Water in the Desert

“And all mankind will see God’s salvation.”

This is John the Baptist’s ministerial tagline taken from the prophet Isaiah. Make straight paths, fill in valleys, lower mountains, all of these feats now possible by human ingenuity. But these accomplishments begin with a voice in a desert proclaiming the impossible is now evident: God is near. Culture is made through our longing for eternity.

Like John, artists are called to barren places to proclaim through word and deed God’s active and baptizing presence in the world. Here, little hope grows into highways and byways to God. Through our hands we smooth the rough places: one designs a bridge, while another writes a song that speaks into the heart of our universal pain. Either way Christians are called to be actively constructing wonders that reflect God’s salvation.

Isaiah and John the Baptist are usually associated with Advent for they make the bold proclamation that God will show himself in this world. In many ways artists are like these prophets. In the wilderness we live life preparing our communities for a final face to face with our Savior. Through our creations we acquaint, acclimatize, baptize, presage what ought to be, what can be, what shall be. Therefore, artists and prophets:

You who bring good news to Zion,

go up on a high mountain.

You who bring good news to Jerusalem,

lift up your voice with a shout,

lift it up, do not be afraid;

say to the towns of Judah,

“Here is your God!”

-Isaiah 40:9

This Advent become like John and Isaiah. Testify concerning Him through your art.

--Maria

Art as Relational

God desires for us to know him. So, when the Word became flesh, the Triune God actively established himself in our world through a relationship. Even now when we read the four apostles' distinctive gospel accounts of their time with Jesus our emotions are drawn upon because of specificity of time, place, people, and things—their experience and our experience become essential. The artistic value of the narrative is its ability to feed the imagination by employing what is familiar: emotion, experience, the things we bump against day in and day out. Unlike the scientific that views things as object, Jesus, Incarnate, make all things subjects. In the same way, art employs things—ideas, emotions, people, and places--and begs for the participant to “see” them. At a recent lecture the sculptor Anish Kapoor reminded the audience that “art is good at saying ‘come here and take a look at me.’” * Art, therefore, can assist in detecting Jesus, who John relates “was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.”

Roberto Goizueta also reminds us how the aesthetic “allows us to live life itself as an end in itself rather than as some-thing to be understood.” Goizueta observes when we treat subject like object--analyzing emotions and things as information, we continually set apart the emotional and spiritual dimension of our humanity (Goizueta, Caminemos Con Jesus, p.94). Likewise, John Dewey notes how in our society "prestige" goes to those who use their minds “without participation of the body.” Dewey continues that a further mind-body separation occurs when we depend and take control of the “bodies and labors of others” to accomplish our ideas and wants (Dewey, Art as Experience, p.21). As artists we frequently experience this disconnect when we are asked to create something overnight with no consideration for creativity's lengthy and costly process. The prophet Isaiah laments how we are people who hear, but never understand; we see, but never perceive. It takes relationship between the heart, mind, and body to hear with our ears, and understand with our hearts, in order to be healed.

Art allows both emotion and experience to formulate connections and weave patterns until the next experience causes us to establish anew our way of seeing, feeling, knowing. Art enables our transformation, the taking in of the new. And, indeed, it became the gospel writers’ mission to explore the new world Christ initiated. Furthermore, according to theater director Peter Sellars, our experience with art “holds us together.” * The sharing of art deepens our relationships with one another and with the art itself. Think of how much more we understand a work of art through the action of describing it to another. Art enlarges us. We, reciprocally add to its profundity. Through Christ, we no longer look at the world as object, to be owned, exploited, ignored. The king, who calls us his subjects, asks us to be in relationship with the world. Art is one way of embodying this commitment.

--Maria

* Quotes from Anish Kapoor and Peter Sellars are from the New York Public Library Lecture Series event of November 13th. Their conversation also included Brian Eno.

Missing the Mark

Once I was alive apart from the law; but when the commandment came, sin sprang up and I died. Romans 7:9

I like to say I got into acting on a fluke, but I believe God wanted me to be an actor so that I would become more like Him and that through my work others would see what Christ has done. In my pursuit of each character I discover that God is changing me, whispering to me about my own heart. The work of the actor has been called incarnational. We embody characters and enter the world of their story in order to pursue their ultimate good no matter who the character might be. All good actors discover their character through compassion, identifying with them and seeking their highest end.

I once prepared a scene for a TV episode in which my character was being questioned by the police at his little brother’s funeral. At first I believed my character was angry at his brother for having lived such a careless life and ending up a statistic. Just beneath the surface of his anger was latent sorrow and grief. Simple right? But the moment of breakthrough in the audition room came when I realized that my character was actually angry at himself and desperately trying to avoid the shame and guilt he felt for being unable to save his brother, a task that was never within his ability to accomplish. It turns out there’s something more universal than grief…pride.

A funny thing happens in our hearts whenever we hear about the thing which we must become… or else. Somehow we construct a perimeter by which we can measure or express our negligible resources to pull it off. And when the dust settles we’ll tax the world and everyone in it before we can admit our own failure to measure up to the standard. It’s a very fancy version of the blame game. The bible refers to this high standard as the law. But why is it that a perfect description of our intended purpose in the world, our teleos, awakens in us a sense of dread or even self hatred rather than inspired moral character?

In the Garden of Eden (Genesis chapters 1-2) Adam and Eve had no concept of their smallness in the great scheme of things, and they were never meant to. An infant is small but is never made to feel small in the world of the family. In fact it’s just the opposite. We’ve all seen how the nuclear center of the family shifts to accommodate a new born. But let the infant get the idea that it will enact it’s sovereignty on the local government to produce abundance and society on its own, then it must either have a moment of devastation or else it must find a vision more within its reach.

The gospel shows us that Jesus Christ the King, who does all things well, made himself lowly and condemned on the cross so that we could be held in great esteem by our Heavenly Father. He became insignificant so that we could become God’s treasured possession. Most of all, he fully claimed the condemnation that cries from every corner of every human heart “You’ve missed the mark!”

As you continue to reflect on the intersection of Christ's work on the cross and your own work in the world, consider how these gospel-conversant questions for the actor might also apply to your daily reception of God’s favor and love, which he stands ready to lavish on you in every moment of life, especially now.

Kenyon

Suggested Questions for the Actor in Loving Pursuit of a Character:

(Also may be helpful to ask questions in first person or “in character” using "I" and "my")

■ What does my character like most about herself/himself?

■ What is she/he most proud of in the story of their life?

■What would she/he likely change about herself/himself or their story if they could?

■ What mark or measure would she/he feel they have failed to attain in life?

■ What does she/he most regret in their life?

■ With whom does she/he need to be reconciled?

■ How will they she/he know they have been restored in that relationship?

■ How will she/he know when everything is finally ok in their story?

■ How would they describe “the good life”?

The Art of Suffering

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope

For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love

For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith

But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

T.S. Eliot, Second Quartet, East Coker, III

Suffering loosens the belief we are in control. When all we undertake falls apart and God seems to have gone on vacation, distress discerns an action that can be accomplish; that of waiting. What accompanies an artist’s wait? We create in hope. It is this aspect of art that reflects Christ’s redeeming work in the world allowing us to render every act of creativity as a sign of hope. Art reaches for the eternal despite our society’s refusal of such categories. As Christians we understand this hope as the beauty of redemption through the salvific works of Christ.

Edward Farley in Faith and Beauty maintains beauty is a manifestation of Christ’s redemptive work. Redemption allows us to uphold what is deemed valueless. Here, the darkness becomes light, the cast off is repurposed. Artists have the ability to take what is broken then reconstitute and employ it towards art. For Farley it is this transformative action that constitutes beauty. “Redemption reaches and reshapes into new freedoms all the ways in which the human being is infected by sin” (Faith and Beauty, 93).

John Dillenberger goes further and suggests difficult art needs to exist. He relates how the “literary and the visual are… affirmations in their negations; indeed, they negate in order to affirm” (A Theology of Artistic Sensibilities, 224). Artist make plain what needs to be—what should be, what can be. Ultimately, it is hope that drives the impulse of art making for it seeks to grasp Jesus’ work of redemption and transformation. Whether we are believers or not we all long for renovation. The nature of transformation, therefore, must fall under the Christian artist’s purview. In our own work we accept the waiting and the mysterious chaos of our lives then proceed to shape, arrange, and re-form it. Jeremy Begbie encouragingly reminds us, “In Christ, all that is ugly and subversive in the cosmos has been purified, beautified and fulfilled. Therein lies the promise for the transformation of all things” (Voicing Creation’s Praise, 175).

Redemption does not negate or ignore the ravages of sin but restores all things. Jesus’ transformative power goes further to redirect and transforms our inordinate desires. It is in the waiting where our love, hope, and faith finally reaches out for the Triune God. Barbara Brown Taylor speaks about this in terms of disillusionment. “Disillusionment,” she writes, “is the loss of illusion—about ourselves, about the world, about God—and while it is almost always painful, it is not a bad thing to lose the lies we have mistaken for the truth” (The Preaching Life, 8). It is in darkness we begin to see, feel, know. While waiting for God we offer him the pain, suffering and the waiting, which in turn, makes our work his.

Wait—for the darkness shall be light,

Maria

The Physicality of Grace

…You have given me relief when I was in distress. --Psalm 4:1

He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. --Psalm 18:19

You have not handed me over to the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place. --Psalm 31:8

If we put ourselves at the center of our lives, the world becomes a very small place. We become like an infant in a crib, pent up and cut off from the physical reality of the world in which we live. But grace offers us a different experience of ourselves and the world. Through grace we receive the physical world and our own bodies again.

When the Psalmist exclaims, “You have brought me into a spacious place…” he imagines a realm over which he does not have complete control. For in the world of his control he finds himself hunted by cruel enemies and tortured by guilt. In this world of his own making he is murderer, thief and adulterer. Yet when “in the day of his disaster” he is met by the Lord, he is led into a spacious place. This large room is an incredibly visceral description of grace as is David’s own physical sense of relief. He no longer feels trapped by his own deficiencies, instead he is lifted up and out. Relief came to him in the body because grace is a physical-realm response to a physical-realm problem. As a man thinketh so is he. But let us not limit this to the rational mind only. As a man thinketh also includes our imagination and our perceived existence in the physical realm.

Holiness connects us to deeper reality and we enter holiness by relinquishing control of our physical life to Jesus Christ. We enter holiness only through the realm of grace and we enter grace through yet another embodied experience. That is, the life that we would otherwise have lived in our bodies now must die in order for us to truly live.

Reflection

When at last we give up trying to protect ourselves against the flood of destruction that is due to us because of sin, and when at last we allow that flood to come crashing down as it has upon our Lord. When at last we put our imaginations to their highest use and remember him who gave himself for us and yet was without sin. When we see him, blazing and bleeding, seated at the right hand of God with our world under his feet and our destinies in the twinkle of his eye…When we see that he became inglorious for us, as shameful as a rapist, as guilty as Macbeth so that we could be wrapped up and held in the safest arms in the universe…Then we will enter the spacious place, that broad room of David, and the great, ancient sigh of relief which only the gospel of grace can induce in a human soul.

Kenyon