Advent 4B: A House in Ruins

Jesus is born in Bethlehem because Joseph was of the house and lineage of David. Bethlehem is where King David was born and grew up, so it became known as the city of David.  The idea of "house" here has to do with family, similar to the "house" reference in Luke 1:33 (He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end). In 2 Samuel 7, though, "house" really does refer to a structure. Famously, David announced that he would build God a house. Then in a conversation reminiscent of "Who's on First?" God and David have a conversation about house (building) and house (dynasty). Ultimately, of course, it is David's son Solomon who builds God a house (building). Through Joseph, Jesus is born into a family and in a structure - both the house of David and a house in Bethlehem. But what kind of house? 

When you picture a nativity scene, how do you imagine the structure? Barn, shed, lean-to, cave? It has been imagined in all those ways. Artists use the structures of their own time and place as the setting for the birth of Jesus. Which means that Martin Schongauer puts the nativity under a Gothic arch and vault (below).

Schongauer, Martin. The Nativity. c. 1470-75. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art.

Despite the variety of architectural styles, however, the artists of many historical images paint the stable, shed, cathedral, etc., as a ruin. The ruins symbolize humanity in need of redemption. The ruin is the state of the world. This child Jesus, a new thing, comes to us in the midst of life that falls apart, that decays. We may even hear an echo of Jesus' misunderstood (at the time) comment about the temple that he would rebuild in three days (John 2:19). The ruined building may also remind us of Jesus' comment that one day not one stone would be left atop another in the temple complex. (Matthew 24:2; Mark 13:2). 

Do contemporary artists include the ruined house? Does such an inclusion make the work stronger in terms of how it shares the meaning of Christ's birth? Does the ruin detract from the action of the story. Do you have a preference as to whether Jesus is born in(to) a ruin or not? It's another detail to look for on the Christmas cards you give and receive and the art that you consider this time of year. 

Psalm 13: Singing the Psalms

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and answer me, O LORD my God! Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death, and my enemy will say, "I have prevailed"; my foes will rejoice because I am shaken. But I trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me. (Psalm 13)

Psalm 13 is a painful song. It is the cry of one who feels abandoned by God, whose enemies are gloating, who demands action from God. The psalm is attributed to David. Do an internet image search using terms like "David playing harp" or "David psalmist." Often we see a figure (sometimes David the shepherd, sometimes David the king) sitting with a harp on his lap,his fingers on or near the strings. Sometimes David is shown with eyes cast upward. As you consider the images in your search results, do the images look like David was playing Psalm 13? Do any of the images convey the emotion you imagine psalm 13 might evoke? Certainly a performer need not be externally emotional in order to convey the meaning of the song, and perhaps David's gaze upward in indicative of a song addressed to God. Do the general images of David the psalmist convey the range of emotions found in the psalms?

Oswaldo Guayasamin was born in Quito, Ecuador, in 1919. His work titled "The Cry" seems to better capture the emotion of Psalm 13. This is not a calm, still, muted emotion. This is a cry that involves mouth and face and eyes and hands and head. How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? We can almost imagine the triptych as three stills from a movie clip following the facial expressions of the one crying out.

Oswaldo Guayasamin. El Grito (The Cry). 1983. Oil on canvas. Quito, Ecuador: Fundacion Guayasamin.

How often do we deny the emotion of texts like Psalm 13? Do we read them in a calm, neutral voice? Do we read this psalm with the same tone as we might read the creation story? Or the 23rd psalm? Psalm 13 gives us the opportunity to cry out to God honestly, to question God honestly, to beg (or demand?) that God show up. In the psalms we find a wide range of human emotions.

Sometimes those emotions are whispered in the middle of the night: How long, O Lord? Sometimes the words must be shouted so everyone can hear: How long, O Lord?!  The singer determines the tone and tempo of the song.

2 Samuel 18: A Recycled Story.

Absalom's fate is foreshadowed in I Samuel 18:8. The fighting is taking place in the forest of Ephraim. The narrator comments that the forest claimed more victims than the fighting. Sure enough, Absalom's hair is caught in the branches of a tree, allowing Joab and his soldiers to overtake him.

Like many biblical stories (including this one), Absalom has been appropriated for circumstances far beyond David's life in Israel. The embroidery below sets Absalom, Joab and David in pre-Revolutionary America.

Faith Robinson Trumbull (attrib.). The Hanging of Absalom. c. 1770. Silk and metal thread on black satin. 

New London, CT: Lyman Allyn Art Museum.

Rather than being the caring-then-distraught father, David (symbolizing King George III) is here the unseeing king, sitting in his palace playing his harp with no regard for what the people outside the palace (in the colonies) are suffering. Absalom is in the middle of the composition, indeed caught by his hair, his feet off the ground. Joab, David's commander in the scripture story, is wearing the uniform of a British redcoat. Absalom is the patriot, rebelling against an unfeeling monarch. 

The piece is believed to have been created soon after the Boston Massacre. On March 5, 1770, a British soldier was attacked by a mob in Boston. What started as a street altercation ended with the death of five American colonists at the hands of British soldiers. The creator of the piece - or at least the one to whom it is attributed is Faith Robinson Trumbull, wife of Jonathan Trumbull (Colonial Governor of CT) and mother of artist John Trumbull. 

The images of Absalom hanging from a tree can be disturbing, especially in light of the racial terrorist practice of lynching. This week on Art&Faith Matters on Facebook: a link to the National Memorial for Peace and Justice.

2 Samuel 11.26 - 12.13: David Has Slain...Two

"Saul has killed his thousands, and David his ten thousands." So sang the women as they danced and celebrated David (1 Samuel 18:7). A Renaissance manuscript and this reading from Hebrew scripture (2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a) help us focus on two of the tens of thousands. One is David's most famous instance of killing. The other his most infamous.

It is David's orchestration of Uriah's death that sets in motion the events in the text, which begins with the announcement of his death to David and then to Uriah's wife Bathsheba. She mourns for him, but when the mourning is done, David brings her into the palace as his wife. And Uriah is seemingly forgotten.

Clovio has chosen to imagine a moment after Uriah has been killed. Here he lies on the ground, nude, his horse, perhaps injured(?), beside him. The other soldiers have pulled back, leaving Uriah visible on the ground. David's plan has succeeded. Uriah is dead. David has slain this one.

Giulio Clovio. Farnese Hours (Folio 63v). 1546. NY: Morgan Library.

In the oval grisaille vignette below the central scene, David raises his sword to cut off the head of Goliath. The figure to the left of the central scene is David, wearing a helmet and some kind of armor. In his right hand he holds the severed head of Goliath. To the right of the central scene is David, slightly draped, carrying the sling in his left hand. Three of the four sections of the page are of David's triumphal, almost salvific killing of Goliath. But the central scene is one showing a David who seems hardly a man after God's own heart. The David whose faith in God made the impossible possible seems completely gone.

Nathan seems to think so, too. He calls David to account. Not for the thousands but for the one. 

This week on Art&Faith Matters on Facebook, considering Bathsheba.

2 Samuel 11.1-15: The Spring of the Year

They really do that? That was my response when I read my nephew's undergrad thesis. I had read 2 Samuel 11 before (Proper 12(17)/Pentecost +10), but the thesis confirmed it. It's right at the beginning of the text. In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle. They really do that. And Americans have in our historic conscious (at least if you were in school around the time I was) an episode that helps illuminate that opening sentence in Hebrew scripture.

Do you know the building in the photo above? Any idea what it is? How about the one below? Any clues?

Does this painting help? Probably.

William T. Trego. The March to Valley Forge. 1883. Philadelphia, PA: Museum of the American Revolution.

We usually refer to it as just "Valley Forge." The winter that George Washington spent at Valley Forge, the Continental Army was in what was called Winter Quarters. According to my favorite historians, it was traditional to stop fighting in late October because the weather got worse. Some soldiers wound up doing low level operations such as raids and foraging for supplies, but for the most part the armies dispersed into winter quarters. Washington led his troops into winter quarters on December 19, 1777. William Trego imagined the scene as you see it above. The winter would not improve.

Around mid-April, after the spring rains died down, armies would come back out to resume their fight. In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle...

Yes, they really do that. 

For thoughts on John 6:1-21, click here.

2 Samuel 1.1, 17-27: Killed in Action

David takes time to lament. To grieve for the fallen Saul and his son (and David's friend) Jonathan [2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27, Proper 8 (13)/Pentecost 6B]. Though David is not yet king, the favor of the Lord has fallen on him. So he takes time to lament. To grieve for Saul, who in life tried to kill David more than once. (Think about that...David mourned for the man who was more than once his enemy because that man was part of God's plan.) David addresses Jonathan in his grief. David reminds hearers of the father-son relationship that bound Saul and Jonathan together. But the root of David's lament is grief. A grief that he feels personally and instructs the nation to share.

The news of Saul and Jonathan's death comes to David from the Amalekite who ended Saul's life. When his sons fall in battle, Saul realizes that the fight cannot be won. He falls on his sword but is still alive, so he asks a young Amalekite fighter to end it. The Amalekite does, removing Saul's crown and armlet and taking it to David. David puts the Amalekite fighter to death for killing God's anointed and then begins the lament that forms the reading for this week.

David's bodily reaction to the news that the king and his sons have been killed in battle is to tear his clothing and speak the lament. German artist Kathe Kollwitz offers a different physical reaction to such news. Her print "Killed in Action" shows the reaction of a woman surrounded by her children. She covers her whole head with her hands as if to shut out the news. The children who surround her are probably not even part of her consciousness.

Kathe Kollwitz. Killed in Action. 1920. Lithograph. NY: Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Kollwitz knew this feeling firsthand. Her son Peter was a volunteer in the German Army. He was killed in Belgium in 1914. Her grandson, also named Peter, was killed in Russia in 1943.

Kollwitz used a similar pose in a sculptural piece she began after the death of fellow artist Ernst Barlach. Titled "Lamentation", the relief sculpture reflects her feelings of the loss of an artist she admired. The works of both Barlach and Kollwitz were categorized as "degenerate" by the Nazi government. Barlach died of heart failure after he was forced to resign from the art academies and was forbidden to work as a sculptor. In Kollwitz's work, the left hand covers the left side of the face while the right hand covers the mouth. We see part of the face, enough to know that even the visible  eye is closed as if to shut out the news.

Kathe Kollwitz. Lamentation: In Memory of Ernst Barlach. 1938/cast later. Washington, DC: Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution.

Perhaps David's more outward-moving physical reaction can be understood as a manifestation of his public role. He must lead the nation in mourning. Kollwitz speaks for herself in these two works, telling the world that the news of the death of family and friends is unspeakable, unseeable. It isn't just the mighty who are mourned when they fall.

For thoughts on the gospel reading (Mark 5.21-43), click here. 

For thoughts of other "mighty" things that fall, see Art&Faith Matters on Facebook. Click here.

Acts 4.5-12: Rejected

If it isn't the most famous sculpture in the world, it certainly makes everyone's Top Ten lists. And it perfectly exemplifies Peter's sermon example in Acts 4:5-12 (Easter 4B). Between 1501 and 1504, Michelangelo Buonarotti carved a standing male nude from a solid block of marble that had been quarried more than a quarter of a century before Michelangelo ever picked up a chisel.

Michelangelo. David. 1501-1504. Marble. Florence: Galleria dell'Accademia.

David stands just under 17 feet tall and weighs more than 12,000 pounds - that's 6 tons! The story of the work we see today is a long and twisting one. The original commission was for a series of large statues for upper niches on the Florence Cathedral (Italy). The statues would have been more than 200 feet above the ground. The original sculptor was Agostino di Duccio. He began work in 1464 (that's half a century before Michelangelo) but left the project after only very basic beginnings.

A decade or so later, the commission was taken up by Antonio Rossellino. He, too, made only beginning marks before abandoning the project.

What was the problem? We know that Rossellino complained about the quality of the marble. The block, quarried in Carrarra, had too many taroli - too many imperfections. The imperfections may have created weaknesses that followed veining, fault lines that could have caused the ruin of the sculpture. Modern scientific studies have confirmed that the marble is of mediocre quality.

So the block was rejected. The barely-begun David lay on his back in the courtyard of the Duomo's workshop. It was exposed to the elements for more than 25 years.

Then, in 1501, a 26-year-old sculptor began work on the project. The quarried block had been lying on its back since the sculptor was only a year old. He was given two years to complete the commission. He finished in 1504.

The finished piece was too heavy (6 tons!) to be put in the originally-intended niche, so it was placed at the entrance of the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence. In 1873 was moved indoors to its current site at the Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence. A replica was put at the original site.

If it isn't the most famous sculpture in the world, it certainly makes everyone's Top Ten lists. The stone that the sculptors rejected has become...well, if not the cornerstone, at least a centerpiece in the history of sculpture.

This week on Art&Faith Matters' Facebook page, read between the lines of Psalm 23. Click on this link.

For thoughts on John 10:11-18, click here.

2 Samuel 7.1-11, 16: Building or Growing

David wants to build a house for God. After all, God's people are settled in their land. God - who tabernacled with the people in the wilderness - should get to settle down, too. That's where we find ourselves in the reading from Hebrew scripture for Advent 3B (2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16). The "Who's on First" nature of the conversation reveals two different approaches to establishing a house.

David intends to build God a house. A grand temple. A cathedral. Ultimately his son will be the one to do that, but David has the intention. Bricks, mortar, stone, doors, doorposts, a roof. David wants to construct a building appropriate for the God of creation. It's how humans think.

God has a different thought. God will create the house of David through growth - children, grandchildren, and, ultimately, a baby born to Mary and her husband Joseph (who was of the house and lineage of David).

The ultimately-constructed house for God is a visual for another day. The house of David that is grown by God finds familiar form in the Advent season: the Jesse Tree. Jesse, the father of David is usually depicted at the root of the tree (see Isaiah 11:1...A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots). On the Jesse Tree are images or symbols of the descendants of David, who are also the ancestors of Jesus: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Habakkuk. The Jesse Tree also looks back to earlier Biblical characters: Moses, Ruth, Gideon, Noah, Rahab.


Shown here are two different artistic visions of the Tree of Jesse. The top image is a 12th-century stained glass window at Chartres Cathedral in France. Jesse is at the root with a series of humans sit on the trunk of the tree (like Zacchaeus, maybe?), proceeding in an orderly fashion up to Jesus who sits at the top of the tree with a dove descending on his head. The tree shape is reminiscent of a pine or palm or other tree with a straight trunk and less emphasis on branches. No doubt the design was influenced by the space available in the lancet window of the Gothic cathedral.

The bottom image is a Netherlandish one attributed to the circle of artist Geertgen tot Sint Jans dated c. 1500. Jesus' ancestors are perched on tree branches in a variety of poses: kneeling, standing, ankles crossed, with a falcon on one arm. The figures are dressed in striped hose and embroidered tunics that probably have more in common with the kings of Geertgen's day than with those of Jesus' or David's day. The top of Geertgen's tree is crowned with a blond Mary holding a blond baby Jesus on her lap.

"I will make you a house," David says to God.
"No," God says, "I will make you a house."
David would have built.
God chose to grow.

For Chartres Cathedral, click here. For the circle of Geertgen Tree of Jesse (Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum), click here.

For another architectural element that links the ideas of buildings and David and the infant Christ, see this week's Art&Faith Matters Facebook page. 

For thoughts on the Gospel reading for Advent 3B (Luke 1:26-38), click here.

Is Today "The Day"?

"The days are surely coming" we read in Jeremiah on Advent 1C (Jeremiah 33:1-4). And on "the day" no one will mistake it, according to Luke's gospel (Luke 21:25-36). There will be signs in the heavens, in the stars, in the moon. Luke's gospel says that when we hear of such cosmic events they should remind us that Jesus is returning. We should stand up and lift up our heads.

Luca Signorelli depicted "the day", but his imagining of the events probably won't make anyone want to lift up their heads. Instead, stars fall from the sky and go pale; fires and earthquakes shake the earth. The painting is half of a lunette and doorway fresco titled Finimondo (the end of the world). This is the right side of the door, and while the heavens fall apart at the top of the composition, at the bottom stand two witnesses to the event: King David (wearing a turban) and a sibyl (holding an open book).

Luca Signorelli. Finimondo. 1499-1502. Chapel of San Brizio, Orvieto Cathedral. Orvieto, Italy.

For Chapel of San Brizio, see: http://www.opsm.it/duomo/duomo/019_1.html

These two witnesses are mentioned in the "Dies Irae" (literally "day of wrath"), a Latin hymn written c. 13th century. The first verse says: The day of wrath, that day/Will dissolve the world in ashes/As foretold by David and the Sibyl. Sibyls (the Greek word sibylla means prophetess) were women of Greco-Roman origin who prophesied at sacred sites under the influence of a deity. This sibyl, it seems, wrote The Laetabundus (literally, Joy Abounding), the liturgical sequence that is part of the Mass for Christmas and Epiphany. These figures, two non-Christian figures interestingly, witness to "the day". The one that is surely coming.

In every age people have seen signs in the heavens. They have seen wars and heard rumors of wars. They have remembered Jesus' words and know that it could happen at any time. Any day, any year could be the "the day" and "the year" of Jesus' return. Will the day catch us unexpectedly? Maybe this Advent is the time for us to stand up and lift up our heads.

It could be at any time. See how time and the signs of the sun, moon and stars, intersects in technology on the Art&Faith Matters Facebook page. 

For additional thoughts on Jeremiah 33:14-16, click here.

2 Samuel 7.1-16: What Kind of House?

I'll make you a house. No, I'll make you a house. No, I'll make YOU a house. That's the gist of the conversation between God and David in the reading from Hebrew scripture (2 Samuel 7:1-16, Proper 11B/Ordinary 16B/Pentecost 8). Ultimately it is David's descendant who will build a temple for God and the people, and it is David whose descendants will be made into a house.

The desire for a house, a real brick-and-mortar house is a human thing. The human need for the concrete is probably one reason for the incarnation. Jesus is God who becomes flesh and tabernacles among us. All well and good for Jesus, a descendant of David, but David really wanted God to have something more permanent than a tabernacle. David wanted God to have a house at least as impressive as David's own.

There is a fractured version of an old saying that says "People who live in glass houses shouldn't stow thrones." It's true. That was going to be a concern for David - stowing a throne, that is. The throne promised to his "house". The Lord promised David a house, though not exactly the kind he originally envisioned, and David will learn to be OK with that. It's almost as if he knew Psalm 127:1: "Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain."

David's wasn't a glass house, but care is required for any kind of house, maybe especially the kind of house made of fragile, fallible human beings. And who should we trust more than God to build fragile, fallible beings into a house?

Tony Cragg. Clear Glass Stack. 1999. Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamacki, Auckland, New Zealand. 

For thoughts on Mark 6:30-34, 53-56, click here.

2 Samuel 6.1-19: Except Everyone is Watching

David sounds graceful in the lectionary reading for Proper 10B/Ordinary 15B/Pentecost 7 (2 Samuel 6:1-19). He dances before the Lord with all his might. But a quick image search of "David dance ark" reveals that there might have been a whole lotta awkward going on.

 These Davids are no Misty Copeland.

But I suspect that both David and Misty Copeland understand what dance legend Martha Graham is credited with saying, "Great dancers aren't great because of their technique. They are great because of their passion." That certainly does not downplay the tremendous dedication to study and technique required of Copeland and all professional dancers. Instead it understands that technique is not enough. There must be passion, determination, drive, desire. It is in the additional ingredients that lies the difference between stellar technique and the ability to soar.

Motivational posters tell us to "Dance like no one is watching". But everyone was watching David, and someone is watching us. That someone is God. Who understands that Misty Copeland helps us experience things that we cannot do for ourselves. God does not expect each of us to dance like Misty Copeland (thank goodness!), but God does want us to dance in whatever awkward way we might dance. We might be better helped this week by abstract images and images implying movement that might cover up those awkward stop-action moments for many of us.

Photographer Shinichi Maruyama created time-lapse photographs of dancers that captures the movement, and perhaps a bit of how it feels to dance, remembering that it only matters that God is watching. So dance with all your might before the Lord.

For additional images in this series, see: http://www.shinichimaruyama.com/

A thought-provoking change of setting for the story of David's dance. Click on the Art&Faith Matters Facebook link here to see what this is. 

For thoughts on Mark 6:14-29, click here.

I Samuel 17: Already Equipped

David and Goliath. It's one of the Biblical references that has entered secular culture. A smaller business takes on a corporate giant...David and Goliath. An unranked sports team enters the athletic arena against a national championship team...David and Goliath. A handful of protesters halt production at a manufacturing facility...David and Goliath. There is no shortage of images depicting the lectionary reading from Hebrew scripture for Proper 7B/Ordinary 12B/Pentecost 4 (I Samuel 17).

Usually it is the battle between the shepherd and the giant that speaks to artists. Hulking giants that make the shepherd seem frail by comparison. The giant in a stone-assisted face plant. The sword that is ultimately the instrument of death for its owner. The Art&Faith Matters Facebook page will highlight some of those this week.

But there are other parts of the story, and one episode in particular offers us insight that may be especially helpful in our own times, when more and bigger seem to be considered better. In verses 38 and 39 Saul tries to give David his armor. The armor has protected Saul, has brought him victory, has given him an edge in battle. He wants to share that with this shepherd who has agreed to face Goliath on behalf of the nation. So David tries. He puts on the helmet and sword and other pieces.

Folio 28r. Morgan Bible (Paris, France). 1240s. Morgan Library, NYC. http://www.themorgan.org/collection/crusader-bible/55. 

The progression of the story is told in the page of the Morgan Bible above. In the upper left David volunteers to face Goliath. In the upper right, David is given Saul's armor, including his helmet. It fits surprisingly well in the picture, given that Saul is almost twice David's height. But in the end, the armor is just too much. David isn't used to it. So he takes it off. And that may be the most humorous illustration.

David may one day be the greatest king of Israel, but here he looks like every person who has flailed around as they are trapped in a garment they are trying to remove. His head has disappeared and his hands are grasping at the excess chain mail, trying to pull it over his head. You can see the bump his head is making about halfway "up" the head covering. While the armor appeared to fit him in the upper right illustration, here we see how awkward David would be trying to fight in armor that is not his.

And that appears to be the point. David was equipped by God with the necessary skills to accomplish the task he was called to do. Trying to be someone else, trying to wear someone else's clothing (even protective armor) is simply a hindrance. When David sticks with what he knows, when he sticks with what God has given him, then it works.

The Dutch drawing below depicts the next part of the story. David has removed the armor and it sits like a pile of recyclables. Saul stands taller than the rest of the men with David at the right, gesturing at the pile. He acknowledges the thought behind the gift but understands (and announces) that he will leave the armor there. In a pile. Goliath won't be felled by armor but by God. It's a decision that David makes even before the battle begins. And in that decision lies the victory.

David Rejects Saul's Armor. Circle/School of Rembrandt. c. 1655. Drawing. British Museum, London. http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx?objectId=710447&partId=1&searchText=2010+113&images=true&page=1

For thoughts on the Gospel reading (Jesus calming the storm) Mark 4:35-41, click here.

I Samuel 15.34-16.13: Anointed By...

In this week's text from Hebrew scripture (I Samuel 15:34 - 16:13, Proper 6B/Ordinary 11B/Pentecost 3), David is anointed. But who does the anointing? Samuel, right? That's who does the earthly anointing of David. That's who anointed Saul before him. But of course, it is God who is really withdrawing favor from Saul and choosing David to be Israel's next king. Most artists stop with Samuel. Samuel holds the horn. Samuel pours the oil. Samuel stands as the king-to-be kneels before the priest.

There is another way, though. The version shown below, by American artist Guy Rowe, tells a different story. Rowe (1894-1968), born in Salt Lake City, reminds us that any anointing is God's and it comes from above.

In this version, one of Rowe's illustrations for In Our Image: Character Studies from the Old Testament (Oxford University Press, 1949), the visual order is turned on its head...or it's in perfect order, depending on how you look at it. At the center is the one being anointed. His maturity might lead us to believe this is Saul's anointing, but the lack of visual clues leaves this work able to represent almost any anointing. The future king's head and face are above the face of the priest Samuel, which reflects earthly governmental hierarchies. It's still a bit unusual when compared to the usual compositional arrangement (as mentioned above, with the candidate kneeling before the priest).

The placement of the anointing oil is perhaps most telling detail. Samuel raises his left hand and arm from the bottom corner of the composition and pours out the oil onto the candidate's head. The oil, a symbol of God's favor and choosing, is at the top of the picture, above all human faces.

It is a physical reminder that the anointed one is God's choice, not human choice. Though this week's text is about replacing Saul - truly a less-than-excellent king - Saul is replaced by David - who has his own moments of weakness. Humanity's best choice would be to stick with acknowledging only God as king. But that's a lesson the people have yet to learn.

For Guy Rowe, see: http://www.gyre-gimble.com/Guy_Rowe_American_Artist/Guy_Rowe.html In Our Image is out of print but available through several used book websites.

For a contemporary version of an anointing horn (and perhaps that's the identification clue needed to interpret the art
above...a horn is mentioned in this week's lectionary account of David's anointing but no horn is mentioned in last week's anointing of Saul), see this Facebook post for Art&Faith Matters. 

For thoughts on Mark 4:26-34, click here.