Genesis 11.1-9: Talk and Tools

You might even have been able to hear them singing as they were building:

The more we get together, together, together

The more we get together the happier we'll be

But not everyone was happier with everybody getting together to build a tower to heaven. So language was confused (Genesis 11:1-9). No one could understand each other any more and building slowed. Slowed. And ultimately stopped. The tower was left to the ravages of time as surely as Ozymandias' vast and trunkless legs. Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair! Perhaps the tower builders didn't know the story of Adam and Eve, whose lives were changed when they sought to be like God. Perhaps they knew but believed that their story would be different. 

Perhaps that's just human nature - to want to leave works and legacies and reminders that you walked the earth. That you were here. Pieter Bruegel saw the tendency in 16th-century Antwerp (Belgium). He paired the commercial development and urban sprawl of Antwerp with the Biblical story of the tower of Babel. 

The artist was commissioned to create several documentary paintings of the construction of a canal in Antwerp, so he put his learnings about construction to work in this large composition (approximately 45" x 61"). On the tower you'll see workers pulling boards up by ropes, horses pulling sleds piled with bags of something, workshops for creating building materials and tools, stonecarvers picking away at rock, ladders leaning against walls and boards spanning chasms.

The tower is based at least in part on the Colosseum in Rome, which at the time Bruegel painted was an abandoned and weed-covered ruin. Bruegel was making the point that what the Romans considered a masterpiece of engineering and architecture was now nothing to brag about. Perhaps the same fate awaited Antwerp's great plans for building and expansion. 

Pieter Bruegel. Tower of Babel. 1563. Vienna: Kunsthistoriches Museum. 
Google Art Project allows a really close zoom onto the details of this painting. Click here.

At the lower left, Nimrod has come to check the progress of his tower. Some of the stone cutters have stopped their work, bowing down to the king. One of the cutters has abandoned his tools on top of the stone on which he was working. But he has left the handle of the hammer and several of the spikes facing toward us. All we have to do is walk into the picture, pick up our tools, and help build this remarkable tower. 

Should we? Should we have walked in and picked up those tools if we were in the Biblical story? Should we have done that if we lived in Bruegel's 16th-century Antwerp? What about now? Should we pick up those tools and go to work with people we may not understand? Human language is never unconfused. The miracle of Pentecost isn't one of speech. It's one of hearing: each one heard their own language (Acts 2:6). The Holy Spirit facilitated hearing. The problem of communication remains.

Bruegel created a second (larger!) version of this subject. Look at Art&Faith Matters on Facebook to see what differences you can see.

For additional thoughts on Pentecost, click here, here, here, or here.

Cultural aside: Is it just me...or does the Bruegel painting look more than a little like Minas Tirith in the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings movies? The source of that structure is supposedly Mont St. Michel, but it feels at least a little bit Bruegel to me. 

Micah 5.2-5a: O Little Town of Antwerp

The prophet Micah points to Bethlehem as the place of origin of the one who will rule Israel (Micah 5:2-5a). When Micah is quoted in Matthew's gospel the description includes the clarification that though Bethlehem is small, it is "by no means least" among the tribes. By no means least, because from Bethlehem - the city of David - would come greatness. In fact, the path of God's saving plan will go right through Bethlehem. Which for Pieter Bruegel looks an awful lot like a 16th-century village in Flanders. The architecture, clothing, activities, and landscape transport us immediately to the artist's time.

The Census at Bethlehem shows a small town filled with people and activity in the middle of winter. People have returned to Bethlehem to be counted, and people who live in Bethlehem are going on about their daily lives. Firewood is being unloaded from a cart. A pig is being slaughtered. Children are skating on the frozen pond. Snowball fights are going on. People gather around an outdoor fire and stand in line outside a pub. In all the activity, you might miss the man with his carpenter's saw leading a donkey on which a woman in blue is riding.

Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The Numbering at Bethlehem. Brussels: Musee Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique. 1566.

But that man and woman are the most important part of the picture. They are the means by which the salvation of the world will come from Bethlehem. And for Bruegel, the world that needs saving isn't just first-century Palestine. Bruegel includes details that echo the biblical story but are his contemporary experience. Though the painting refers to Luke's idea of a census or "numbering" bringing people to Bethlehem, there is in fact a tax collection going on at the window of the building on the left.

The collection of taxes by an occupying government was a familiar sight to Bruegel. At the time this picture was painted, Spain controlled the Netherlands. The Hapsburg kings who reigned in Spain levied heavy taxes not just on individuals but on the textile industry and on cities in the Netherlands in order to pay for Spain's ongoing wars. In Bruegel's painting the tax collector has hung out a sign with the double-headed eagle that was the emblem of the Hapsburg empire (detail above).

In addition to the contentious economic relationship between the Netherlands and Spain, there were also religious clashes between Roman Catholic Spain and an increasingly Protestant Netherlands. Philip II sent the Duke of Alva to the Netherlands to put down the religious rebellion. The Duke is said to have boasted that more than 18,000 Dutchmen died on the scaffold at his direction. Later estimates put the number of executions at 6,000. In a letter to his sister, Margaret of Parma, Philip II said that he would give up 100,000 lives (if he had them) to prevent the Protestant heresy from taking hold in the Netherlands (15 July 1562). In 1566 Bruegel painted a companion piece to the Numbering - Massacre of the Innocents - set in the same Flemish Bethlehem.

The Bethlehem of scripture was the same as Bruegel's village: no grand cosmopolitan place but a small town of ordinary people trying to live their ordinary lives while at the mercy of a government that controlled their lives. Nevertheless, the prophet assured Bethlehem that greatness was to come from her. And so it did. Do you live in Bethlehem?

For a poem that relates to this Bruegel painting, see this week's Art&Faith Matters post here.
For thoughts on Luke 1:39-45, click here.

Proverbs 22.1-23: Words of Wisdom

The reading from Hebrew scripture for Proper 18B/Ordinary 23B/Pentecost 15 is a collection of two-liners from Proverbs (22:1-23, more or less). Pithy sayings transmit what reads like common sense: The clever see danger and hide, but the simple go on and suffer for it.  Many of the sayings have to do with poverty and wealth, though there is no stated theme for the passage. There is also no extensive attempt at narrative or transition between sayings.

Pieter Brueghel, a painter of the Northern Renaissance, created a painting that echoes the format of the Proverbs passage. Snippets of wisdom are illustrated and packed into a single frame. There really isn't any attempt to create a narrative that moves through the picture. Rather he simply embodies Netherlandish proverbs and packs as many as he can into a single canvas.

Pieter Bruegel (the Elder). Netherlandish Proverbs. 1559. Gemaldegalerie, Staatlichen Museen, Berlin. Oil on oak panel. 

For the Gemaldegalerie, see: http://www.smb.museum/en/museums-and-institutions/gemaeldegalerie/home.html

At the center of the canvas, under the porch, people confess to the devil. Atop a tower in the center top a man waves a cloak in order to know where the wind is coming from. In the lower left a man who is (literally) armed to the teeth tries to bell a cat. In the upper left window, the future is determined by the fall of the cards. In one of the dormer windows are two fools under one hood. In the lower right a man tries - but is ultimately unable - to spoon up spilled porridge, a version of the contemporary idea of not crying over spilled milk or being unable to put the toothpaste back in the tube. More than 100 proverbs are illustrated in the painting. 

All these proverbs in one place illustrate, according to Bruegel, a world turned upside down. And the artist has illustrated that as well. There are cross-topped orbs throughout the picture. The cross and orb symbolize the triumph of Christian faith over all the earth. For Bruegel's audience it would have seemed that Christ's triumph would have restored order to the world. Here, though, the orb-and-cross seems more ironic than anything else. In the lower right part of the picture Jesus sits on a chair (a throne?) with an orb in his lap. But even as he holds the symbol of triumph, he faces a monk who has put a fake blond beard on him. At the bottom center a man crawls inside a transparent orb through a hole in its base. And under the window at the left of the picture, the orb is upside down; the cross dangles beneath the orb. For Bruegel this is a topsy-turvy world...a world turned upside down because of the foolishness of humanity.

Restraining the foolishness of humanity is a goal of the Proverbs texts.