Sunday, July 8, 2012

Vincent Van Gogh and Other Prophets


This sermon was preached at Glebe-St. James United Church on July 8, 2012.  Right now, at the National Gallery of Canada is an amazing exhibition called Van Gogh: Up Close.  When I went to see it, I had no idea that Van Gogh actually wanted to be a minister.  His paintings pushed me to learn more about him, the Christian.  What I learned inspired this sermon.

“Van Gogh and Other Prophets”                                               Mark 6: 1-13
 by Rev. Dr. Christine Johnson

In June, I went to see the Van Gogh: Up Close exhibition at the National Gallery of Canada.
I was expecting to see some amazing art made by an under-appreciated artist in his own time.
I did see that, but I also found out about Van Gogh, the Christian,
                a prophet who was rejected by his own brother Christians of the day.
I was struck to the core of my being with the spirituality of Van Gogh’s paintings.
And this revelation led me to learn more about Vincent Van Gogh the person.

It’s amazing how Van Gogh’s story relates to the story of Jesus sending out his disciples,
                but in a sad kind of way.
Jesus, after teaching and leading his followers,
                sends the disciples out to do what Jesus knows they can do.
He wants them to travel lightly and to lean on the care of others.
The story says Jesus “gave them authority to cast out unclean spirits.”
And further, he gives them their marching orders.
“Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”

There’s no retaliation, no retribution – there’s simply a letting go,
 and an acknowledgement their message is not welcome here.
By shaking off the dust of an unwelcome place,
                the dust does not cling, making them resentful or sullen.

So they go out and proclaim that all should repent.
They are able to do as Jesus did.
They cast out many demons, and anoint with oil many who are sick and cure them.

Jesus does not keep his divine power to himself but shares it,
                and expects his disciples to share it as well.

At the exhibition, I learned that Van Gogh was a PK,
                which is a short form for Preacher’s Kid.
His father was a pastor in the Dutch Reformed Church,
                and Vincent grew up feeling a call to ministry.

After three years of working for a Dutch art dealer,
he writes these words to his brother Theo:
“God has sent me to preach the Gospel to the poor.”

For the next three years van Gogh single-mindedly pursues his calling to the ministry,
 first as a student of theology
 and then as a missionary to the coal miners in the Belgian Borinage.
Deeply moved by the poverty surrounding him, van Gogh gives all his possessions,
 including most of his clothing, to the miners.
An inspector of the Evangelization Council of the Dutch Reformed Church
comes to the conclusion that the missionary’s excessive zeal borders on the scandalous,
and he reports van Gogh’s behavior to church authorities.
Although van Gogh is successful in his ministry,
 the hierarchy of the Dutch Reformed Church reject him,
and at the end of 1879 he leaves the church, embittered and impoverished.

So here’s the twist.
Van Gogh is rejected by the religious authorities of his day
                for doing the very thing Jesus tells his disciples to do.
However, history tells us it is not so easy for Van Gogh to shake the dust off his feet.

According to Kathleen Powers Erickson,
                who wrote the book, “At Eternity’s Gate:  The Spiritual Vision of Vincent Van Gogh”
                many art historians and critics say that at this point Van Gogh rejects all things religious.
She, however, disagrees. 

Van Gogh, after a time of deep distress,
                answers another call – that of pursuing his artistic gifts.
He writes to his brother:
                “"Even in that deep misery I felt my energy revive, and I said to myself, in spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I had forsaken in my discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing. From that moment everything has seemed transformed for me."

Kathleen Edwards has this to say about his conversion from religion to art:
“Although most of van Gogh’s biographers view this transition as a rejection of religion, in fact art rather than preaching became van Gogh’s chief form of religious expression. His faith in God and eternity as well as his respect for unadorned piety and the word of God remained firm.”

In discovering and pursuing his artistic path, Van Gogh finally succeeds in shaking the dust off his feet.
And God finds another way to use his incredible talent to express what Van Gogh called
                “the white ray of light.”

For van Gogh, belief in God did not mean believing all the sermons of the clergy
 or in his words "the arguments of the bigoted, genteel prudes,"
 but rather there was a God,
 "not dead or stuffed, but alive, urging us to love, with irresistible force."
Thus, Van Gogh pursued his art with his former religious zeal and mission, claiming,
"Our purpose is self-reform by means of a handicraft and of intercourse with Nature
 -- our aim is walking with God."

As I looked at the artworks that were in the exhibition at the National Gallery,
                I was struck by the energy, the light, the sheer genius of the way he used his brushstrokes.
The paintings drew me in, and I felt like I could look at them for hours.
The artist in me wants to know how.
How did he do it? How did he choose his colours? How did he choose his inspiration?  How did he lay down the sketch and then the colours?
The Christian in me wants to know why.
Why did he frame the painting that way?  What is he trying to communicate? What is God trying to say through the art of Vincent Van Gogh?

We know a lot about the life of Vincent because he wrote a lot of letters to his brother, Theo.
And so art historians have a lot of information about where he was, and what he was doing,
                and the mental illness that led him to a time in an asylum.
But all that information sometimes distracts us from simply allowing the art to speak for the artist.

When I stand in front of a Van Gogh painting,
                the world seems to vibrate with power and possibility.
Van Gogh captures the light of God reflected in the minutiae of nature,
                in the flowers, the trees, the fields, the gardens.
The light shines forth and the darkness does not overcome it.
He reaches deep into his soul and addressed the darkness of existence,
                as he does in the painting “The Potato Eaters.”
He’s willing to tell the truth, and to sketch the injustices of the world,
                and to express his deepest fears,
                but he also stands in awe of the great beauty and wonder that is at our fingertips,
                                IF ONLY WE CAN SEE IT.

Repressive Christian piety hurt him greatly
but in the process of that disappointment, he finds another, more liberating way.
His paintings, his artwork, are simply about trying to find a way to “walk with God.”
I believe there is more God in one painting of Vincent Van Gogh,
                then there is in a thousand sermons.

Yes, the church rejects him
                but that doesn’t matter in the slightest to God.
God uses his talent and abilities to profoundly impact the way we see the world.

To me, Vincent Van Gogh is another prophet in a long line of God’s prophets.
In the moment of their ministry, prophets are rejected by the people who are closest to them,
who know them, and live with them in their hometown.
But like Jesus, like the disciples, like all the prophets before Jesus,
                this rejection doesn’t stop Vincent Van Gogh.
It isn’t easy, and he struggles greatly,
                even, some say, to the point of taking his own life.
But like the prophets who use persuasive words, 
Van Gogh uses his art to express his relationship with God,
                and his deep respect and compassion for all those around him.

His art says, as he says himself,
there is a God “not dead or stuffed, but alive, urging us to love, with irresistible force."

Desperation and Her Daughters


Here's my sermon from July 1, 2012, our Canada Day.  It was greatly inspired by my experience at the Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina.

“Desperation and Her Daughters”                    Mark 5: 21-43
by Rev. Dr. Christine Johnson

Desperation is the driver of this story.
Jairus is desperate about his daughter.
The unnamed woman is desperate about her condition.

Desperation will lead us to do anything.
Jairus falls down on the path, probably getting a mouth full of dirt in the process,
            and begs Jesus to come to his sick daughter.
The unnamed woman ventures forth in a crowd,
            knowing that by just being there she is making others “unclean.”
Then, she does something she’s not supposed to do.
She, a woman, reaches out and touches the garment of a man.
She steals his healing power, so to speak.
She is desperate enough to break all the rules.

Desperation is the driver of many of our stories.
We get desperate about our children,
            worried they won’t be able to make their own way,
            worried when they get sick.
Recently, a young woman from Barrhaven was so desperate to find a lung donor,
            she began a campaign to encourage everyone to become an organ donor,
            so that if life circumstances, an accident or other crisis, led to your untimely death,
            you can help another person to live.

Desperation drives many married couples to bad behaviour.
Men will sometimes hunt down their estranged spouses in order to hurt or kill them.
That’s why we have women’s shelters, the locations of which are not well known.
Women might do harm as well, or use the children as pawns in the settlement.
Or, both spouses, before any talk of separation, might seek out other sexual partners,
            in order to fulfil the deep desires that are raging within them.

When Jesus is confronted by the desperation of Jairus,
            he responds by following him.
But in the process of trying to get through a crowd of people,
            Jesus gets interrupted.
He feels that someone has touched him in a needy kind of way.
He stops to confront the person.
Now, in our Bible it reads,
            “He looked all around to see who had done it.”
In the original Greek,
            it should really read, “Jesus glared at the people around him.”
That prompts the woman to come to him in fear and trembling,
falling down before him, and telling him the whole truth.
A glance would not have engendered this response,
            but a glare would have.

That glare tells me that Jesus is probably a bit desperate too.
He’s desperate to get to Jairus’ daughter
            but other desperate people won’t leave him alone.
But Jesus does stop, and does listen, and ends up blessing the unknown woman.

But then, on to the next thing…
And when he comes to Jairus’ house,
            he’s told the daughter has died.
At that point, Jesus is probably ready to throw up his hands,
            desperation and exacerbation tempting him to give up.
But he doesn’t do that.
He finds a way to go from death to life,
            from desperation to hope,
            from Good Friday to Resurrection.
Jairus’ 12-year-old daughter is healed.
The unknown woman, who has been bleeding for as long as Jairus’ daughter has been alive,
that is, 12 years, is also healed.
The older women is given her life back
            and the younger woman is given a chance to live, and ultimately, create life.

That’s Jesus ministry: to heal so that others can also heal, so that life in its fullest can flourish.

What I’ve learned in my travels over the past two weeks,
            is that we are a desperate church in need of healing.
We want to help others, but the traditions and structures of our church often get in the way.
When desperate people interrupt our precious work,
            we glare at them and they become so frightened they run the other way.
We want to spend time writing policies and procedures
            when perhaps hosting a potluck lunch would have a bigger impact.
We want to have the worship experience that WE need,
            rather than allowing worship experiences that speak to broader needs.
We want young people to come to our churches
            so they can experience church like we used to do,
            rather than what the young people want or need.
Some churches say “no food or drink” in the sanctuary,
            meanwhile the table is supposed to be at the centre of our faith.
We want to talk theology and the intricacies of the Bible,
            when a lot of people just need a friendly voice to say “hi, how are you?”
We want to be an inclusive church,
            and we’re not unfriendly,
            but when new people come to our church and even have the courage to stay for coffee,
            we just ignore them.

What I learned about this desperate church could fill volumes.
Desperate churches chase after every newfangled strategy out there.
They buy books, have study groups, do demographic surveys, even hire a consultant.
But what desperate churches aren’t doing is listening to the
            very stories that have upheld us for centuries.
Desperate churches aren’t chasing down Jesus,
            and falling at his feet and saying repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.”

That’s what desperate churches need to do.
They need Jesus to lay his hands on them.
They need to be in the business of discerning God’s call for their ministries.
Churches should be about healing the world and letting the spirit speak.
Churches are not about policies and procedures and who can rent from us and who can’t.
They are not just about taking care of the building.
They are about using the building as a vehicle,
            a vehicle that can be used and if necessary, abused, so that we stand
at the intersection of justice, spirituality, and the arts.

That’s the motto of the Wild Goose Festival,
            a festival in North Carolina
 that is trying to undo a lot of the Christian crap we’ve inherited.
And I’ve come back a changed person.

What I learned at Wild Goose is that people are tired of mean Christians.
Mean Christians wag their finger instead of giving others a hand up.
Mean Christians would rather be right than be helpful.
Mean Christians fight against tax breaks for the poor, and work so the rich get richer.
Mean Christians don’t want to give proper health care to destitute refugees.
Mean Christians call people of other faiths names.
Mean Christians even call other Christians names.

I want to work to allow Jesus to heal the desperate people in this world.
I want to become a golden rule church.
I want the only rule of this church to be the golden rule,
            that is, we treat others the way we want to be treated.
I want this to be a church where belief in a certain way is not a requirement.
I want this to be a church where kind and loving action is the only rule.

I pray the era of the Jesus-centred, loving and open Christian is about to begin.
On Canada Day, it’s important for us to take back our faith,
            to proudly and unapologetically proclaim the goodness and grace of God.
This is what makes Canada just as amazing place.
We proclaim loving kindness and compassion as our way.
Desperation about the economy or the unemployment rate should not
            undermine these essential values.

Desperation drives all of us – sometimes to bad behaviour,
            and sometimes to asking for what we really really need.
Desperation and her daughters aren’t putting up with the old ways anymore.
They have their faces in the dirt begging Jesus to come and lay his hands on them
so they can all be made well, and live.
Maybe we’ll have the courage to do the same.