Matthew 15.10-28: Stella's Table Manners

After a difficult beginning in life, Stella (a German shepherd-Husky-Rottweiler mix) came to live in a very good home. However, Stella will occasionally get overly enthusiastic when dinner begins and will beg at the table. When that happens, Stella's people will get her attention with the words, "Stella. Table manners." The image of dogs eating under and arround the dinner table is familiar to many people who share their lives with dogs. Jesus' exchange with the Canaanite woman about children, bread and dogs - the Gospel reading for Proper 15(20)A/Pentecost 11A (Matthew 15:(10-20) 21-28) - adds something new to the conversation. Jesus' association of bread, table, children and dogs offers a strategy for looking at images of the Last Supper. Are there crumbs falling from that particular table? Are there any references to Jesus' conversation with the Canaanite woman?

Jacopo Tintoretto painted at least ten different versions of the Last Supper. They are busy, active scenes - quite a contrast to the solemn poses and perfect perspective of, say, Leonardo's iconic version. In Tintoretto's compositions, the disciples are not alone with Jesus - other people are present. In one version, the dishes are being washed in the same room as the supper while smoke and doves fill the space. In the version at left (top), now hanging in Venice's Santo Stefano church, a dog is shown on the steps directly beneath Jesus. The line of the dog's body, which points directly to Jesus, is echoed by the line of a child (to the right of the dog) and by the line of a women (to the left of the dog). Dog, child, table, woman. The reference is to Jesus' conversation with the Canaanite women.

The bottom left image is another of Tintoretto's versions of the Last Supper. There is another dog present on the steps leading up to the table where Jesus (at the back of the room) is eating with his disciples. What do you see in that image? Is there a woman and/or a child? Who are the human figures on the stairs? Is there something about those people that should make us think of crumbs falling from the table?

As we gather around the Lord's table, we should mind our own table manners. Is everyone being served? Is everyone welcome? Is anyone relegated to receiving only the crumbs that fall from the table?

(Top) Tintoretto. The Last Supper. c. 1570. Santo Stefano, Venice, Italy. 
(Bottom) Tintoretto. The Last Supper. 1579-81. Scuola Grande di San Rocco, Venice, Italy. http://www.scuolagrandesanrocco.org/home-en/tintoretto.

For a take on the reading from Hebrew scripture for this Sunday, click here.

This week on A&FM's Facebook page, a look at Psalm 133. Click on the link below.

Luke 18.1-8: Ourselves in the Story

The persistence of the widow in Luke 18:1-8 (Proper 24C/Ordinary 29C) ultimately got her what she sought. What she sought was justice. The judge - admittedly uncaring about much of anything including justiceand therefore unjust - ultimately gives in. Not because he cares about her or her cause or justice but because he gets tired of her constant nagging. It's a little disheartening as an example of human judicial process. It's more disheartening to realize that human nature may have changed little since this gospel was written.

Symeon Shimin. "Contemporary Justice - the Child". 1940. Tempera. Washington DC: Department of Justice.

The tempera painting above hangs in the Great Hall of the U.S. Department of Justice. The artist, Symeon Shimin (1902-1984), illustrated more than 50 children's books, writing two himself. Though the subject was probably assigned as part of a series of paintings in the building, Shimin's affinity for the subject of justice in relation to the child makes sense.

Don't lose heart, the parable tells us. Don't lose heart even when the system is broken. The widow doesn't give up; she keeps petitioning the judge. She doesn't change from her course. The judge doesn't change either, but the widow eventually gets what she has been seeking. God's justice will come, sometimes through human judicial processes...and sometimes in spite of them. 

The National Observance of Children's Sabbaths is usually in October. Congregations are 

encouraged to "stand tall within our communities and push our nation to keep our promises of love and justice, equality and dignity for all." (Children's Defense Fund; http://www.childrensdefense.org/programs/faithbased/faith-based-action-programs-pages/childrens-sabbaths/National-Observance-of-Children-s-Sabbaths.html) 

This painting reminds us of the promises of justice that we make to our children. What we, as people of faith, must ask ourselves as we consider this story (and the state of our nation) is whether, in relation to our children, we are the widow persisting in our quest for justice or the unjust judge.

For thoughts on Jeremiah 31:27-34, click here.

Bringing Children into this World

Fair warning. This week's post is more reflection than exegesis. While browsing images for both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, the pairing of the texts for Proper 28B/Ordinary 33B/Pentecost 25 (I Samuel 20:4-20 and I Samuel 2:1-10 along with Mark 13:1-8, especially verses 1 and 2) led to the thoughts here.

"For this child I prayed." The phrase is actually between the two passages from I Samuel for this week. But it remembers the first while anticipating the second. Hannah prayed for a child and God finally answered her prayer. This child, I prayed. Hannah's prayer continues to echo in faithful, hopeful, often-disappointed hearts to this very day.

"Not one stone will be left." Jesus reminds the disciples (and us) about the fragility of our world. All we need do is look around to see that Titus as a type still exists in our world. Titus who laid siege to Jerusalem, finally breached its walls, marched into the city and destroyed the Temple. Almost every stone.

As I pondered these scriptures it occurred to me that we continue to pray for children to come into the world even as we know that this world is a fragile place, often especially dangerous to the very children we ask God to give us. But we continue to ask.

Despite the Tituses. Despite the destruction. Despite the danger. Despite those who lead others astray. Despite the wars and the rumors of wars. Despite nation fighting nation and kingdom fighting kingdom. Despite earthquakes. Despite famine. Despite it all. We continue to ask for children and God continues to answer that request. Children continue to be brought into this world. This world. Not the next, not another. This world.

Pictures above: (top) Prayed-for Child. Photo (c) Lynn Miller. (below) Francesco Hayez. The Destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem. 1867. Venice: Gallerie delle'Accademia.  http://www.gallerieaccademia.org/?lang=en

See how this painting (Bosch's Adoration of the Magi) relates to the story of Hannah at the Art&Faith Matters Facebook page.

For additional thoughts on Hannah, click here.

Mark 9.30-37: Jesus and Children, Generally and Specifically

As is often the case, the details probably best identify the subject. The gospel reading for Proper 20B/Ordinary 25B/Pentecost 17 (Mark 9:30-37) is a story that shares broad strokes with other scripture passages. Disciples, Jesus, children -- sometimes they are jumbled together in paintings and expected to serve all the stories where Jesus is in the presence of children.

The most popular treatment of these elements seems to center around the episode where the disciples are rebuked by Jesus for trying to keep the children away from Jesus (Matthew 19:13-14, Mark 10:13-16, Luke 18:15-17). In contemporary illustrations, often Jesus is simply with a group of children in a landscape. No other adults are present. The children sit on his lap, stand at his knee, occasionally sit on his shoulder. Jesus is often smiling or reaching out his hand to touch and bless them. In at least one image Jesus kicks a soccer ball with a group of children. Because there are no adults present, these compositions may be projecting the result of Jesus' comments to the disciples. Children are unhindered and unrestrained in the presence of of an unhindered and unrestrained Jesus.

But that doesn't necessarily speak to the Mark 9 passage. In that particular passage, the child, who may be the promise of the future but is considered of little consequence in the present, is put in the middle of the group. Jesus holds the child and in his speech ties himself to the child: whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.

Below are three pictures. Which one do you think is the best depiction of the Mark 9 text? Perhaps you are dissatisfied with all of them. Look at the details of the composition. What's best or what's missing in each of them? Information on the works are at the bottom of the page.

 

 (Top left: Nicolas Maes. Christ Blessing the Children. 1652-1653. National Gallery, London. http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/nicolaes-maes-christ-blessing-the-children. Top right: Carl Bloch, Suffer the Little Children. 1865-1879. Frederiksborg Castle Chapel, Hillerod, Denmark. http://www.dnm.dk/dk/Slotskirken.htm. Bottom: C.R. Leslie, Christ Rebuking His Disciples by Calling the Little Child. c. 1860. New Norcia Art Gallery, Australia. http://www.newnorcia.wa.edu.au/education-and-research/museum.html)

The Art&Faith Matters Facebook page will feature paintings of Jesus and the children - not necessarily this specific text but they will give you something to push against as you consider the meaning of Mark 9. Click here and here.

For thoughts on Proverbs 31:10-31, click here.

John 2.13-22: Not in Front of the Children!

What do we do with the Jesus in the gospel reading for Lent 3B? John 2:13-22 shows us a side of Jesus that is rarely seen. Perhaps because it's not often seen, it's not always successfully depicted. The action is in the turning over and driving out, so a single stop-action art image doesn't always capture the unexpected ferocity.

Giotto created a panel with this subject in his series of frescoes in the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua. That the artist chose this subject is interesting because of the chapel's history. Commissioned by Enrico Scrovegni, the chapel honors the Scrovegni family, a family that made its fortune in banking by, as was a usual if not especially moral banking practice at the time, charging usurious interest rates. So well-known a usurer was Reginaldo Scrovegni (Enrico's father), that he appears in the seventh ring of Hell in Dante's Inferno. If the chapel was built to atone for family sins, the choice of this episode brings pause.

Giotto's version of this story is much like others': animals and cages, people standing, architectural enclosures. Jesus has indeed made a whip, though it is quite light and not easily seen from a distance. Because the whip is barely visible, Jesus appears to be preparing to throw a punch. The whip is also short - looking more like a swinging necklace than something that would make grown men turn and run. To the right side of the composition, temple officials are huddled with their heads together, no doubt censuring and criticizing.

Giotto di Bondone. Expulsion of the Merchants. c. 1305. Padua: Scrovegni Chapel. http://www.cappelladegliscrovegni.it/index.php/en/

Consider, though, what is happening at the left. Jesus' eyes, his arms and his energy are all moving toward the right, but at the left are the disciples. Identifiable across the fresco cycle by their halos and clothing, the disciples offer shelter and comfort to two children who are moving away from Jesus. A child holding a dove stands in front of Peter. The child is not completely painted and fades into ghostliness. The other child's face is completely hidden in the robe of another disciple, a small hand clutching a fistful of tunic, while the disciple puts a comforting hand on the child's shoulder and back.

Wait! Wasn't it the other way around earlier? In the synoptic gospels the disciples try to keep the children away from Jesus, but Jesus calls them to himself. (Matthew 19:13-15; Mark 10:13-16; Luke 18:15-17) Here, though, the disciples are the ones who console the children. What are we to do with Jesus in this text?





Art&Faith Matters Facebook post uses Hieronymous Bosch's painting "The Ship of Fools" as an entree into the Epistle reading for Lent 3B.