to help you discover the God you already know

Day: 11 December 2024

Who was present at the birth of Jesus?

I’ve often been fascinated by the characters artists have shown to be present at Jesus’ birth, who they’ve omitted, and the implications of their choices. Clearly Mary and the baby Jesus are there as the primary characters, and Joseph too, albeit in a less significant role if they took the ‘Virgin Birth’ literally, or in a more prominent one if maybe they didn’t.

Often angels are present, perhaps singing and dancing in celebration, as the only figures who truly understand the significance of what is happening, thus underlining the Divine Presence.

Shepherds might be there, representing ordinary men interrupted from their work, and sometimes mid-wives to represent working women. No priests or obviously religious figures. But in paintings commissioned by wealthy patrons, three kings or wise men and their impressive entourages are there, with the kings looking remarkably like the wealthy patrons. [Who of course are not portrayed as shepherds] They’re usually shown as representing the three ages of man, one young, one middle-aged, and one elderly. They also usually represent different countries of origin, with one having a black skin, to show that this birth was for the salvation of all the human race. If they’re wise men rather than kings, then other faiths are also present.

Some artists place animals in the scene, a donkey, cattle & sometimes sheep or a camel, with the implication that salvation was for the animal kingdom, and maybe all of creation, as well. But often they are omitted, with the implication, intended or not, that salvation was just for humans.

But I’ve just been sent, by my daughter Hannah an article by Erna Albertz in which she reflects on a 1515 painting “The Adoration of the Christ Child,” created by a follower of the Dutch painter Jan Joest of Kalkar.  

No animals in this one, but “a close look at the artwork reveals two characters who appear to have Down syndrome. One a shepherd–looking down at the scene from behind a post at the center of the painting–and the other an angel standing beside the mother Mary, these two participants in the nativity are situated in what would seem to be places of honor.

Because the painter is unknown, his motive for placing them there can only be surmised. He may have had a child with Down syndrome or simply known individuals with the condition. At that time, the syndrome also may not have been formally diagnosed as it is today. What seems beyond doubt is that he felt they belonged there, in the midst of the holy scene. Tears came to my eyes when first examining this painting: I have a younger sister with Down syndrome and can strongly relate to what the painter must have been trying to convey. Against what must surely have been a hostile environment for people with disabilities, his work attests to the power of love. I thought you’d appreciate seeing it too.”  And I do.

Another writer whom Hannah came across commented: “This oil on wood painting shows a classic nativity scene, and the little angel kneeling at the front on the left clearly has Down’s syndrome. Some think the shepherd at the back on the left also has an additional chromosome. At the time when the work was created it was common for the faces of those who had commissioned the art to feature within it. Perhaps we are looking at the face of the much-loved daughter of a wealthy and proud 16th Century Flemish family here. 

So examine your Christmas cards depicting the Birth of Jesus, and any nativity tableaus you may witness, and ask yourself ‘Who is the salvation depicted here for, who is included and who is absent, and why? And what are the implications of the choices that have been, probably unconsciously, made?’ And, even, who would you want to be pictured present at Jesus’ birth if you were to be in the position to commission an artwork?

First posted in http://contemporaryspirituality.blog

The Artist’s Room

I was recently in Sheffield with my daughter Lizzie, and we visited the Graves Gallery hoping to see a favourite painting of mine by Gwen John, ‘A Corner of the Artist’s Room in Paris’. It was out on loan, so I bought a postcard instead. It is a remarkable image.

It captures what R S Thomas might have called ‘the presence of an absence’ for neither the artist nor anyone else is in the picture. There are no signs of the artist’s equipment. We just have an empty chair with a white cushion facing slightly towards us, there is a blue garment strewn across it, a white parasol resting against it; and a table in front of a window, on which is a small vase of flowers. Gwen John is conspicuously not there, but there are things that indicate that she has been there and will return there, and together with the room itself, simple and uncluttered, with a window onto the world outside, they give a powerful sense of her presence. We can intuit quite a lot about her from this space that we know she inhabits, despite her absence. The existence of the picture implies that the artist herself must have been present in order to paint it, but chose to remain absent from it. Not even the title gives her away: it could be any artist.

I find that quite fascinating. On reflection its saying something that in many ways is commonplace and obvious. If I enter a room it will tell me a lot about the person/people who have created and inhabit it. If I visit an urban space it will tell me something about the culture of the people who live there. Reading this blog you might get a sense of the man who wrote it, without having ever met me in the flesh.

The winner of the Booker prize has just been announced, its ‘Orbit’ by Samantha Harvey, and I read it a couple of months ago. It’s about a day in the life of the International Space Station currently orbiting the earth sixteen times a day: the cosmonauts rather humdrum existence, and what they feel as they gaze at the planet, their real home. Earth looks very different from out there of course, it’s awe-inspiringly beautiful.

While in Sheffield, Lizzie and I went for a walk in the Rivelin Valley, and it was stunning & awe-inspiringly beautiful too, with its bare trees & autumn colours.

The Great Cosmic Artist, of course is as absent; from all this as Gwen John is from her painting, but we can intuit much about Her/Him from the clues that are available to us. Its just a matter of looking and being aware of the Presence that is hiding in plain sight.

First posted in http://contemporaryspirituality.blog