For all it appears in those works, Jacob might be dancing with his mysterious opponent. In at least one version (Rembrandt, 1659, Gemaldegalerie) it looks like God's messenger is about to “dip” his dance partner. But the text recounts a physical endurance contest between two determined opponents.

The painting by Leon Joseph Florentin Bonnat (c. 1876), below, captures the physical nature of the struggle as each wrestler refuses to let go of the other. Details are dropped out. The color palette is limited. Judging by the sky blue background, the time of day does not appear to be deepest night. Perhaps dawn is breaking and this is the final moment of the match. With an indistinct setting, the emphasis is on the push and pull between the two figures. The two are distinguished by the paint's value – one lighter, the other darker, though the darker figure of Jacob has the same light highlights as the angel, and the underside of the angel's wings are the same tonal family as Jacob's skin.

At the moment captured by the painting, Jacob appears to be lifting the angel off the ground. There seems to be a pointed toe desperately trying to remain connected to the earth. You may remember the story of Hercules and Antaeus. And though Jacob would not be familiar with the story, surely the artist was. In the ancient story, Antaeus, a Libyan giant, requires all people passing through his country to wrestle with him. Hercules gains the advantage in the contest of strength and wills by lifting the giant from the earth, which is the source of Antaeus' grounding and power. It seems counter-intuitive, though, that God's wrestler would be determined to remain connected to the earth.

A video clip of the story places the two wrestlers in a different relationship. In this contemporary version, the angel hovers above the earth with Jacob grasping at legs and hem, trying to keep the angel within his grasp. Jacob is clearly in a weaker position here, but he remains determined to hold on. A still is below. The entire video clip is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQWsfBzeEkM

Perhaps both artists understood Jacob's character and that if there was an advantage to be gained, Jacob was determined to gain it. I will not let you go until you bless me. And so there is blessing...and a limp. Though Jacob is blessed with a new name rooted in a relationship with God, the conclusion is still on God's terms.

He Put It Under His Head

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place (Proper 11(16)A, Pentecost 7A). Jacob's choice has echoed since he put his head on the pillow.

One of those echoes involved Irish monks. We are used to associating stone crosses and stone buildings with Celtic monks of the 8th - 10th centuries. But Jacob's story, too, brought stone into the monastic life. We hear of a specific instance from Adomnan, biographer of Columba. In his Vita Columbae he writes: Having written the aforementioned verse at the end of the page, the saint went to the church to the nocturnal vigils of the Lord's Day; and so soon as this was over, he returned to his chamber, and spent the remainder of the night on his bed, where he had a bare flag for his couch, and for his pillow a stone, which stands to this day as a kind of monument beside his grave (VG.3.23).

The biography was written about a century after Columba's death, but even then the story of Columba and his stone pillow was part of the saint's story. Columba was not the only monk to use a stone for a pillow. Some stones were carved with a cross, identifying them as more than purely natural stones. The stone shown below was found on the Shiant Islands, off the west coast of Scotland. Discovered during the excavation of a blackhouse on Eilean an Tighe, the stone is thought to date from between the seventh and tenth centuries.

It's easy to imagine a monk lying down at night, thinking of Jacob and his remarkable dream. As they drifted off to sleep they could look forward to the possibility that in sleep, they, too, would see God's messengers moving freely between heaven and earth. And when that happened they would know that indeed they were standing at the gate of heaven.

You can read about the pillow-stone shown below (which looks remarkably like a round loaf of bread), and its discovery, in Adam Nicolson's book Sea Room: An Island Life in the Hebrides (Harper Perennial, 2007). 

http://www.shiantisles.net/hist_arc/photos/phot14.htm

The gospel reading for this week is Jesus' parable of the wheat and weeds. Art&Faith Matters explores that parable here.