I spent the past few months reflecting on Luke 15 and the stories of the Lost Sheep, The Lost Coin, and the Lost Sons. Below are a series of paintings that I completed to help my reflection process. I don’t think I am done with the series yet.
The Wizard of Oz is a story of exile and return. A little girl and her dog are displaced to the magical land of Oz. She longs to return home to her Auntie Em and Uncle Henry. Three characters that she meets along the way work together to help her accomplish her goal. Each offers a gift and asks a question.
The Tin Man, made from kitchen utensils used by our church to serve the homeless for thirty years, wants a heart. He represents emotion and his gift is compassion. How do we cultivate compassion in a world that often seems cruel?
Tin Man
The Scare Crow, made from recycled fifty-year-old church pews, wants a brain. He represents the intellect and his gift is wisdom. How do we cultivate wisdom in a world that is often superficial?
The Lion, made from strips of wood that once held communion cups, wants a heart. He represents the will and his gift is courage. How do we cultivate courage to do the right thing for the community at large?
We were cleaning the kitchen at our church and discovered two drawers of utensils that had not been touched in 30 years. I rescued them from the Good Will box. It has been fun to watch the children from the block meet him for the first time.
Each winter I prune our backyard grapevine. For the past eight years, I have used the branches to create a stick sculpture. This year’s addition is a Dragon Fly. During the summer months, a dragon fly patrolled the surface of our swimming pool each morning looking for breakfast. The sculpture honors those visits and helps me to remember the joy I felt in his graceful presence.
The dragon fly joins other creatures in the parkway. They include a peacock, apply tree with snake, and a bird.
The story of Jonah has no tidy ending. The prophet sulks under his makeshift shelter while Yahweh’s question echoes across the ages, “Should I not be concerned for people who cannot tell their right hand from their left.” I pray the Lord will help not only his question, but also his compassion echo in my mind as well. May he give me courage to engage with him even when I know my logic and motivations are as misguided as Jonah’s. May he sort out my mind, heart, and will when it all feels like scrambled eggs to me. Amen
We strike a bargain, abet an unconscious one. “You are our
God and we are your people; therefore, bad things should not happen to us. Bad
things should happen to bad people.”
If there was an empire that deserved the label “bad” (and there are many), Assyria was at the top of Jonah’s list. During the seventh and eighth centuries BC, they gobbled up territory, exacted tribute, and enslaved conquered peoples. Little Israel was no match for big, bad Assyria. Unfortunately for Jonah, Israel’s god, Yahweh, had other plans. Yahweh sent his reluctant prophet to preach judgement. Jonah not only preached judgement, he expected it because ruthless Nineveh deserved it. But then the unexpected happened; the people of Nineveh, from the king down to the street beggar, repented. They went the whole nine yards with sackcloth, ashes, fasting, praying, and pleading for mercy. What were the odds that “bad people” would respond with such conviction to the preaching of a foul-smelling foreign prophet?
I spent the summer trying to get under the skin of the prophet Jonah. The result of that process was artwork, four retreat guides, and an essay. In the process Jonah got under my skin.
A small flock of peacocks live up the street. About a year ago, I made a peacock sculpture from the branches of my grape vine and placed the artwork in our front yard sculpture garden to honor the birds. This morning while eating my breakfast, I looked out the window to discover the adult male, whom I will call Percy, in the yard, admiring my artwork, or so I thought. I grabbed my camera, some birdseed, and ran outside to snap their photo together.
Percy and the Grape Vine Peacock
When I got closer, however, I observe that Percy was more enamored with his reflection in the shinny blue door of the neighbor’s BMW that was parked in front of our house. He spent fifteen minutes walking around the car and pecking at his blue reflection.
Percy Admiring His Reflection
I’m not sure who was more vain. Percy the Proud Peacock pecking his reflection or me thinking a bird found my stick sculpture attractive.
Sheep and shepherd are master images in Scripture. Sheep appear 400 times in the Bible and shepherd 100 times. As Psalm 23 says, the Lord is our shepherd and we are his sheep wandering, wayward, but greatly loved. But the Lord is also a sheep—“the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world.” The same double meaning applies to humans also. We are always sheep but some are also invited to be shepherds of God’s flock. The word “pastor” is of course Latin for “shepherd.”
Sheep and shepherd were meaningful themes for the founding members of the Pasadena Covenant Church in 1922. All of them were working class Swedish immigrants who came to the United States seeking a better life for themselves and their families. Of the 26 charter members, 18 were women. The church grew out of a women’s Bible study for Swedish women who worked as domestic servants to the wealthy of Pasadena. Almost all grew up in rural farming country. They had been around livestock. When the second sanctuary was built by the congregation in 1947, it is interesting that the children of the founders chose the image of sheep and shepherd for their stained glass windows as a way to honor their fore bearers.
Names of the original 26 charter membersNames of current members of Pasadena Covenant
In creating Betsy the Sheep, I decided to use a very common, humble
material—cardboard—to represent our past. I wrote the names of the 26 charter
members on the inside frame work on one side of the sheep’s body. On the other
side of the body, I wrote Psalm 23. On the cardboard skin, I then wrote the
names of all the current members of the church community. For the wool coat, I
used pages of a Covenant song book to suggest that the sheep exists to sing the
praises of the Lord. The songbook that I used was edited by our former music
minister Roland Tabell. Music was also important to the early members. In fact
the first sanctuary was paid for in part from the freewill offerings collected
during concerts given throughout the west coast by the founding pastor who was
a singer.
Finally the sculpture is named Betsy the Sheep after Betsy Peterson, charter member number 22. She was born in Dahlsland Sweden is 1867, immigrated to the US in 1888 at age 21. She eventually found her way to Pasadena and the women’s Bible study. At some point, she married Mr. Peterson but there is no record of him. By the time the current sanctuary was built in 1947 she had died, but the congregation thought enough of her to name the east stain glass window in honor of her. Children of the church donated their offerings to help pay for the window. Lastly, in constructing the sculpture, I discovered that I ended up hiding much of what makes the image meaningful to me. I think that is also true in real life. Our history, our relationship with God, and even our relationship with one another are hidden. As shepherds, we are called to care for not only the visible parts of the community but especially the hidden parts.
Additional Cardboard sculptures can be found here
One day a tailor named James went to his shop to sew. He gathered his needles and thread and laid them on the table. He then selected four pieces of cloth.
The first was a piece of thick black leather used in making jackets for bad-ass bikers who rode Harley Davidson motorcycles and screamed neo-Nazi slogans while roaring down the street. The needle broke in the tailor’s hand when he tried to stick it into the cloth. It was too hard.
The second piece of cloth was made of finely woven silk. The needle and thread passed through the cloth easily. But the silk was so thin that when the fibers got hot, they melted into a puddle of delusion. The only customers who bought the cloth were under-employed Hollywood starlets who thought they might benefit from a wardrobe malfunction when paparazzi flash bulbs started popping.
The third piece of cloth was a blend of fibers from the coffee bean and poison ivy plants. The needle and thread easily bound the fabric together. But after an hour, the customer would break out in a fit of hyperactive itching constantly checking their cell phones while scratching their armpits.
The fourth piece of cloth was made from one-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton. Needle and thread stitching seemed almost invisible. The tailor made a lovely cap that he wore to cover his bald head while singing songs in Central Park to nostalgic baby boomers worried about losing their social security benefits.
Introduction: Jesus had spent the day teaching and healing at the Sea of Galilee. Late in the afternoon, he said to his disciples in the boat with him, “Let’s go across to the other side of the lake.” He then proceeded to fall asleep in the back of the boat. Here is what I think happened next. (Ruah, by the way, is the Hebrew word for breath or wind. I have personified it here in the same way that we might call a storm Harvey or Irma.)
Wind Talker
From his perch on the mountain peak, Ruah looked out. Then he roared. His breath surged down the canyons and blew across the surface of the sea.
Trees fell. Dust flew. Wind howled.“Who dares cross me without asking my permission?” said He.
Seas swelled, waves crashed and seamen screamed, As their tiny boat was tossed like a cork in an angry caldron.
Some men prayed, others puked, still others pulled vainly on tattered ropes and sails.
All the while, one man slept. Unperturbed, unafraid, at ease in slumber while elemental forces raged all around Him.
“Who is it who sleeps?” said soaked sailors to one another. “Does he not care that Death shall swallow us whole?”
“Sleeper! Awake from your repose! Cry with us to the gods for mercy. Leave us not alone in the dead of night. Awake that we may perish together!”
Dream Maker opened his eyes to see twelve men whose hearts heaved with helpless fear, hopeless despair, angry anguish.
Looking skyward he said, “Lord of the Lake, what upsets you? It is I, do you not recognize me? We pass in peace. Calm down.
Then the winds ceased. The sea settled. All became quiet as the glow of dawn slowly appeared over the hills.
But twelve speechless men stood stunned. Faces white with fear and awe, knocking knees, trembling hands.
Who is it who talks to wicked winds and surging seas? Who is it who commands the breath of chaos, and it obeys? In his presence are we safe?
Who is safe with one who dangles death like keys on a chain? Who is safe with one who talks to the wind? Who is safe?
The story of Jonah has no tidy ending. The prophet sulks under his makeshift shelter while Yahweh’s question echoes across the ages, “Should I not be concerned for people who cannot tell their right hand from their left.” I pray the Lord will help not only his question, but also his compassion echo in my mind as well. May he give me courage to engage with him even when I know my logic and motivations are as misguided as Jonah’s. May he sort out my mind, heart, and will when it all feels like scrambled eggs to me. Amen
