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Jesus
the Artist It was during the second semester of my first year at Virginia Seminary. An extremely gifted woman taught the first preaching class that I ever attended. She could hold an audience captive from beginning to end when she preached. She was a marvelous storyteller, and knew how to make the presence of Christ real and relevant to the listener. Naturally, since she was so gifted a teacher and was so highly respected by students and colleagues alike, she became almost legendary in her own right--despite the fact that she was still an active, full-time member of the faculty. Of course, there were those students who loved to share their unsolicited testimonies about their unique experiences with particular members of the faculty. A friend and I were sitting together for lunch, and he looked over at me and said, "So Allen, you're taking Judith's preaching class this year aren't you?" I responded, "Yes." His immediate response to me was "Oh----man, good luck!" I believe that at that moment I looked up to heaven and thanked my God that my friend was not responsible for my spiritual formation and development. Nevertheless, somewhat taken aback by his comment, I asked him why did he say to me, "Good luck." He proceeded to explain. Apparently, with each new incoming class there is an unscheduled, unpredictable "mystery" preaching assignment given by my gifted instructor. One in which you have absolutely no time to prepare. I suppose that this was Dr. McDaniel's [the gifted instructor's] approach to teaching extemporaneous preaching. Which is, if you will, preaching "off the cuff" or as some would say "from the heart." However, no two assignments are ever the same. As my friend described to me what his class project entailed, at best, all I could do was anticipate that something similar would happen to me. And it did! On one particular morning the class received instructions to meet the professor in Washington, DC, in front of the National Gallery of Art at 1:00 p.m. We were to either drive or take the metro into the District to meet her at the appointed time. We were also told to wear comfortable clothing and to bring a Bible. So I did. I got on the rail, but could not enjoy an otherwise pleasant ride into Washington because of some level of anxiety. I figured out that this was, without a doubt, "The Assignment." Unfortunately, I resigned myself to dwelling on the conversation that I had had with my friend over lunch just a month earlier. Thinking about that conversation did not help ease my tension, since I found it equally unpleasant as well. After we assembled in front of the National Gallery, we were taken over to a corner one block from the Gallery. We arrived at the corner to find a black wooden box setting there. Then came the assignment, "You each have five minutes to preach on any topic you want--but you must reference the Book of Joel." I thought to myself, "Well, it's over for me. I couldn't anymore tell you where Joel is in the Bible, much less preach on him." So, I did what most others did--turned to Joel and begged a blessing from God. Incidentally,
when your time came to preach, you had to stand on the box in order to
deliver the message. I thought, as if Washington, DC, needed one more
loon on its street corner. The anxiety of preaching an unprepared message,
from a book in the Bible that I had no knowledge of, in front of several
hundred passerbys, was truly an experience never to be forgotten. Standing
here today, I can still recall my fear as I stood on that corner that
busy afternoon preaching the Word of God. It was the feeling of being
terribly alone. Yes, there were others there who took their turn to preach,
but for that brief five minutes--which seemed like an eternity--I felt
alone. Yet, somewhere deep within I knew that I was never alone, but stood
in the Using a story told by the French existentialist Albert Camus, noted psychoanalysis Rollo May in his book The Courage to Create, illustrates what he calls the "two opposites of courage." This story is told through the life of an unfortunate painter.
I believe that Jesus, as manifested in his passion, comes to us as an artist--as one who creates and as one who is destined to produce a work that will transcend all generations. Yet, even as he creates, Jesus is ever mindful of the needs and fears associated with being alone, as well as those that are a result of our need to be in relationship with others. Jesus manages this tension by retreating to the mountains in order to replenish himself; yet, feeling completely abandoned when left on the cross. Such tension, however, makes Jesus the Great Artist for all of humanity, because he is not only mindful of the fears and uncertainties of others, but for himself as well. Frederick Buechner is his book, Whistling in the Dark, says:
The passion of Jesus Christ is nothing short of a beautiful masterpiece, offered to the glory of God on behalf of a shattered humanity. Without a doubt, Jesus suffers to a degree most find unimaginable. The fact that most of us could not fathom such pain isn't because we desire to pretend that humanity could never be so cruel toward one another, but because we wish not to be associated with such cruelty. Most us would lose control of our lives if we were dealt but a fraction of what Jesus encountered during the latter part of his life. Yet, we are reminded, that even while on the cross, this paradoxical mystery of God's act of redemption for the world continues to unfold. Because Christ loves us beyond measure, he chooses to be in relationship with us. Jesus gives his life, as St. Paul's says, "as a fragrant offering to God." Perhaps lodged in the mystery of the paradox of cross, lies the fact that an instrument once used for death has now become the universal symbol of the Faith for Life. Because of the paradox of the cross and the tension of being in solitary and solidarity with it, we are each able to become the artists God created us to be. I suspect that day in Washington, I allowed the feeling of "aloneness" to overshadow and overpower the Oneness I felt in Christ. Much like the artist in Albert Camus' story, its up to us to decide what we will write on the canvases of our lives. However, regardless of what we write, we know that Christ offers his life for those moments when the tension of the world and our individual lives are out of sync and unbalanced. As we prepare to enter Holy Week, let us not become so focused on the self that we overlook what God is doing in the world, and let us not focus too much on the world that we forget to notice the hand of God at work in our own lives. Bishop Robert Momeau of the Catholic Diocese of Green Bay reminds us that:
This is the great paradox of tension to which Jesus gives his life and for that we stand ever mindful, ever thankful. Amen. Copyright 2002 Calvary Episcopal Church Gospel:
Matthew 27:11-54 |
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