Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Sacred Gifts

BYU's Museum of Art has a special exhibition going on: Sacred Gifts, showcasing the gifts of artists to depict Christ, especially the works of Carl Bloch. I definitely don't consider myself artsy fartsy, but I went today, and was touched. And I wanted to share a little bit about my favorite paintings, and why they touched me. Maybe they'll touch you too.

1. "Let the Little Children Come" by Carl Bloch

"But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God." -Luke 18:16

I like how Christ's right arm is completely around this little girl, like He is protecting him, and his right hand is over the child's. Then His left arm is holding another boy's, and He's looking up at the other adults standing up as if he were a child too, asking, "Please can I play with these other kids for a while?" The curtains over his head were used in temples or palaces anciently to be placed above or behind people or great nobility, such as behind a king's throne, so in this painting, Christ just so happens to be crouched directly under a beautiful curtain- signifying His nobility. Last part- there's a little kid squished behind an apostle against the wall, forgotten by the adults, and probably most viewers. CUTENESS!



2. "Christus Consolator" by Carl Bloch

I love the diversity of people surrounding Christ:
  • The exhausted old man in yellow robes on the lower left resting his head on Christ
  • The middle-aged man with a red robe in the lower right, passionately clinging to Christ's robe, as if he owes everything he has to Christ, and he never wants to let Him go (Those first two men lean into Christ, forming an isosceles triangle pointing up to Christ's face as the focal point)
  • The man on the right in chains, cautiously approaching Christ, begging for his broken heart to be a good enough offering despite his past sins
  • The gentle women on the left, faithfully looking to Him, seeing his light
  • And last, the child looking at the viewer, as if questioning, "Aren't you going to come see Him, too? What does He mean to you?"



3. "The Mocking of Christ" by Carl Bloch

I can't explain exactly why this one was special to me, but if you look at the dark red drops of blood on His head, and the pain in His eyes, maybe it will be special to you too.


4. "Christ Healing at the Pool of Bethesda" by Carl Bloch

I love that Christ looks so tall, so clean, so good, and the man under the burlap looks so crippled, so dirty, so confused. And yet, Christ took the thought, and the time, to lift up the burlap, and see who was underneath. Because... because He loved that dirty man. Christ's friends are confused. They're in the background to the left, you can tell they'd been following Him around, but they're keeping their distance in this moment, and it looks like they're saying, "What in the world is He doing? Doesn't he know that's where the dirty people go? I'm not going over there. Oh my goodness- there's actually a man under that burlap!" I think Christ's love shocked people- those who followed Him around, and those Christ approached to help. The crippled man is so shocked, he doesn't even know what to do with himself. He seems startled by the light- because he has been in the darkness for so long. This, to me, is a central message of what I believe: to try and notice the people who hurt, and try to bring light into their life.



5. "Peter's Remorse" by Carl Bloch

Ah, my favorite. The littlest painting, well- it wasn't even a painting. Bloch did this etching when he was still in art school and hadn't graduated to doing full-fledged paintings yet. But oh- how I love this. We always give Peter such a hard time, for denying Christ 3 times, even though he was the chief apostle. And yes, he probably shouldn't have. But oh- just look at this man's pain. His remorse. His regret, that he hadn't been all he could have for his dearest friend, that he had failed the man who taught him so much. It just....hurts. Hurts me- just to look at this etching, because it awakens memories of feelings in me, of feeling horrible- of not being all I could have for a friend, of saying things I wish I hadn't, of forgetting people I should have remembered, or hurting people I really truly loved.


And yet- here's the glory of it: while this etching captures a small moment- perhaps the hardest moment, in Peter's life, Peter's life did not end here. When Christ returned as a resurrected being, he entrusted Peter with one of the greatest responsibilities and missions ever:

17 He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved because he said unto him the third time, Lovest thou me? And he said unto him, Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee. Jesus saith unto him,aFeed my bsheep.
John 21:17

Even in his shame of knowing he had denied Christ, Peter knew Christ knew his heart, and he said, "thou knowest that I love thee." There's the hope. Even when we make mistakes, Christ knows our hearts, He knows we are greater than our mistakes, and He's not done using us for great things when we make mistakes. 

The key is- we have to, have to, feel like Peter did in this small etching. Feeling sorry is an essential step. If we really aren't that ashamed of what we have done, or we don't wish with all our hearts that we hadn't done it, chances are good we'll do it again, or even if we never do, we lose the motivation to be even better- even more loving, more caring, more good to God's children- because we don't feel like we owe anyone anything. Making mistakes makes us feel in debt. In debt to others, and in debt to Christ. If mistakes are working right, they make us feel horrible. And, if Christ is working right, which He always is, and if our hearts are open to Him, He makes us feel wonderful. So wonderful, that we want with all our hearts and souls to be like Him. So everyone around us can feel that unconditional, never-failing love. We want to smile, to sing, to dance, to help, to clean, to study, to work, to laugh, to love. 

And then- we can move on. And do miracles.



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