Luke and Acts: Something Promised This Way Comes

In the liturgical calendar, May 31, 2020 is both the celebration of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-21) and the day marking the Visitation of Mary and Elizabeth (Luke 1:39-57). It's an interesting mix. Both are important in their own right, but it's an interesting idea to consider them together. What do these days have to say to one another?

One episode is at the beginning of Jesus' story; the other is at the end. Jesus is present in both stories in a spiritual sense but not walking the earth in either story. Mary, the mother of Jesus may be present in both stories. Though Acts doesn't mention her presence, artists often depict Mary in the midst of  the disciples on the day of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit is also physically present at Pentecost and was also active in the early stories in Luke's gospel.

What both episodes recognize is a promise fulfilled. At the Visitation, Elizabeth rejoices that that "the mother of my Lord" comes to her. Elizabeth recognizes that the promise of the Messiah has come. She also recognizes Mary's faithfulness in believing the promise: And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord. Pentecost is the fulfillment of the promised Spirit.

Jyoti Sahi. The Pentecost.1983.

Jyoti Sahi draws the stories together in the painting above. In the middle of the flame-like colors of Pentecost and under a descending dove is Mary, the mother of Jesus. Mary appears to be seated. Where you would expect to see her midsection clothed in white, however, is a mandorla. Mandorla is the Italian word for almond, which describes that seed-like shape. The shape is also called a vesica piscis. In images of the Visitation, Mary's belly is often defined by a shape that is at least reminiscent of the mandorla. Within that shape is Jesus (and in the example linked here, check John's reaction). The mandorla in the painting reminds us that Mary is the mother of Jesus the Christ. Because it is an image of Pentecost, we remember that the church is called to be the body of Christ in the world. 

Pentecost is the seed of the church. The promised power has come. It's not the first of God's promises that have been fulfilled. One more time, the fulfilled promise of God means life and growth. We should all be leaping for joy.  

Nativity: Familiar Details

If you've seen one European painting of Jesus' nativity (Luke 2:1-14), you may be inclined to believe you've seen them all. But what we understand as the "usual" arrangement for those nativity paintings has an interesting history. It has roots in Sweden.


In the tradition of icons, Mary is often shown reclining, resting after her labor and the birth of Jesus. At the beginning of the fourteenth century in Italy, the usual pose for the infant Jesus was on the lap of his mother Mary who is seated on a throne. Magi, saints, donors, and music-making angels visited the enthroned madonna, who is dressed in a red garment topped by a dark blue cloak. The Maesta Altarpiece (top left) was commissioned in 1308 by the city of Siena, Italy. Maesta means majesty, and this piece is considered among the most sublime examples of the type.


On the other side of Europe in Sweden, a widow named Bridget (Birgitta) founded a religious order after one of the many visions she was given in her lifetime. She left Sweden for Rome in 1349 and made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 1371-1372. While in Jerusalem she traveled to Bethlehem and received a vision of Jesus' nativity. She dictated the images to a scribe, and her vision became a strong influence on how the nativity was depicted in art.

Niccolo di Tommaso's Saint Bridget's Vision of the Nativity, the center panel of an triptych altarpiece (bottom left) is inspired by Bridget's vision. The artist and the mystic probably met in Naples, where both had ties and where Bridget was twice a resident and Niccolo had a patron and several commissions. Bridget returned from Jerusalem in 1372 and died in Naples in 1373.

Bridget's vision yielded the details of a cave with an ox and a donkey, a single candle on the wall, a golden-haired Mary wearing a white garment, Joseph who is an old man, Jesus lying directly on the ground, and more. Mary's actions are also new. As an enthroned madonna, Mary held her child on her lap, facing the viewer. In Bridget's vision Mary delivered the baby while on her knees. The "Adoration of the Christ Child" became a type after the diffusion of Bridget's vision. Mary no longer looks out at the viewer. Instead she looks at her son, who is so newborn that she hasn't even held him yet.

Niccolo has given credit to the woman whose vision has inspired this work. Bridget is shown kneeling at the bottom right of the center panel. She does not wear the Brigittine order's distinctive fabric crown with five red tips.

So many of those details are things we imagine have always been part of depictions of Jesus' birth. Surprisingly, always is only six or seven centuries.

Duccio di Buoninsegna. Maesta Altarpiece. 1308-1311. Siena: Cathedral Museo dell'Opera.
Niccolo di Tommaso. Saint Bridget's Vision of the Nativity (center panel). 1375-76. Philadelphia Museum of Art. 
For the text of Bridget's vision, click here.

For other thoughts on Christmas, click here and here.
For a view of Christmas Eve in Mexico, see Art&Faith Matters on Facebook.

Luke 2.41-52: The People in Church

English artist William Holman Hunt painted "The Finding of the Saviour in the Temple" as part of his effort to revitalize Biblical subjects in art. He traveled to Jerusalem, used local people as models, and attempted to inject symbolism into every choice he made when painting Biblical subjects. From the story of Jesus at age twelve (Luke 2:41-52), Hunt has chosen to paint the moment when anxious parents Mary and Joseph are standing at Jesus' side. The artist has not focused on Jesus' discussion with the rabbis, but the rabbis' presence at the left of the canvas witnesses to the discussion that happened before parents and child were reunited.

Hunt's painting interprets this story as an exploration of how the old meets the new. On the frame, the left side's brazen serpent (Moses in the wilderness) is balanced with a cross (the new means of "healing"). At the top center the rising sun (Christ) eclipses the light of the moon (the Torah). In the painting itself, outside the room where the conversation is happening, workers are completing the physical building of the temple and a blind man sits on the steps. Meanwhile, on the gold plate behind the head of Jesus is an inscription in Latin and Hebrew: And the LORD, whom you seek, shall suddenly come to his temple (Malachi 3:1).

Seven rabbis sit in the covered porch surrounded by their aides and attendants, including a group of musicians. The group of religious officials wraps around behind the three members of the Holy Family. Though the group visually moves behind Mary, Joseph and Jesus, the family is not really embraced by them. The rabbis in the lower left represent different responses to Jesus. The rabbi closest to us has his right arm wrapped around the Torah. His eyes appear sightless, so he literally cannot see what is before him and instead blindly clings to what he has known. Next to him (to the right of the rabbi for the viewer) sits a second rabbi holding a phylactery box (containing parchment scrolls on which are written verses of the Torah). This rabbi has turned his face, looking toward the blind rabbi and away from Jesus. He has chosen not to see Jesus but instead pats the hand of the (seemingly) older man as if to reassure him. The upper body of the third rabbi leans forward toward Jesus in a more aggressive position. We can imagine that he is the one who has been debating with Jesus and has only stopped the debate because of the arrival of Mary and Joseph. The fourth rabbi leans back, away from Jesus as if stepping back - disengaging - in order to judge. He wears a broad phylactery (remember Jesus' comment on broad phylacteries in Matthew 23:5) on his forehead, so that others may see his piety at all times. A fifth rabbi sits comfortably on his cushion, a bowl of something in his left hand, raised halfway to his mouth. A sixth rabbi leans around as if trying to see what Mary is saying to Jesus. The seventh rabbi sits almost Buddha-like, solid, comfortable and seemingly unmoving.

One of the men cannot see Jesus because he continues to cling to what he knows. Another is busy consoling the blind one. A third aggressively argues with Jesus. One sits back waiting, wanting to be seen as holy, several look satisfied with where and who they are and seem unwilling to take any action or any risk in order to respond to Jesus in a meaningful way.

It's too easy to make this about rabbis, though. If Jesus walked into your church building, what people would he meet? Those who cling to the culture they know rather than who Jesus is? People who are happy to hold on to religious things while reassuring others that nothing will change? Would Jesus find people who would argue with him about his teachings?  Would Jesus find people who are comfortable and satisfied with the status quo because it has benefited them, so they aren't interested in being stirred to actually do anything?

Twelve-year-old Jesus wasn't the kind of Messiah that the rabbis in the temple were expecting. And the artist himself drew parallels between these rabbis and clergy of his own day. But it isn't just about clergy. It's about all the people of God and how we respond when faced with Jesus, whatever his appearance.

Above: William Holman Hunt. The Finding of the Saviour in the Temple. 1854-55. Birmingham (England) Museum and Art Gallery.

For additional thoughts on Luke 2:41-52, click here.
For further details on this painting, see this week's Art&Faith Matters' Facebook page.

I Samuel 1 and 2: Hannah Did You Know?

The similarities between Hannah's song (I Samuel 2:1-10) and Mary's Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) are well-documented and analyzed. Both songs are spoken after the promise of the birth of a boy child. Both have themes of the coming of God's reign, turning this world upside down: the poor are raised up and the lowly are exalted. God is fully in control through the one who was chosen and anointed by God.

What is quite different about these two women's stories is "the other woman." Both Hannah and Mary, in the context of their pregnancy experiences, encountered another woman. These "other" women offered quite contrasting responses to Hannah and Mary.

Hannah must deal with Peninnah, also wife to Elkanah. Peninnah has children where Hannah has none. Peninnah's practice is to provoke Hannah, taunting her about her lack of children. Though Elkanah professes to love Hannah best, she is still subject to the stinging words of the other woman. In the manuscript illumination below, Elkanah, Hannah, Peninnah, and her children are on the road back home from Jerusalem.

The journey home is one scene on a page devoted to the story of Hannah. In the top left Elkanah has made his sacrifice and distributes portions to Peninnah and her children as well as to Hannah. Though Hannah may receive a double portion, the greater amount goes to Peninnah who receives portions for herself and her children. In the upper right we see Hannah weeping in the temple, where Eli believes she is drunk. In the lower right is the miracle: the birth of Samuel.

In the lower left panel, Elkanah, his two wives and his children all seem to be on the road home. Elkanah has a raised finger as if he is chastising Peninnah for her taunting of Hannah. Peninnah's children appear to be eating bread as they walk.

(Left) Hannah's Grief; Hannah's Prayer; The Road Home; Samuel. The Morgan Picture Bible (MS M.638, folio 19v). Paris, France. 1240s. Morgan Library, New York. (Right) Visitation. Book of Hours of Maréchal de Boucicaut. 1405-08. Manuscript (Ms. 2) Musee Jacquemart-Andre, Paris, France.

What a trial life must have been to Hannah before the birth of Samuel. Hannah, of course, longs for a child and has been unable to have one, a circumstance that Elizabeth would fully understand. Mary is unmarried (though betrothed) and finds herself unexpectedly pregnant. Fortunately Mary's experience visiting her relative Elizabeth is entirely different from Hannah's difficulties. 

From the moment Mary arrives at the home of Elizabeth and Zechariah, she is greeted as one who has been blessed by God. Elizabeth acknowledges that "blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord." Elizabeth understands that Mary will be "the mother of [her] Lord." There is affection and respect and support between the two women.

Hannah, too, has received a promise of sorts. Eli asks that God fulfill her petition - which does happen. Presumably Peninnah's comments either stop or cease to hurt Hannah. Her son is not with her daily, but she has fulfilled the promise she made to give her son to God. As Mary's story unfolds, she, too, will give up her son. And that is when her own soul will be pierced by sorrow.

For thoughts relating I Samuel 2:1-10 and Mark 13:1-8, click here.
For how Psalm 113 relates to the story of Hannah, see Art&Faith Matters on Facebook.

Can They? Can They? Can They?

Lazarus is brought back to life. The valley of dry bones is brought back to life. These resurrection-themed texts are the readings for Lent 5A (Ezekiel 37: 1-14, John 11:1-45), giving a little glimpse of the Easter that is getting closer and closer. The Ezekiel passage is visually engaging and has inspired artists to create images of jumbles of bones in inhospitable landscapes. The gospel reading is perhaps less visual, as it is difficult to capture an image of the moment of reanimation.

Surely we all rejoice when bone connects to bone and sinews and muscles appear and the breath of God brings life where there was none before. But what about before the unexpected (though welcome) conclusion? Did Ezekiel or Mary or Martha believe that dry bones could live? Do we really believe that dry bones can live?

Henry A. Bowler. The Doubt: Can These Bones Live? 1855. London: Tate. http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/bowler-the-doubt-can-these-dry-bones-live-n03592

Henry Alexander Bowler's canvas (above) shows a woman in a country churchyard, leaning on a gravestone seemingly pondering what is around her. The stone on which she leans marks the grave of John Faithful, who died in 1791. A skull and femur erupt from the dirt in front of her. Engraved on the stone, though she cannot see it, is the text "I am the Resurrection and the Life." The stone on which falls the shadow of the tree has the engraved word "Resurgam" ("I will rise again"). But Bowler's title for the painting, while quoting Ezekiel, makes us wonder. The work is titled The Doubt: Can These Dry Bones Live? Doubt. This woman, dressed in the clothing of the artist's day rather than the clothing fashionable at the time of John Faithful's death, wonders. She doubts. Can they live?

(Left) Mary and Martha meet Jesus at the City Gate. Chichester Cathedral, UK. 12th century. 

http://www.chichestercathedral.org.uk/about-us/delve-deeper-1/chichester-reliefs/ (Right) Barry Moser. Valley of Dry Bones. Pennyroyal Caxton Bible. http://www.pennyroyalcaxton.com/

The gospel text tells us that Martha went out to meet Jesus when he (finally!) arrived in Jerusalem. The relief above left, from Chichester Cathedral, shows both Mary and Martha meeting Jesus at the gate. Both are shown in positions of supplication. Jesus, as the most important figure is tallest. And in the text, Martha is perhaps not quite as submissive as she appears in the relief. In the text she meets Jesus with bold conversation. She believes that Lazarus will rise at the last day. But now? Can they live?

Ezekiel is asked the question: Mortal, can these bones live? Can they? Ezekiel has the answer: O Lord God, you know. That is the answer. God does know. And God's answer to Mary and Martha and Lazarus and Ezekiel is, "Yes, they can." Look around you at things that look lifeless and hopeless. Situations, landscapes, relationships. Is it possible that with God even those dry bones can live? Can they?

This week on Art&Faith Matters' Facebook page...crying from the Psalm. Click on the link below.

Luke 10.38-42: Choose Both

What do you do if you enjoy spending time in the kitchen AND in the library? The gospel reading for Proper 11C/ Ordinary 16C (Luke 10:38-42) is the familiar and overly dichotomized story of Lazarus' sisters: Martha and Mary. They are easily set against one another:

Martha was too busy for Jesus. Mary chose the better part.

Martha was overly concerned with her work in the kitchen. Mary chose the better part.

Martha was a complainer. Mary chose the better part.

Martha is the "active" life. Mary is the "contemplative" (and better) part. 

But  plenty of people have found balance between these false dichotomies. They live a faith that is both active and contemplative. One of the most succinct directives for such a life came from Mother Ann Lee, founder of the Shaker societies that appeared in 19th-century America. Ann Lee was born in England but traveled to America with her "followers" in 1774 after suffering persecution in England. The Shakers (more accurately The United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing) believed in equality of the sexes and races and believed that Ann Lee herself represented the manifestation of Christ's spirit on earth. They practiced celibacy and counted on conversions to grow their numbers. There are currently three Shakers in America.

One of the mottoes of Mother Ann Lee offers wisdom for Mary, Martha and any of us who think that following Jesus means either active or contemplative. Mother Ann's directive was "Hands to work and hearts to God." Mary and Martha should have been happy with that directive. Though not a Shaker design, one of the places to see Mother Ann's directive about hearts and hands translated into design is through the "heart in hand" cookie cutter. The cookie cutter (and its design) is probably more Pennsylvania Dutch than Shaker, but the concepts are related. And both are a good reminder about balance rather than choosing one.

For further information on the last active Shaker community (Sabbathday Lake, ME), see:  http://maineshakers.com/  For information on Shaker community museums, see: http://hancockshakervillage.org/ (Hancock Shaker Village, Pittsfield, MA) and http://shakervillageky.org/ (Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill, KY).


The cookie cutter (top) is a vintage cutter that is no longer available for sale. The bottom is a contemporary cutter, available at: http://www.salemcandleworks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=4_12&products_id=58&zenid=18cb47906160e3d8bbfdec56624fff95

For thoughts on Amos 8:1-12, click here.

In the Beginning

It's an old art history trivia question that speaks to the gospel reading for Christmas 2C (John 1:1-18). Here's the set up: in Michelangelo's Creation of Adam, we know that God's right hand reaches out to the newly created Adam. (Detail below.) Here's the question: where is God's left hand and arm? Don't look at the full view until you've made a guess.

Michelangelo. Creation of Adam (detail). Sistine Chapel, 1508-1512. Vatican City, Italy. http://mv.vatican.va/3_EN/pages/CSN/CSN_Volta_StCentr.html

OK, now look at the bottom of the page for the full view. Was it what you thought? And, actually what is it? Obviously it's God and a number of other figures floating in space on a cloak-like background. God's left arm is around a female figure, and God's left hand is touching an infant. Who are they?

There is no definitive answer, but there are theories. All the theories wind up with the infant as the Christ Child, so it is the identity of the woman that shapes the meaning of the composition. One theory identifies the female figure as Eve, waiting her turn to be created. Eve, whose name means life, will be the mother of all humanity. A second casting of the figures calls the female figure Mary, who will be the literal mother of Jesus. A third option is that the female figure is Wisdom (see Proverbs 8:22ff.). Yet another proposal is that the female figure is the Holy Spirit (ruach, a feminine noun, in the Hebrew). With this interpretation, the figures become the Trinity, all three persons present in the beginning.

Each of the above propositions concludes with the identification of the infant as the Christ Child. The interpretations by turn feature the Christ as the second Adam, the son of God and one person of the Trinity. However it is interpreted, Michelangelo has caused the hand of God to rest eternally on the child. The artist has placed the Word in the beginning, exactly where John's gospel said he was.

On Art&Faith Matters' Facebook page this week...Epiphany! Travel with the magi by clicking here.