Tired, defenses down

All the hoo haw in the Episcopal Church / Anglican Communion of late has gotten me very tired.
Very tired, tired to the point of shaking my head and wondering “What is this all about?”

It appears we all have our hills to climb here, what can we be part of? Where do we draw the lines, who are we as children of God and what are we called to do or be?

I am beginning to truly believe that we have it wrong. All the pretty trappings and titles and history are impressive, but what are we doing here? Who or what do we follow, who or what do we worship?

I remember going to the local art museum to be with the paintings of Cézanne, a painter I greatly admire. I was taking a rest from the spiritual place a painting had taken me, and began to observe the other visitors to this place. They came in many sizes, shapes and colors; they were of all sorts and conditions.
I began to notice the people and how they reacted to being in this place with all these works of art. The first thing I noticed was that people, many of them, were there to collect, no not take the work physically with them, but to see who was represented, were they someone they heard of, was it a work they might recognize from a book or a picture they had seen. These people zoomed around the gallery looking first at the little plaque on the wall to the right of the painting, then glancing up at the work of art, the time they gave the painting was in relation to the recognition factor of the name and title of the work. If the artist was not recognized barely any time was given to study the art. If the artist was a known entity then the painting got a longer glance, not long mind you, but enough to see if it was something important. Then they moved on to ‘collect’ an other work of known, important art.
The second group was there to look, but it was all too much, or maybe they were there because they were fulfilling an obligation, perceived or real, to be in this place. I noticed many of these people were in awe of the frames on the paintings, wondering how they were made, how old they were, did this really hang in someone’s home? These people wondered aloud, how did they hang this work, why was the gallery so big / small, look how shiny the floors are! They barely looked at the paintings at all, to their credit, they often spent more time at a particular work than the collectors, but I wonder if they even saw the paintings.
An other group was the students and armature artists / painters. This group looked at composition, color, use of the brush or knife. They wondered what the medium used was, was this on linen? They looked at the drafting skills, the reworking of the placement of this or that. This group also was collecting, but they were collecting in a different way, I wondered how many of this group saw the story in the painting.
There were those like me, who came to be with only a few works of art, or maybe just one today. We walk past so many works of wonder, to gaze on and be with just one artist or one painting. The goal is to reach into the past and be in the place where and why this was created. Our focus is narrow and we are easily taken to a place of great joy or trouble. We gaze on the particular work or works then leave feeling nourished for the next day, week, month, and then return again for another dose of grace.
All of us, none of us are right, All of us probably miss the grandeur of this place that holds so much wealth of beauty and richness of story and experience. We miss it because of choice, choice to avoid something so great and powerful that it is overwhelming. All the creation, creative power, beauty, life story that exists in one place, silently waiting to be engaged. It is much easier to go to a place like this and focus say on Picasso, or Matisse or Italian painters of the renaissance. It is difficult to take it all in, to know the entire collection. And maybe it is best if we don’t know the entire collection but let it reveal itself to us.
I recall wandering through a local art museum on my way to visit with a particular work, when out of the corner; my eye caught a glimpse of a white background with a bold dark swath. I noted it, but also hurried past it to continue on my journey. After visiting the painting of my original intent, I wandered back by the white background with the dark swath. I was literally knocked on my ass. There were no benches or seating in this corner of the gallery and I had to sit on the floor, this painting was so powerful in the way it spoke to me, revealed itself to me. I actually found my self crying this painting was so revelatory to me. This museum I was so familiar with, thought I was so familiar with, had presented me with something new, new to me. My world was shaken and made a little more open to a different language of beauty.

God, help us to see the miracle you have given us, call us where you will, open our soul to your grace, lead us to your kingdom.
Amen