One of the unexpected blessings of Zooming our chapel services every day has been the discipline of putting together a daily slideshow.  Its purpose is to provide the corporate pieces of our liturgy for those worshipping at home or in their classrooms on any given day, but it has opened up a space for reflection on visual art.  Some days I quickly run a Google image search for something like “prayer represented in fine art,” select the first image that seems acceptable, paste it, credit the artist and dash off to the Chapel.  More often than not, though, I am able to sit with the scripture for the day or the topic of the Senior Chapel Talk, and I look with intention for the right piece.  During Black History Month, I have not only been looking for the right piece but also the right artist.  The Black Church and Black Christians have made rich beautiful contributions to our understanding of the Gospel in America, not only in preaching and music but also in visual art.  I have learned so much about artists I never knew, the circumstances of their lives, the challenges they faced, the wisdom they imparted as they pursued their craft, and I have been highlighting not only the work but a snippet of the life of the artist. 

Here are a few photos that have had a special impact on Chapel this Black History month: 

Art has long provided sacred space in my life.  For over a decade while I served as a pastor, I took a mid-week hour of Sabbath rest in an adult art class upstairs from my office.  I picked up a pencil, a pair of scissors, a paintbrush, whatever tools the assignment of the day required, and I set down the worries I carried and the list of tasks consuming the page of a legal pad on my desk.  I let my right brain do the heavy lifting for a while.  Often my inner critic spoke, frustrated that I could not get the curve a certain line correct or the color mixed to my satisfaction.  As I sat right in front of my piece, I could see the torn paper where I had erased too many times or the wrinkles and crackles I had repainted too often.  I heard the frustrations and critiques of my fellow artists about their own work, too.  As we neared the end of each piece, though, something miraculous happened.  Our teacher would say, “let me hold it up for you,” and she would proudly display it at a distance.  The whole class would ooh and aah, because, at a distance, we saw the whole.  At a distance, even with its small flaws and mistakes, the whole was beautiful.  

Many of the details of this year have been so hard.  When we are right up close to them they look like mistakes, ugly smudges, water spots.  Many of them we wish we could paint over or erase altogether.  They are messing up whatever we had pictured for our lives this year.  I have faith, however, that when we finally reach the end of this pandemic, the end of whatever this moment of hardship has been, our Teacher will say, “let me hold it up for you” and we will ooh and aah at its beauty.  The flaws will fade into the whole and we will see the character that has been built, the kindness we have shown and been shown, the strength we have for whatever we still face, the love of God that has carried us through, the light that shines in the darkness.

Our students often hear a harsh inner critic, too.  They expect a lot of themselves, and we as a community hold them to high standards because we know they can reach them.  It is important for us to offer opportunities for them to set down their worries and to-do lists to rest their left brain for a while as we are able to do in Fine Arts.  We also need to be voices in their lives saying, “let me hold it up for you.”  We need to help them escape the microscope and magnifying mirror that they look through so often so they can look up and look out and appreciate the bigger picture. Yes, there’s a little ink splotch of a failing grade and maybe a significant shadow of an infraction or trip to Mrs. Brown’s office.  And maybe there is an awkward line here or there from an embarrassing misstep, but there is also the brilliant blue of compassion shown to a hurting friend.  There is a luminous glow where the lightbulb went off, and they finally understood a hard concept in class.  There is a magnificent stroke where they shone on the field, on the stage, in the debate forum or behind the scenes.  It all matters - mind, body, soul and spirit.  Our mission at Trinity is to enrich the mind, strengthen the body, enliven the soul and inspire servant leadership.  When we pick up a mirror and say, “step back, let me hold it up for you,” we extend God’s grace.  We allow our students to see that they are more than the sum of their parts or their actions, they are a beautiful whole, the work of a Master.