Eternal LIFE: Attentiveness

So much of our work as artists is bound up in conscious attentiveness. We must pay attention. We pay attention to choices and how they interact in our media, to colors, to light, to tone. Attentiveness leads us to a weary contentment when at last, in the moment of inspiration, our work transcends form and material. The burden of attentiveness becomes the artist's most auspicious exercise, perhaps because it points to the reality that the present moment is imbued with it's reflective worth in eternity. As Maria Fee wrote this week about our next InterArts which will feature an exhibition of her artwork, "We will seek to explore how Eternal LIFE is part of our present life as artists". But how can we cultivate our attentiveness in order to work with eternity in mind?


At lunch with International Arts Movement Executive Director Bryan Horvath this week, we lamented about the human tendency to be blissfully unaware of all the ways that God is working in and through the arts. It's all too easy to imagine that an artist who may have little regard for God's kingdom or the work of the Spirit is consequently disqualified as a conduit of divine presence and power. But God often chooses to work through such unsuspecting people and circumstances. Curious, isn't it? Could it be that one reason for this phenomenon is simply that everything which we call good work is empowered by the Spirit who blows like the wind and falls like the rain on the just and the unjust? And if this is the case then could it also be said that anyone who cultivates a careful observation of this magnum opus of the Spirit through conscious attentiveness to his good work in essence becomes a careful observer of the Spirit? From this viewpoint it's more than a little embarrassing that we who would, by the Spirit, seek to worship, honor and cherish him through an ancient & divine blood covenant are so often the last to notice his precious presence and activity. So, what's that about? How can we connect our conscious lives in the present to the Eternal LIFE of the Spirit such that our work in the present becomes a reflection to us of it's eschatalogical destiny?


Perhaps we can learn from actors in this matter. Let us look to the theater! Actors endeavor to be present in the moment of each scene while also being fully aware of and aspiring toward the play's culmination. The skill of the actor then is to employ their bodies and imaginations in the service of their character's highest ends with an acute attentiveness to every detail of staging, lighting, music, direction and their fellow actors. All of this must happen concurrent with a collaborative effort to move the story forward for the audience with a tremendous amount of focused intention until the dropping of the curtain. This proves even more difficult in film when the scenes are disparate, often shot out of order and over the course of several months. But is it possible in our real lives to be fully present, attentive and yet future-minded? Tall order huh?


It seems impossible to me, until I remember the words of Jesus to his disciples upon his departure from the earth, I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." (Luke 24:49). Jesus speaks here of the coming of the Holy Spirit and his instruction for his disciples is to wait in eager expectation even as the creation now waits for the Spirit of God to be revealed in human beings (Romans 8:19). Our conscious attentiveness, then, is no empty meditation but pregnant with anticipation of power from on high. It is the promise of Christ and the proof of his faithfulness (death on a cross) that becomes the subject of our attentiveness and the source of our power as we anticipate the culminating work of the Spirit in our world. We, like the disciples, must wait in the city for power from on high. And we do not wait in vain for God has shown us that he has held nothing back from us, pouring out his very essence even on those who reject him. Let's pray for eyes to see more of his magnum opus in the artists and industries to which we have been called. 


Kenyon

ETERNAL LIFE: This Death Must Come

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

                                                                       

                                                                     -Julian of Norwich

What is the story underlying your journey as an artist? Are you on a path to glory? If I’m honest with myself, the pervasive narrative in which I locate my struggle to create and share art is often rooted in my own imagined “path to glory”. As you can probably guess, viewing my life with this story in my heart often leads to more than a little frustration. It can even lead me to depression. Why does it seem that God is working against this “path to glory” narrative I’ve created? Doesn’t he want me to flourish and shine, if only for the sake of others (and for the years I spent watching VH1 and MTV). How might God see my path unfolding? As we continue our meditation this year exploring the essence of LIFE, please join me in a series of reflections on ETERNAL: LIFE looking forward to our next quarterly InterArtsFellowship with Cherith Nordling and guest artists.

i. This Death Must Come

God’s path to glory always includes death. This is staggering news to us, continually. But he is the Master Redeemer and this is his way. Our way of redeeming is about self glory. That is our natural choice. Whether we are aware of it or not, we actually default to our own self glory in all things. But the Master Redeemer knows us quite well. We were not always so inclined. He also knows the whole of His creation. And he knows the future.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

Yet now is the hour of redemption by death alone. This death will come, to the self we seek to glorify. And this is his most loving way. This is his mercy. For his glory is not a matter of self-actualization for the Almighty, as it would be for you and I. That is a ludicrous comparison. No, the Almighty has no maker, he is eternal, the creator of all though not himself created... His glory is for the becoming of all things which are not himself, that they might become glorified by being drawn into his destiny. And this is the magnificent work of the cross.

Through Christ’s death, the death of God, all that is not within God is brought back into him not only for his own glory but for the reclamation of glory for all that he made. The cosmos is swept into the eternal life of God through Christ’s eternal reign over death. All which lives to die, now lives in the shadow of the cross and the hope of resurrection through the risen one. So this death must come, and through it shall come the resurrection of all things by the catalytic, Eternal LIFE of Christ, who is the glory of God.

Kenyon

BODY LIFE: Hoffen und Unschuld

hoffen und unschuld (hope and innocence)

My wife Emily is a person who genuinely loves life. She is apt to make faces at babies on the subway and gasp with joy at the first appearance of spring in Central Park. Historically, I’ve been suspicious of such optimism, but I am finding myself challenged to further examine the source of this hopeful outlook. The more I seek the more I find that perhaps it is my own cynicism that I should hold in suspicion.

Rainer Maria Rilke, one of the great poets of the German language, believed that in order to write poetry one must live a great deal of life and experience it with subtle inundation. In his first and only novel, Journal of My Other Self, the main character muses that a poet must have many adventures and losses which then seep down into his very being, eventually becoming a source of inspiration. In part, Rilke is saying that a poet must actually love life itself.

It could also be said that love of life is elemental to Christianity since the gospel presents hope for life, even the hope of eternal life. Yet, in the gospel hope is ultimately tied to divine love. Love always protects, always hopes, always perseveres. The story of the gospel portrays divine love as a singular form of activism rooted in irreversible promises and evidenced by violently protective tendencies from the Exodus to the Cross.

If I accept the gospel as true, then I am challenged to accept my own identity as the beloved of God, the focal point of divine love. I suspect that this notion has at least the potential to fill each moment of my small life with palpable hope, a sort of chain reaction of positive realizations: If I am reconciled to God, then perhaps I can be reconciled to my fellow man. If to my fellow man, perhaps there is hope for the complexities of our shared existence in the world.

In this view, it seems that the smile of a baby on the subway might reasonably prompt me to contort my face into a ludicrous expression (perhaps pulling my nose and cheeks upwards toward my eyes and exaggerating the effect with a lipless smile) if for no other reason than to share a moment of solidarity with a child. In the gospel, Divine love has made me innocent again and the world is mine to discover anew as often as I am reminded of this life giving hope.

One artist who certainly understood the human longing for hope and innocence was the incomparable German choreographer, Pina Bausch, whose life and work have been celebrated by director Wim Wenders in the 3D film Pina now playing at select theaters in the city. Certain screenings at IFC and BAM will also include discussions with Mr. Wenders. As we begin the year examining BODY:LIFE at our upcoming quarterly InterArts Fellowship January 16th, this film might help to orient ourselves to the immense care and attention one can give to bodily life and expression.

Kenyon

The Artist as Theologian

Remember the days when a conversation at Starbuck’s about the deeper matters of life and longing would inevitably end with one party resolutely declaring, “Well, that’s true for you but it’s not true for me”? It seems like only yesterday that relativism reigned as the catch-all response to issues of ultimate concern from philosophy and religion to sociology and even law.

In his recent talk at InterArts Fellowship, Steven Garber sought to orient our community of artists to the times in which we live and encouraged us towards meaningful actions and conversations within our hearts, communities and world. As he does in his book, The Fabric of Faithfulness, Steve reminded us of how the Age of Enlightenment and the rationalism of the modern era have left many in contemporary society with a dulled awareness of human destiny and purpose. Yet, Garber notes, even relativism is coming under strong suspicion amid the devastating scenarios of our war-torn and disaster-prone world, not to mention the accompanying nihilism which offers a bleak and gangly vision of human flourishing.[1] Unfortunately, this dilemma has left many in our society confused, depressed and floundering for a sense of meaningful purpose for their lives. [2]

It seems that in order for the church to navigate this scenario, artists must become engaged in developing our shared understanding of both our times and our God. Cue: the artist as theologian. Clearly, God's world is not black and white. There are grey areas that cannot be packaged or easily reconciled without the use of abstract thinking and imagination.These times may require the presence and participation of artists within the church in order to know God and make him known within a culture that has lost its anchor in rationality and reason yet has grown increasingly suspicious of relativism as an easy fix to the inconsistencies between our knowledge and our experiences. As artists we tend to live in the tension between the what is and the what ought to be as we work. Our gifts and our way of seeing allow us to accept and explore mystery.

What might it look like for your work to become a context in which the mysteries of God are explored and embodied? Have you ever experienced a way of living and working in the arts that integrates and enlivens your engagement with the gospel? Will you as an artist identify with the community and calling of the people of God?

Kenyon

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[1] The Fabric of Faithfulness, Garber. After Virtue, Macintyre. Beyond Objectivism and Relativism, Bernstein.

[2] Generation Me, Twenge.

The Dialogue Continues

A friend of mine tells a story of a woman he loved and lost to a terminal illness. He recalls how he strove to make her last days so full of life. She dreamed of going to Italy, and because it was clear she would never make it there he transformed her hospital bedroom into a living Italian montage complete with a gondola! He painted the walls with scenes from Venice, Rome and Florence...all to make her feel full of life. He went on to recall being by her side as she lay dying. Offering him some of her last words, she passionately whispered, "He is Life!"

Scripture tells that He who has the son, has life (1 John 5:12). If there's one thing we are seeking in New York City it's this sense of really living: to have Life. Artists especially depend on this over- abundant sense of being alive to both suffering and joy.

Last fall we began considering six themes regarding the calling of the artist in view of the gospel. Now, as we start a new ministry year, we invite you to consider one over-arching theme which we will approach this coming Monday at InterArts Fellowship with the help of Steve Garber. The theme is simply Life, capital "L". We intend to explore this theme in four ways:

Abundant LIFE

Body LIFE

Spirit LIFE

Eternal LIFE

Through our programs, events and conversations with you we hope to explore the reality of abundance, the imminence and import of life in the body, the mystery of the spirit and the hope of eternity. Join the dialogue through quarterly gatherings of InterArts Fellowship, in Arts Vocation Groups and on our InterArts Facebook page.

Hope to see you soon. Take care in the city!

Kenyon