All Saints Day

Commemorating all saints, known and unknown, on November 1:

"Therefore, having so vast a cloud of witnesses
surrounding us, and throwing off everything
that hinders us and especially the sin
that so easily entangles us, let us
keep running with endurance
the race set before us,"

Hebrews 12:1
(International Standard Version ©2008)

Seen above, "All Saints" by the Rev. Scott Fisher,
St. Matthews, Fairbanks.

Mary's Song

Mary's song is her response to her cousin Elizabeth's spirited greeting, but it is more than that. It comes from deep inside her. It knits together in a new way the sacred experience and language and hope of her people like pieces of a quilt transformed from scraps to splendor.

Nowhere in this song do we hear the name of her child, but somehow he is there in every phrase. Mary's song is not hers alone; it is the song of the child who wants to come, who comes to do the will of God. This song echoes in the events of her son's life, his death, and his exaltation. The song celebrates the God who keeps promises -- not only to Abraham, but also to us.

The Church has picked up this song and sung it often, particularly in daily evening worship. Mary's song, The Magnificat, is a central text in the liturgy of the historic Church. Who knows what number of settings musicians have composed for it through the years? Who knows how many voices have joined with Mary’s in singing her song through the centuries? From "The Song of Divine Triumph" by the Rev. Charles Hoffacker. Read it all HERE.

Image: "Magnificat" by Virginia Wieringa

Understanding the Role of Art Today

The Art Blog at Episcopal Cafe ...

This week, Mel Ahlborn offers visual prayer in the form of a Laura Fisher Smith icon. She says "Smith's icons of the homeless, such as the one seen above, proclaim what she values most, and bluntly reveal her concern for the marginalized, the sick and the needy. With a creative vision filled with both mercy and advocacy, she paints individual persons who are homeless with a dignity and grace once reserved for saints."

Followed by The Episcopalians for Global Reconciliation Prayer, the post lights up the heart.

"...Open our eyes to the structures of oppression from which we benefit, and give us courage to accept our responsibility, wisdom to chart a sound course amid complexity, and perseverance to continue our work until it is finished."

Read it all HERE

Paying Attention

"In Verona, Italy, there is an alley that leads off the main street into a small courtyard below the famous balcony on which Juliet is supposed to have appeared to Romeo. Along the walls of the alley leading to the courtyard are layers of post-it notes, placed there to commemorate loved ones and romances.

The texture of the wall of notes is very appealing, so I took several photographs, but there were so many tourists that it was hard to get the wall without them and without being jostled by them. None of the shots I got were particularly crisp, but this one seemed to be the best of the bunch. It's not very exciting -- there's no obvious center of interest -- but I like the texture, the color, and the light." Read more HERE.

Image and words by Diane Walker.

Prayer

"Prayer does not mean simply to pour out one's heart. It means rather to find the way to God and to speak with him, whether the heart is full or empty." From Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Psalms: The Prayer Book of the Bible

Seen above: "Pour Out The Heart" by C. Robin Janning

Why?

"I have often wondered why I am called black. And what purpose it serves to refer to any group by the amount of melanin in their skin?

... I am called black, and listen to country music most of the time, jazz, and classical every now and then, have mixed relatives, went to mixed schools, live in a mixed neighborhood, eat pizza, tuna, tacos, turkey or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I believe in people, focused work, productive play and self honesty. I play no sports but favor cooperative exercises over competitive ones. I create art that sings hope, beauty, and the complications of simplicity."

Words and Image by Jerome Lawrence
Seen above: "Tulips are People VII"

Reflections On Living Water

The Art Blog at Episcopal Cafe ...

by John Holliger

"All my life I have journeyed up the chanting river of life to find the Source. Such bliss of searching for that One who is just around the next boulder… and find that One already flowing freely within me. You in me and I in you." MORE>>

Seen above: Words and image by John Holliger

Autumn

Joan Chittister reminds us, “Today, Sept. 22, we celebrate the autumn equinox, the only day of the year in which daytime and nighttime are of exactly equal length. From now on daytime will begin to wane. But there is nothing to fear from this diminishment of the kind of life associated with sunlight. The nighttimes of life have their beauty and their lessons, too.”

Seen above, "The Golden Hour" by Brie Dodson

Blessing

"The beauty of blessing is that it recognizes no barriers—and no distances. All the given frontiers of blockage that separate us can be penetrated by the loving subtlety of blessing."

Photograph by The Rev. Scott Fisher, St. Mattews, Fairbanks
Text by John O'Donohue in "To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings"

Not Only One Thing

we are not
only one thing
not just measured line,
not just wild abandoned curve,
neither color, nor "no color."

we are assemblages of light and shadow
divine constructions built to remind
...the Lord is with/in us.

Image: "Untitled" by Moses Hoskins
painting and drawing media on canvas
54 x 80 inches

Words: C. Robin Janning

Voice Within

I just wanted to share this self-portrait titled Voice Within. I was
inspired by this quote:

“Do not follow the ideas of others, but learn to listen to the voice
within yourself.
Your body and mind will become clear and you will realize the unity
of all things.”
Dogen (1200 - 1253)

Japanese religious leader

Being surrounded by strong, unyielding ideals, I have learned to
listen my voice within.

This "listening" has blossomed within me. This precious gift has
helped me become more aware of the awesome beauty and wisdom of God's
world. My heart sings.

Image and words by Jeanelle McCall, all rights reserved

Our Secret Gardens

"Awaken to the mystery of being here
and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.
Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.
Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon.
Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to follow its path."

by John O'Donohue in "To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings"

Seen above "Secret Garden" by Diane Walker

Touching Source

"In the early Christian Church, mysticism means something much more akin to unitive seeing. It's not so much 'make me one with everything;' but that you see the unity underlying and holding all the diversity. Rather than getting lost in the forms of consciousness, you experience consciousness itself, directly, as reality. You travel upstream on the river of consciousness and join God at that point of origin where Being, differentiation, form, begin to emerge out of that great, endless stillness of the divine abyss; where Being tumbles out of non-Being. That's the mystical journey back to Source. But the journey doesn't end there. Having touched Source, you then flow out from it, seeing and witnessing to the unity underlying the diversity… and helping to give shape and voice to the new expressions of divine creativity as it cascades (as it does) into form." By the Rev. Cynthia Bourgeault. Read more at http://www.contemplative.org/homily.pdf

Seen above: "Long Way Home" by Brie Dodson

Communicating with Images

The Art Blog at Episcopal Cafe ...

We can say so much with a single image that dozens of words can only hope to accomplish. In the late 19th century, Ivan Turgenev (Russian author of Fathers and Sons) aptly wrote , "A picture shows me at a glance what it takes dozens of pages of a book to expound." In the west, we are more familiar with the proverb "A picture says a thousand words." Both phrases refer to the idea that complex stories can be described with just a single still image, or that an image may be more influential than a substantial amount of text. Read More>>

Seen above: "Seek First" by Jan Neal. Jan Neal works primarily in digital painting, design and photography with digital liturgical design and symbol as her primary areas of ecclesiastical artistic interests. Her work has been featured in Episcopal Life, the Morehouse Publishing Christian Planning Calendar, EpiscopalChurch.org, The Apostle, Episcopal Church & Visual Arts, and in a Museum of Biblical Art presentation. Jan was also a curator and contributing artist for Visual Preludes 2006. More of her work may be seen in ECVA’s archived exhibitions, and ECVA’s web site Contacts. She is Exhibitions Director for ECVA and produces the publicity for her parish, Emmanuel Episcopal Church. More of her work can be seen here.

Outstaring The Dark

by Diane Walker


I remember vividly that one of the pleasures of childhood summers was to stay outside until the last rays of light were gone from the summer sky; playing badminton til you could no longer see the birdie, or playing hide and seek until no-one could be found at all and the dark became a lonely place.

We were reveling in the moment then, enjoying ourselves so much we barely noticed as the light slipped away. And I find now, as summer draws to a close and the light begins to fade earlier and earlier, that I am drawn as I was in childhood to sit up with the neighbors, watching from our back decks and talking quietly as the clouds begin to shimmer, then slide into darkness. READ MORE>>

As seen above, photograph by Diane Walker

Mercy

"Mercy is God's innermost being turned outward
to sustain the visible and created world in unbreakable love."

Words by The Rev. Cynthia Bourgeault in "Mystical Hope: Trusting in the Mercy of God."
Image: Like A River by C. Robin Janning

Collaborative Liturgical Art

The Art Blog at Episcopal Cafe ...

St. Peters Episcopal Church, Beverly, Massachusetts
The Rev. Manuel P. Faria III, Rector

By Kendyll Hillegas
This past fall my husband Eric and I worked with a group of young adults at St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Beverly, Massachusetts. We had one main goal: to explore what it means to lead lives that matter. We hammered out this goal in several different ways, by working at the church's already-established Sunday night supper for the homeless, by getting involved collaboratively in another installation at a mental health unit at a local hospital, and by alternating our weeks of work with weeks of study and discussion. We found many common threads in each of these endeavors, but the common thread of incarnation, of Christ's being made human and coming to us as a baby at Advent was what we decided to focus on for the capstone of our group's time together that fall. Thus, as we began thinking and imagining what we might create in the nave, the installation became an opportunity for the tying together in an intellectual and physical way of the incarnation of Christ at Advent. More

Transfigured

"The Greek word used in the New Testament accounts of the events on the Mount of the Transfiguration is metamorphothe. While the ages have translated that word as transfigured, it actually comes closer to conveying something English can't quite convey. It wants to say something like 'changed shape and beingness and allness into some other form thereof,' or something equally awkward and wordy. What happened, in other words and in the fullest sense, was a "metamorphosis," which again is Greek and again has no really clear or felicitous analog in English."

Words by Phyllis Tickle in "The Indescribable Drama of Transfiguration"

Image: "Transfigured" by C. Robin Janning

Communion of Saints

"The communion of the saints is a kind place. It is a world to which we are all connected at our best places, uniting us in the best love we have, a love from which we who remain here often sag away, but from which they never do. They wish us well and they do us good, seeing as they do that we are capable of better things than we often show forth."

"Who would not want to sit for twenty minutes in that restorative kindliness before a long work day begins, or after another hard one has ended?"

As seen above: Images by The Rev. Scott Fisher, St. Matthew's, Fairbanks, Alaska.

Words by The Rev. Barbara Crafton (The Almost Daily eMo from Geranium Farm.org)

Honoring the Dark

In Owning Your Own Shadow Robert A. Johnson examines the Jungian concept of how shadow exists in all of us, and that there is a balance we need to maintain between the light and the dark, creation and destruction, up and down, female parts of ourselves (anima) and male parts of ourselves (animus) and all the polarities of existence. The point of honoring the shadow is to keep it from erupting and destroying our lives. In so explaining this balance Johnson makes a most interesting observation about the incorporation of this concept in the Catholic Mass: "The Catholic Mass is a masterpiece of balancing our cultural life. If one has the courage to see, the Mass is full of the darkest things: there is incest, betrayal, rejection, torture, death - and worse. All this leads to revelation but not until the dark side has been portrayed as vividly as possible. If one went to Mass in high consciousness one would tremble at the awfulness of it - and be redeemed by its balancing effect. The Mass lost much of its effectiveness when it was modernized and made to serve the cultural process. One ought to be pale with terror at the Mass."

I admit that I am a modern. A kneeling Rite IIer. But as a journalism major turned lawyer I have spent a lifetime trying to get clearly and concisely from point A to point B and have made a career out of eliminating legaleze (legal disease). To that end I am somewhat uncomfortable humbly beseeching and am downright offended at saying that I am not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. I don't mind if you like that language; I just don't. I admit that I have gotten myself in hot water with a number of Rite Iers who want me to observe the beauty of the language and learn some humility.

Still, Johnson's point is well taken. I think that we gloss over so much of our shadows at church, we have to honor our shadows elsewhere. I think that Sam Shoemaker, the Episcopal priest instrumental in the creation of AA said it best in What the Church has to Learn from Alcoholics Anonymous.

Johnson indicates that after the balancing effect of the Mass was eliminated "we rely on less effective ways of balancing today. Horror movies, gangster epics, violence, the fashion of something garish or shocking in our headlines, the popularity of murder mysteries - all of these compensate for our high productivity and creativity. But these are clumsy elements compared to the fine works of art of earlier cultures."

The photograph above honors the dark and oddly served to examine my shadow's fascination with this image of what looks like a monster - actually a cicada - perched on the head of the blessed Mother Mary statue who stands guard at the entrance of my garden. Read about the symbolism of the cicada, to include its Christian symbolism and enjoy the irony of this image captured by my shadow at The Sacred and the Profane.

Joy in God's Creation

For Joy in God's Creation

"O heavenly Father, who hast filled the world with beauty: Open our eyes to behold thy gracious hand in all thy works; that, rejoicing in thy whole creation, we may learn to serve thee with gladness; for the sake of him through who all things were made, thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen"

From the Book of Common Prayer, page 814

Nature's Child

"Let us thank the Earth
That offers ground for home
And holds our feet firm
To walk in space open
To infinite galaxies."

Words by John O'Donohue in
To Bless the Space Between Us:
A Book of Blessings

Image: Nature's Child by Barbara Desrosiers

Air

"... home of memory where
Our vanished days secretly gather,
Receiving every glance, word, and act
That fall from presence,
Taking all our unfolding in,
So that nothing is lost or forgotten."

Words by John O'Donohue,in
To Bless the Space Between Us:
A Book of Blessings

Photograph by The Rev. Scott Fisher,
St. Matthew's, Fairbanks, Alaska

Minding The Gap

Image/altar frontal by Tracy Byrne of Changing Attitude

All Rights Reserved

News from our friends at Integrity and Changing Attitude from Lambeth 2008. Thanks to Katie Sherrod for the following thoughts:

For one brief tiny second, I think there was a rainbow over the green field where the Integrity/Changing Attitude Eucharist took place this afternoon before a crowd of 160 people, including 33 bishops. The Canterbury Cathedral loomed dramatically over the trees beyond the altar.

It was a cool blustery mostly sunny afternoon interrupted occasionally by brief light showers of rain. As the second shower was passing, the sun came out, creating a rainbow just as I glanced up. I grabbed my photographer's arm, but it was gone before I could get words out.

Did I imagine it? Was it wishful thinking?

It seemed much too apt to be true, that tiny glimpse of color, so I'm assuming I imagined it. One often feels that way in the Anglican Communion – thinking one has glimpsed some hope only to find it was aan illusion.

But this afternoon, there was one genuine icon of hope for LGBT folks, and that was Bishop Gene Robinson, striding across the road from St. Stephens encircled by a small group of bishops come to stand in solidarity with him at the service....continued at Walking With Integrity blog.

Posted by Jan Neal; content by Katie Sherrod; image by Tracy Byrne

Blessed Source

From Brother Wayne Teasdale:

O Blessed Source, eternal Lord of creation,
sustainer of all worlds,
you embrace the whole cosmos within yourself,
for everything exists in you.

Let your winds come and breathe your everlasting Spirit in us.
Let us inhale your divine Spirit and be inspired.
Enlighten us in your truth.
Pour your grace into our hearts.
Wipe away our sin and all negativity.

Transform us into your Love,
and let us radiate that Love to all others.
Inflame us with your unending life.
Dissolve our limited way of being.
Elevate us into your divine Life.
Give us your capacity to share that Life with everyone.

Shape us in your wisdom.
Grant us your joy and laughter.
Let us become that divine wisdom, sensitivity,
laughter and joy for all beings.

Let us realize fully that we are members
of that Sacred Community
with all humankind, with other species,
with nature and the entire cosmos.

Grant us a heart that can
embrace them all in you.

Let us be in communion with you
forever in the bliss of that Love:
the Love that sustains all
and transforms all
into your Divine Radiance.

Amen

On view above: Blessed Source, ©2008, C. Robin Janning
Quotation by Brother Wayne Teasdale

Morning Glory

From Thomas Merton: If I had no choice about the age in which I was to live, I nevertheless have a choice about the attitude I take and about the way and the extent of my participation in its living ongoing events. To choose the world is not then merely a pious admission that the world is acceptable because it comes from the hand of God. It is first of all an acceptance of a task and a vocation in the world, in history and in time. In my time, which is the present. (Thomas Merton. Contemplation in A World of Action, New York: Doubleday & Company, 1973)

From Rabbi Rami Shapiro: Cultivating grace is a bit of a paradox. You cannot get what you always and already have. There is noting you can or need do to merit grace. All you need do is accept grace. The reason this is so difficult for us is that our hands are full. We are burdened by carrying the past and future around with us wherever we go, and have no room for the grace of the present moment. Cultivating grace means putting down the burden of time, and opening our hands to the timeless now.(Rabbi Rami Shapiro, The Sacred Art of Lovingkindness:Preparing to Practice; forward by Marcia Ford, SkyLight Paths Publishing, 2006)

When I write and think about art, I often use the words acceptance, vocation, grace, and now. Thomas Merton and Rabbi Shapiro are my teachers. What they teach me about art is transmitted from heart to heart; soul to soul. Be here, be now. Listen. Accept grace. Give it all back. Start again each morning... each moment.

Words and Image by C. Robin Janning

Infinity

Out where cascading hues and pigments
Streak across a distant
Palette

Out where evolving shapes and forms
Merge and sing in harmonic
Rhapsody

Out where Earth and sky
Breathe as one with each
Master stroke

Out on that phantom edge
God paints a demonstration of
Infinity

- Rejoice in God's infinite love! -

As seen above: Image and text © by Claudia Smith, All Rights Reserved.
Posted by C. Robin Janning

Art Of The Soul

like the breath
moving in and out
like sleeping and waking
stopping and then running
emotion splashes and swims
flies and crashes
from an edge
of the brush

As seen above: words and image by C. Robin Janning
©2008, All Rights. Reserved.

Rose Chapel

At four o’clock on a rainy afternoon, the interior of the Rose Chapel was nearly dark. A few candles, and of course the sanctuary lamp, burned though and gave me all the light I needed to know that I was home. The moment was epiphanic, and I was filled with memory and love and confidence in a Ground of Being.

The emotion and spirit of the moment caused me to raise my camera with some hope that I might bring a few images away with me. That would have been enough. To look at an image and remember the moment. But now I find that the image holds more than the memory of a moment.

It’s been two years since that trip to Rose Chapel. But in the way I choose one paint over another, one medium or tool over others, I chose this photograph tonight. With it, I chose another. Nothing complicated. Rather mundane really, the photograph of a rose; thus ensuing a fairly elementary play on words—Rose Chapel/rugosa rose.

As a photographer and as an artist, I worked with these two images to bring one more into life. Color and line and form were my guides—most visible guides. I had no theological agenda. Determined by some amount of time "looking," it was finished.

Then, I listened. I listened to the conversation between the work of my hands and the work of my heart. There I found a theological pause. A moment, when I saw my fragile understanding of the Ground of Being grow not because of searching, but because of working.

Working in the ordinary way of art.

As seen above: words and image by C. Robin Janning

Darsana

I have been haunted for a week by what the Hindu would call a "Darsana" which, loosely translated, means "visions of the divine". This First Sunday in Lent, as we sang Forty Days and Forty Nights, I was again reminded of this incredible sight when we got to the verse which contains the words "Victor in the wilderness, grant we may not faint or fall."

So what was this vision of the divine? I wish I could show you; I wish I had been prepared to take the photo, one of those once in a lifetime photos.

I am one of those lucky souls who get to travel the beautiful back roads and highways of Alabama as I go about my job. In addition to providing me with much savored time alone, this beautiful state provides a virtual feast of God's creation. As I drove the other week, I glanced over to the side of the road where, on an old oak , sat the largest Red-tailed Hawk I have ever seen. It had to have been at least three feet tall. I understand that they can reach 26 inches, but this one seemed much taller. I see hawks all the time; they are not strangers to the side roads, where they sit and watch for prey along the roadside. What was so stunning about this hawk was that I did not see it as a predator, watching for prey; I only saw the majesty of this incredible creature. He or she, I know not which, sat so still, not flinching, as cars and trucks whipped by at breakneck speeds, totally at peace where it was at that moment in time. The large tallons wrapped around the branch of the old oak, wings tucked securely back against its body, silently observing all who passed by. My initial thought was what a day to forget your camera - you will never have that opportunity again. As my day passed and I thought about the hawk, it occurred to me that the hawk reminded me of God, silently observing as we pass through this life. Watching, waiting, to see if we notice him. With more time to reflect on this experience, I have concluded that perhaps I should not view this as the photo that got away. Perhaps it was to be forever etched in my mind's eye as a constant reminder to always be aware of the visions of the divine, least we miss the Victor in the wilderness.

by Dawn Glascock ©2008

Living Outloud ...Advent and Beyond

"I am an artist. I am here to live out loud." Emile Zola, 1840-1902

Amen! It took me a long time to have the courage to utter that first sentence, and even longer toproclaim the other--but now, look out sister! I have been placed here very deliberately by my God, and my living out loud is meant to serve and glorify him. Some people may look at me and not understand me, but I need only be acceptable to God. And I revel in him.

" 'Consider the lilies of the field' is the only commandment I ever obeyed." Emily Dickinson 1830-1866

The beauty of aging is being able to recognize righteousness and to choose to follow down its path. We think more critically and oft times carve out our own path. Should we be self-righteous and decide on our own set of rules for living? No, but 'Consider the lilies of the field' does actually encapsulate all the commandments if you think about it. So we aging persons, especially artists, can reshape our worldview. We see God's hand in all areas of our lives, even if we reframe our doctrine.

"For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Psalm 139:13-14 NRSV

Getting older, expressing myself more vocally and artistically, and losing much through life crises, I am re-examining, once again, my origins. Thinking about my dad who died last year. Wondering about my effect on the world. Marvelling at the 'me' that was created. The knitting motif (I think about a Kaffe Fassett piece) is so a propos. And strangely, I don't see the second half of my life as a garment unravelling. Matting in places, perhaps. Developing moth holes in others. But definitely reflecting my original creation and the purpose for which God made me. I take comfort in the fact that he knew me before my birth. I am not lost.

"Mary didn't write a theological treatise. She had a baby." Kathleen Norris

I heard Kathleen Norris speak at her book launch recently (see recommendation in endnote), and her astute and dry wit filled me with the fuel I need to get through this Christmas--I will fill up during Advent. I need artistic fuel too; it's the only way I will survive the season. I need to channel my energy into something creative. Even if it's my secret bad poetry or collage projects. I need the basics to create the basics. I need to repeat Bruce Cockburn's carol refrain 'Mary had a baby, My Lord' over the 36 days of Advent and Christmas. It's all very well to say, Oh, I won't get caught up in all that commercialism. But even beyond that, I need an incarnational frame of reference for the season and my life. Mary had a baby. I reflect back on the pain of childbirth but quickly dismiss the memory--that is too bodily present! I need to go through some new birth pangs myself, not wax and wane on things religious because it's a season of waiting. As Norris said, artists are always waiting. And we can't wait for more money, more time, more inspiration. We need to create now. I cut pictures out of reject magazines in the laundry room. I carry a notebook always and jot down random thoughts and phrases. It must be done when it must be done.

"Christ must increase in me and I must diminish." Kathleen Norris

I have come along as far as knowing I have nothing but Christ. But these words really burned a hole in my heart. This active relationship requires me to facilitate his increase in me and to diminish myself. Not my selfhood, which God has created, and which needs much care and nurturing at the moment. But my self-ness, the spiritual equivalent to fat cells sludging up my arteries. I need an angiogram! My advent cannot come unless I clear a path for it. I need the coming to enable the emmanuel; hopefully the epiphany will be directive.

Are you an artist? Are you living out loud? It is our duty. Creativity is our product and our raison d'etre. Honour God's gift to you by reflecting his own joy in Creation. Be loud. Be incarnational. It is the best Christmas gift we can bring him, poor as we are.

Go here to learn more about the above-mentioned new book, co-authored my Kathleen Norris, author of the classics The Cloister Walk, Amazing Grace, and Dakota.

Image and words by Vanessa Wells, ©2008

Christian Graffiti

"According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it. Each builder must choose with care how to build on it." 1 Corinthians 3:10

Art is not created in a vacuum. Each of us builds on the work of those who have gone before us, adding our own unique vision to a larger body.

This photograph was taken in the Temple of Dendera. North of Luxor, in Egypt, this temple looks like many ancient Egyptian temples, but all is not as it seems. Just as a neo-gothic church was built to harken back to the mystery of gothic churches built centuries earlier, this temple was built by the Ptolemies who ruled Egypt from 305 BCE to 30 BC. They were a Greek family who came to rule Egypt following Alexander the Great's conquest. The Ptolemies built new buildings in the style of the ancient Egyptians of 2,000 years earlier. This picture is of the hypostyle hall with its 18-Hathor Columns supporting a roof decorated with astrological scenes. This Ptolemaic temple was built on the foundations of a temple that probably dated to Khufu from around 2570 BCE. The temple was begun by the Ptolemies and completed by the Roman Emperor Tiberius who reigned during Jesus' lifetime.

It is neither purely Egyptian nor Greek, but a Greek interpretation of the glory of Egypt. Then graffitied on this column is a cross from a time when the hall was used for Christian worship. The cross is carved so that a Egyptian God is holding it aloft giving the old column yet a new interpretation. Then adding its own layer of meaning, I photographed the hall with light slanting through the old temple thinking of how each of us builds on what has gone before.

Like every work of art, the photograph is as much my autobiography as anything. Each work is another page in the diary of the artist as the choices made in creating a piece all reflect the creator. Each layer from Khufu, to Ptolemies, to Tiberius, to Christian graffiti, to a contemporary photograph leaves meaning hidden within the finished print. Each layer the diary entry of an artist contributing to a much larger work.

See more photos from this series.

Image and words by The Rev. Frank Logue, Vicar, ©2008
King of Peace Episcopal Church
Kingsland, Georgia

This Time Tomorrow

Today we discover beauty. This time tomorrow we will remember that beauty, and ever after braid its truth with our own prayers and persistence.

Gregory Wolfe, editor and publisher of Image Journal writes in his Editorial Statement for Issue # 56: "Beauty allows us to penetrate reality through the imagination, through the capacity of the imagination to perceive the world intuitively." He continues: "Beauty also has the capacity to help us to value the good, especially the goodness of the most ordinary things. The greatest epics, the most terrible tragedies, all have one goal: to bring us back to the ordinary and help us to love and to cherish it. Odysseus encounters Circe, Cyclops, the sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, but his real destination is home and the marital bed that makes it his place in the world."

As seen above: "This Time Tomorrow" by C. Robin Janning

Flying

there is still
that star in the sky
leading us

and still we carry
a dream of gifts
and arrival

while wrapped around
we are held with wings
made to uplift

then flying
we reach out
for you

Words and Image by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

Spacious Mind

"The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,
and rejoice with joy and singing." Isaiah 35:1

Cultivating an open, a spacious, mind allows us to see the desert and oasis as one. In so doing we never lose hope, but are mindful always of possibility. But, what if peace and war are one in possibility? Then, we must not only cultivate hope, but also actively make choices that lead to peace and not war. Keep hope. Choose peace. Love.

Words and Image by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

While We Wait

"for yours is creation and compassion and
community now and forever. Amen"

It’s Advent and we are waiting. Sometimes it seems that the gifts all come at the end of the season. But no. Look now and you will see glimmers of light. Pieces of that which is to come. Clear a little space around you as you wait. Then, watch it fill up with wonder and joy.

This is light, brought by the eyes into the heart. This is the art of Nancy Chinn, along with the words of Connie Maas. More can be seen at Nancy Chinn’s web site. Look also at the Washington National Cathedral web site for another gift from Nancy: "A Banner Year." And, for even more of Nancy Chinn’s art, search the Art and Faith Database at ECVA.org.

As seen above: Art by Nancy Chinn and words from the prayer "Our Mother" by Connie Maas.

Prayer Plant

"The world now has the means
to end extreme poverty,
we pray we will have the will.

This is the prayer offered on the
web site "Counting Prayers."

Image by C. Robin Janning All Rights Reserved.

Flooded

Well, it's only fair that a sabbatical predicated on an aqueous motif should start with bailing water. Here's where I've been: Swabbing the decks!

My sabbatical began with the reclaiming of a much-loved, calmative former studio space. I've missed it a lot, and I'm glad to be back. Early on, I even posted a sign outside the door: "The Refuge."

The Refuge promptly flooded - again and again and again. I moved in an easel with rubber feet, gave thanks that much of the rest was already on wheels, and continued onward. Tonight I am, in fact, tapping these computer keys in The Refuge, at a spacious, comfortable desk that my husband used throughout his childhood and a bit beyond. Now the drawers are filled with porcelain palettes, printmaking tools, tubes of watercolor paint. The legs of the desk are up on little glides. Good thing, as a bit of water continues to accumulate.

Because I can imagine my husband using this desk as a brilliant, intent young man, it gives me a warm feeling to sit here; but my feet are damp with water that seeped up through the floor tiles, and then through the soles of my normally cozy houseshoes and thick cotton socks.

In the wake of the first flood - a clue that things might not go as planned - came a tsunami of other demands: health problems for a loved one who is reliant on our care; new and urgent needs from others; unwelcome stresses that descended unannounced; many strains and fault lines that had lain buried in the sand before. A painful time.

Well, I'm still here. Now, I hope I'm finally getting down to the business of life: calm, creation, and listening. Those are the things I need.

Lately, I've acquired an insistence on working from life. That's apt, as I have been fairly well desperate to recapture my own life. Most painters, me included, will tell you that working from the life is always preferable anyway; everything you need is right there in front of your eyes, and you have only to see it. That is not the case with working from reference photos, which may seem to capture so much and yet reveal so little. I still prize my trove of photographs, but perhaps for different reasons. More and more I tend to look through a sheaf of visual reference, then put it away and paint what I want to see.

It has become satisfying to work from a single motif, reworked and refined from memory and imagination, over and over; as Degas did in his last works, while his sight steadily diminished. I have waded into painting what is in my mind. The challenge is rigorous, but comforting. And, I have taken a perverse (and characteristic) turn toward obstinacy. I can't seem to paint anything casually any more.

My, that sounds dour. I'm sure the phase will pass.

I'll post images when they are ready. However, the yeast in them is still bubbling away. The heat of the oven raises the yeast's creation to its greatest heights, and then kills it. You can see why I'm in no hurry to go there.

© 2007, Brie Dodson

Blooms

A garden blooms inside the heart. Sadness sits alongside serenity, which sits alongside passion. All together creating life-giving, life-remembering breath.

Image and words by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

Entering The Heart

This is the day which the Lord hath made;
we will rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24

My Father wrote these words from Psalm 118 in a card to me recently, on my birthday. The words entered my heart and carved a graceful trail made of memory, imagination, and faith. I am grateful to him for the repetition of words for which I have reverence, and also for his demonstration of a certain kind of energy.

So much enters the heart. Marks are made; scars and trails are forged. Some detours end in blind confusion. But love, when entering the heart, always finds a path that nourishes and continues.

Image and words by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

Giving Thanks

Introduction

My friend, Barbi Tinder, captures nature in the most astounding ways with her camera. She does the same with her words. Together she creates an image that perfectly captures this time of year. Late Fall is a time of mist, brilliant angled light and a Thanksgiving realization of how God provides water to quench the thirst of turkeys and deer. Through her eyes and words we can agree with her that "the outdoors is god's cathedral."

Mist and Sunbeams by Barbi Tinder
(all rights reserved)

This morning was one of those magical times. For me they are a reward for tolerating the brief daylight hours. God frosted my part of the world last night. I had a wonderful time early this very cold morning capturing snippets with my camera. Then as the sun occasionally made an appearance from behind the clouds the neighborhood turned into a crystal fairyland.

I'm sending you another photo from yesterday morning. I almost could not walk up the hill fast enough. I felt like I was chasing an illusion. I had to keep the right angle of light to get the reflection of the frost as it turned to liquid on the needles of the line trees. As I walked back down the hill the drops dripping off the trees sounded like a babbling brook in springtime. What a joy!

As one who does not adjust well to the short daylight hours, the late days of fall can get discouraging. This year the turkeys and a young deer are visiting our crabapple tree for the drops, and a morning like yesterday just nourishes the soul!

Image and words, ©2007, Barbi Tinder
Introduction by Jan Neal

We Thirst

Psalm 42:1 As the deer pants for the stream*
art is a glass that holds
the wine the water
that offers the hope
the taste of Spirit
the coming home

*Image By Jesse P. Mark. Original oil on canvas, 12 x 36 inches with calligraphy of the Psalm in both Hebrew and English. This image is one of eleven paintings in the series "Landscape of the Psalms" hanging in the church school rooms at Christ Church Cathedral in Lexington, KY. The artist states: "Landscape of the Psalms combines American landscapes with calligraphy from the Psalms because when I hike the trails across America I am reminded of the plentiful wordpictures of the Psalms."

Words by C. Robin Janning

Serenity In The Communion Of Saints

Ah, my dear friends and fellow saints, I am, yet again, behind the seasonal power curve. However, I have had the communion of saints on my mind for days as I always do at this time of year. I am not sure of the reason, but the communion of saints is one of my favorite theological concepts. It may be due to a longing to be part of something larger than myself; it may be longing for those I love who have passed from this life; it may be a backward longing for what is to come on Earth after I am gone. It may be a manifestation of sensucht, the inexpressible longing examined by C. S. Lewis.

On page 862 of the Book of Common Prayer we are given a definition of the communion of saints:

Q. What is the communion of saints?

A. The communion of saints is the whole family of God, the living and the dead, those whom we love and those whom we hurt, bound together in Christ by sacrament, prayer, and praise.

Interesting...those we love and those we hurt!

I have a vision of the communion of saints. I sit in my little stone church with fellow church members and imagine saints like Mary Magdalene, Mother Mary, Francis & Clare, and John the Baptist present in a translucent embracing mist along with my father, uncle, grandparents I knew, grandparents and great-grandparents I did not know. Similarly I envision the presence of Shelly Ross, Sarah Glenn Pitts and the Jeter Sisters (local parish saints) . I also imagine the translucent presence of people who have not yet been born but will one day take my place on the heart pine bench I now occupy and stroke the old wood and treasure the hand carved cross on the base of the bench while they feel my embrace. No one left out; no one on the outside looking in; all reconciled; the closest thing my feeble humanity can imagine to all longing fulfilled, all tears wiped from our eyes and heaven on earth. Oh how pleasant it is to imagine the gathering of those I love!

But what about those I hurt? And why not those who hurt me?

Is it possible that those I hurt are present in the communion to give me another chance to make right errors in things I have done and left undone - an opportunity for honor that I might know perfect peace and joy? Is it possible that we have individual, or relative communions and that those who hurt me without reconciliation are not part of my communion? After all the communion represents union through love, and love and pain cannot co-exist. Is that reasonable? I don't know, but I can certainly imagine how this gathering would be soiled by the dishonorable presence of someone who visited evil upon me without remorse.

The presence of those I hurt and the absence of those who hurt me in the communion remind me of the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Perhaps the communion of saints is an opportunity to experience Wisdom, to right wrongs and forget that which we cannot change, and know serenity. I will have to ponder this a bit before I will comprehend the inclusion of those I hurt and the absence of those who hurt me. In the meantime I ask for your thoughts - the thoughts of my fellows in the communion. What do you make of the composition of the communion?

Image "Sanctus Circle" and words by Jan Neal. ©2007, All Rights Reserved.

And Then

flying to you
my heart
filled with love
and longing
prayers and
tear-polished
dreams

Image and words by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

Sea Change

It's been a long time since I've posted here. So many things got in the way. Now I'm trying to put life to rights. I've let the waters slip over me, and I'm waiting for a sea change. Here's what Shakespeare wrote in The Tempest to coin that term:

"Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange."

More recently, we take a sea-change to mean a mystical and profound transformation. Well, this past spring I faced "full fathom five," and a sea-change has been calling to me.

A couple of weeks ago, I took a walk all alone on the beach in early morning. Just me and the sea-birds, a mug of hot coffee, and a warm, smooth rock for a seat in the brightening sun. Best coffee I'd ever tasted. I never wanted to leave. The shoreline, the horizon, the birds gathering unperturbed all around me; that was all I thought about. The only human sounds were my own slow, quiet steps on the wet sand. Nobody hurrying me. I knew it was time to surrender.

So, with the warm support of my dear friends at ECVA, I've embarked on a sabbatical. It's a voyage to a place unknown. I won't come back the same as before; facing down "full fathom five" has called for many changes in my life. I need a permanent slower pace. More quiet. Less stress. More of the right kind of listening - the unhurried kind, with no expectations, only receptivity. More of that "human touch" Bruce Springsteen wrote about.

A good friend of mine, a brilliant light in my soul, laid down one of his last drum tracks on "Human Touch." His hands on the drum set make the song both spooky and compelling. My friend has gone his full fathom five.

One thing I need to do on my sabbatical is understand how dear ones - like my friend, and others - can be here and then not here. But for the grace of God, I would not be here myself. My oldest son, Joren, saved my life. So I need to understand how it can be that I was on the border of here and gone, and then came back. And, how it can be that I gave life to someone who, many years later, literally gave life to me. It's hard to make sense of all that.

Isn't it strange how water seems so important to both healing and change? When John the Baptist immersed Jesus in the River Jordan, Jesus emerged forever changed in the eyes of the world. We are conceived, and grow, in fluid; at birth, we emerge from it - never again the same. Now I've had an extraordinary experience: I've slipped back into the water. I can't help but think of an old Talking Heads song that I always loved:

"Take me to the river, drop me in the water
Push me in the river, dip me in the water
Washing me down, washing me ..."

I need to be in the water, and I need to be healed - and then I need to emerge. And I will be forever different afterward. Water is the sign of change. A sea-change - something rich and strange. I know it is time to let the waves wash over me.

I am grateful to be able to share these thoughts, and these experiences, here at the Sketchbook. I don't know what will come of them. My hope is that they will be of some use to someone. I look forward to posting here as time progresses, and to hearing from those of you for which any of this strikes a chord.

May God bless you all, and give you gratitude for the miracle of life - so easily lost.

© 2007, Brie Dodson

No Fall From Grace

It follows us and wraps us in opportunity and possibility. Like the smallest seed that rests in the winter ground remembers the spark of light that will cause it to grow and reach again toward the moment of its birth. Grace: the kindest gift of our Creator. We never fall away from it. In our darkest place, it speaks and there is light. When the Creator dreamed us, grace was the breath of life that made us. There is no fall from grace.

Image and Words by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

The Divine Parentage Of Flowers

My eyesight isn’t very good. My "soulsight," I hope, is better. I think it might be improving, as today I understood, for a moment, the inherent divinity of Family.

I was not instructed by my dear Father, not my Sister, not my Brother. It wasn’t my Priest or my Spiritual Director. It wasn’t my deeply loved husband or my dearly loved friends. It was paint.

The process of painting is my meditation. As I work out issues of color, hue, transparency, or translucency, other issues declare themselves to me.

"The Divine Parentage of Flowers," a mix of paint and paper, spoke to me of relationship. I understood, in an abstracted glimmer of grace, the human relationship to the Divine parent. Now my sister is not only Carol, but also Rose, Geranium, and Fig.

Garden and Gardener, we are related. As I wrap up the garden, stung by the edges of frost and Fall, I have no regret, only confidence. The garden like the gardener will go under covers for awhile, tended by divine promises and permissions.

Image and words by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

Fall

Fall
©2007, by Jan Neal. All Rights Reserved.

Grace Falls

"At your feet, O Christ, we lay
your own gift of this new day;
Doubt of what it holds in store
Makes us crave your aid the more;
Even in a time of loss,
Mark it, Savior, with your Cross."
Words: William Bright (19thC)
adapted/Music: Sunrise (18thC)

Into the day comes doubt, into the desert creeps fear.

Is this, after all, a gift worth offering? I struggle. Who am I to offer this—smudge of paint, hint of line, color. Am I blinded by a desire to give or enlightened by His gift?

Hard days, dark nights. What comes through, what gets us through is practice. Practice makes the eye and hand move through the darkness until light appears on the surface and grace falls on both artist and art.

Image and words by C. Robin Janning. All Rights Reserved.

Synchronicity

Wake my soul with all things living
thanks be giving to the Source of life and day
Sunlight comes and gone confusion,
night's illusion, like the starlight
fades away.

Music: Haydn Franz Joseph Haydn (18thC)
Words: Baron Friedrich R. L. von Canitz (17thC)