This is a place for poetry. For Visual Art. For Music.
"An art work can be a doxology in itself.”
― Francis Schaeffer
Oh, Mary. Dare I say I wouldn't be a Christian without her? When she writes she reveals the divine in a way that causes me to have no doubt that God is here, on earth.
Angels by Mary Oliver
You might see an angel anytime
and anywhere. Of course you have
to open your eyes to a kind of
second level, but it’s not really
hard. The whole business of
what’s reality and what isn’t has
never been solved and probably
never will be. So I don’t care to
be too definite about anything.
I have a lot of edges called Perhaps
and almost nothing you can call
Certainty. For myself, but not
for other people. That’s a place
you just can’t get into, not
entirely anyway, other people’s
I’ll just leave you with this.
I don’t care how many angels can
dance on the head of a pin. It’s
enough to know that for some people
they exist, and that they dance.
Sister Corita Kent was a Roman Catholic nun, educator, and vibrant pop artist in the 1900s. She inspires me endlessly with her colorful screen prints that fuse spiritual words & bold images. Her "rules for life" are timeless.
Images from corita.org
"A Sanctified Art"
Surreal, brilliant original art inspired by the divine.
They're a team of artists, poets, & liturgists creating multimedia resources for personal & congregational worship.
You'll find paintings, devotionals, & curriculum for children's ministry.
Check it out; this art is simply ethereal.
FROM THE ARTIST (Lauren Wright Pittman)
“Mary and Elizabeth affirm, comfort, and support one another in the unexpected, strange circumstances of their pregnancies. Elizabeth instantly recognizes that Mary is pregnant and is filled to the brim with the Holy Spirit, so much so that she exclaims that Mary is blessed among women and the mother of the Lord. What an amazingly confident and prophetic statement she makes. It is unclear, exactly, of the reason for Mary’s visiting Elizabeth. She may have been seeking comfort or community, or she may have been wanting to offer comfort to Elizabeth. Whatever her intentions, it is clear that Mary is emboldened and empowered by Elizabeth’s affirmations as she breaks into the Magnificat. It is as though Elizabeth’s words, “Blessed is she who believed,” creates space in Mary’s heart to proclaim the broad implications of what is taking place within her womb.
I wanted to depict the creative energy, communication, and power that was taking place in Mary and Elizabeth’s wombs in this moment. Mary’s womb swirls with the knitting together of the One through whom all things came into being, while Elizabeth’s womb radiates joy with the leaping of the one who will spend his life directing attention, awe and reverence to the One in Mary’s womb.
When we draw near to one another, we can recognize and proclaim God’s movement in one another’s lives and be encouraged in our own journey. When we draw near to one another, we live more fully into who we were created to be.”
FROM THE ARTIST (Hannah Garrity)
“Saul doesn’t just persecute Jesus’ followers, he breathes threats and murder. His hatred fumes out of him like fire, perhaps a fire tended by fear—fear that his Jewish tradition will become impure or distorted, fear that the walls he’s built around who’s in and out will crumble, fear that his own hard-earned piety will diminish. He’s a force of terror, sculpted by self-sufficiency and self-righteousness. He’s a religious extremist not so unlike the ones we know of today.
Until God smacks him down, pulling his sight and self-reliance out from under him like a rug. God softens Saul’s steely heart by forcing him to confront those whom he harms, and by making him utterly dependent on relationship and others to survive. Perhaps Saul’s conversion is ultimately a radical healing—God soothes his fear and hatred with empathy and intimacy.
But this isn’t just a story about Saul’s transformation. His companions on the road to Damascus are changed too, as they hear the voice of the risen Christ and escort a stumbling Saul to the city. Ananias’ conversion is the most courageous of them all. He risks everything, including his own life, to come close to one with the power to have him stoned. Only in the moments when Ananias’ fingers touch Saul’s eyes, does Saul see, for the first time, the image of the divine in one who is not his enemy, but his brother.
In this image, a halo hovers around the hand of Ananias, nodding to the sacred courage required to melt the hatred of his oppressor with intimacy and connection. Scales pour out of Saul’s eyes, purging him, cleansing him, igniting him with a new and particular mission: to pour out God’s grace wherever humans try to limit it.”