Birch and Ferns~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1873

 

Vasily Polenov painted Birch and Ferns when he was just 29 years old. We may well imagine he discovered this alive, green space while investigating the wild places at his grandmother's estate at Olshanka. Notice that the artist keeps all of his focus on the forest floor.  A study of the forest floor suggests someone who is walking slowly, taking time to see deeply. 

There's nothing to suggest we're on a woodland path but rather off, in the thick of it. There is a marshy spot at the base of the white birch tree and moving to the right in the foreground. A large fern grows at the base of the birch which tells us we're in a cool, damp place. Ferns won't grow where it's hot and dry. The light is filtered or dappled. We might imagine bird song and the smell of leaf-decay. 

Thomas Merton (who lived in a hermitage at Gethsemane Abbey in Kentucky) wrote in the fifth volume of his journals:

"The profoundest and happiest times of my life have been in and around Gethsemane and also some of the most terrible. But mostly the happy moments were in the woods and fields, alone with the sky and the sun — and up here at the hermitage."

A new acquaintance asked recently about my seminary years (some 45 years ago). I often think of those long four years, but I have almost no recollection of the classroom time where I was usually thinking, "Where am I? What the deuce is this all about?" But I do remember vividly the almost daily, long walks I took on the vast seminary property, in all seasons, at all times of day and evening, when I could escape to the fields and forest and discover places like the one Vasily Polenov has come upon here. There, I had an acute sense of being alive, that God was near and sustaining, and that everything would be all right.

White Willows at Pond ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1881

 

Vasily Polenov was 37 years old when he painted this picture which takes us into a deeply wooded place. I feel as if we have been stumbling around in the woods. We might feel ourselves to be lost, and then, we come upon this pond (more like a big puddle) surrounded by trees.

We have just arrived. I can hear frog-splash as they take cover. There is the front row of low, native plants between ourselves and the water. Then there is the wall of tall trees. Then there are more trees in a misty atmosphere. Finally, there is sky. Is the sun trying to break through?

While Polenov only now and again places people in his landscapes, he still gives some indication of human presence. Do you know what that indicator is here? Maybe it's just a deer path (top right corner of the pond) but more likely the artist has people (maybe children) in mind. 

There is also a handsome bird along the top right of the pond. Are those willow trees on the far side of the pond? Maybe Polenov is giving us a closer look in the top right corner — yes, those are clearly willow leaves reaching in. 

But as peaceful as this painting is, in its long story, something went very wrong. For years White Willows at Pond was housed in the museum at Taganrog. Taganrog is a port city in Southwest Russia whose origins date back to the late Bronze Age. Tsar Alexander I had a summer residence there. In 1855 Taganrog was bombarded by the Anglo-French army, but by 1911 it had recovered and become prominent, hosting fifteen foreign consulates. 

Then the city was occupied by the German Army in the First World War and then again during the Second. During this second occupation Taganrog suffered significant damage until liberated by the Russian army in 1943. But on their way out the door, the German Wehrmacht took White Willows at Pond with them. The painting was subsequently moved around to a number of places until 2017, when it was finally returned to the museum and people of Taganrog. 

Isn't that remarkable—seventy five years after the end of that terrible war in Europe, life was still being restored and things put back where they belonged. With the help of intelligent, determined, honest and cooperative people, the painting found its way home. Blessed are the peace-restorers.

Overgrown Pond ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1879

This pond was found on the estate property of Vasily's grandmother, Vera. We live in a dangerous, angry and frustrating world, and Polenov has provided us here with a bit of an escape. The abundant and lively colors encourage tranquility. There is nothing 'exciting' about this painting, it is just an ordinary pond with ancient trees growing nearby.

Do you see how diagonal lines build up the scene? In two places the water meets the grass on diagonal lines that converge on the right side of the painting. Then the front, grassy, right bank and the line of the little deck run on the same diagonal. Even the left and right sides of the deck itself are parallel diagonal lines. But all these lines, rather than yanking us into a frenzy, seem to draw us together into a silent, living harmony. 

Dark green trees make the air feel cool.The same trees are reflected in the still water. The pond is alive with water lily leaves (some even flowering) and a floating water plant called duckweed. I expect if we're very still, the frogs will come out of their alarm and begin to croak. Maybe dragonflies will zoom in and hover over the water. There would undoubtedly be birds in and around this place, each with a unique song. I had a pond like this on my property where a summertime kingfisher would dive off the trees, disappear into the water and soon reappear with his lunch, and where a great, tall, high-stepping heron with a long pointed bill would stalk frogs along the shallow edges of the pond. 

Notice there is only the smallest patch of sky and cloud seen in the upper left corner—yet that bit of sky is reflected in the water on the lower left and the scene is filled with light. The wooden bridge, the dirt path running alongside, and the grass and flowers nearby are alive and bright—even brilliant! But look even more deeply. There is a woman sitting comfortably on a bench in this peaceful, layered world beyond the deck. She's not disruptive, but just as much a part of the scene as the sky, grasses, water, trees and concealed creatures. 

This is an ordinary pond—but it's really rather extraordinary, isn't it?

Grandmother's Garden ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1878

 

Grandmother's Garden, follows immediately after Moscow Courtyard. It is the 2nd of three (a landscape trilogy) by which Polenov introduces plein air (outdoor) painting to the world of Russian Art. Plein Air painting isn't just a new technique, but an expression of the artist's personal union with nature. It is in-the-moment painting where and when we are struck by something that is unexpected, unplanned — a surprise! Plein air captures the poetic beauty of everyday life, eliciting from the viewer a feeling of quiet and calm. 

We know the expression "going off into the sunset." Here, Polenov acknowledges the 18th century moving into the 19th century. An elderly woman, in dark brown and supported by her cane, walks in her gone-wild garden. Her 18th century mansion, once the scene of great balls and entertainment is in the background—the steps and porch, the capitals of the pillars, the windows, the ornamental work of the pinnacle—are all decaying and crumbling. She is in conversation with her 19th century granddaughter, who wears pink and holds a book (of new ideas?). The 1700's are fading gracefully into the 1800's—a century of inventions and discoveries. See the light on the path! It is a painting of bright-sadness. 

But notice as well—Polenov has not simply painted a ruined building and called it a day, but placed it in a kind of primal garden, peopled with two women in a caring relationship. The artist feels respect for this passing of time. No one should be in a hurry to tear it down, to pave it over, to build something new and "useful."

Look at those tall, spikey, rocket-like flowers blooming to the left. There are more, very humble, negligible flowers, close to the ground along the path where it turns and fades out to the right. St. John of Kronstadt writes "Flowers are the remains of paradise on earth" — reminders of lost Eden's bliss. In a passing world, an often noisy, tumultuous, cruel world, we can escape to nature. Of necessity, sometimes nature is reduced to a potted plant cared for in an office cubicle or an apartment window sill. Vasily Polenov encourages us not to become cynics, but to find life and beauty wherever it may be found.

Moscow Courtyard ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1877-8

 

Moscow Courtyard is considered by many to be Vasily Polenov's most famous painting. Polenov was thirty three when he painted this scene. After having graduated from the Academy as an historical painter,  he started looking for a future path. So, could all these criss crossed paths in the painting have personal meaning for him? 

Vasily's mother encouraged him not to waste time on "trifles" but to do a big painting. She might have had in mind memorable historical moments and battle scenes. Instead, Vasily went off to Moscow where he sketched churches and cathedrals. He found a small apartment there where he did a sketch (painted draft) of the courtyard he saw outside the apartment window, but with a different angle and less light. The painting incomplete,  he went off to the Russian Turkish War as a military artist. Returning a year later, everyone expected to see Vasily's ribbons and medals and paintings of military achievements and weapons. But he had produced very little, and nothing of warfare, only sketches of soldiers shaving and washing up. Even his friend Ilya Repin scolded him for not bringing back a painted war record.

May I offer an opinion? Vasily Polenov was too soulful to produce that kind of painted war report. Soulful people, people of genuine spirit, aren't interested in military displays—then or now. By contrast, isn't it interesting that Polenov's greatest interest turned out to be his painting the Life of Christ Cycle. 

Anyway, when Vasily returned from the fields of blood and  smoke, he also returned to the Moscow apartment where he had previously worked on the courtyard sketch. Setting up his easel at the same window, he now expanded the scene with people—saturating everything with light. We could do with more of that — light saturate-rs, these dark days of coup attempt, covid disregard, pepper spray and record breaking gun sales. While we increasingly make short shrift of art in school, I'm wondering what might happen to us inwardly if we introduced into school curricula a study of the great 19th century landscape painters. Soul work is not the same as religious indoctrination. The artist wrote: 

"History shows what a strong influence art has on persons, on their  morals, on their softening, on morals and mental development. Usually where freedom penetrated, there art appeared, or when art penetrated, the spirit of freedom developed there, expelling the spirit of submission. In relation to the influence of the masses, art acts more strongly than science." 

Indeed, in Polenov's courtyard, everything exists in an atmosphere of light. Is the artist, consciously or unconsciously making a theological statement—the world bathed in divine light? A tall tent-shaped bell tower stands near a rickety barn and an old two story mansion with a metal roof and drain pipes. Notice the mansion's roof is a green-tinted blue, serving as a transition from ground to sky! There is a spring green lawn with flowers. Paths crisscross the yard and a horse waits to begin the workday. A woman with a heavy bucket (she balances herself with left arm outstretched) has begun her day.  There is a small flock of chickens with chicks. There's no tended garden but "weeds" grow near the fence. The trees are wild. Notice the clothes line to the rear of the yard. The golden hair of the little children playing is reflected in the brilliance of the church cupolas. A seated baby cries for attention. There are a couple of birds over the weeping white birch and a few traveling clouds. Light infused, Vasily Polenov captures a precise moment of the world in a good mood.

Let us pay close attention and look way down the road. As in Brooklyn, Boston or Rome, in Polenov's painting we sense there is a church on every corner. "What good is a road if it doesn't lead to a church." The church with the big tent-shaped bell tower is The Church of the Saviour on the Sands, now called, The Church of the Saviour of the Transfiguration of our Lord. This church is a survivor. In the Soviet years it was turned into a film studio, but today it is once again a functioning church. What a world we live in that destroys churches; rounds up people deemed undesirable, imprisons and kills them; lets children die, bombs medieval buildings; tears up the ground for minerals to make batteries and chops down forests for toilet paper; despoils the waters  and beaches with oil spill after oil spill.

But here is a current photograph of the church Vasily loved in 1878. Notice a copy of Vasily's Moscow Courtyard has been cleverly posted on the outside wall, so passersby can see the church memorialized for its beauty on a similarly sunny day. "Let us rejoice and be glad," Psalm 118:4.

Vera Nikolaevna Voeikova

As we set out early in the Lenten time to contemplate the paintings of Vasily Polenov, it is important to meet this great lady, Vera Nikolaevna Voeikova, (1792-1873), his maternal grandmother. This portrait of Vera was painted by Ivan Kramskoi (1867) when Vera was about 75 years old. There is another similar portrait, but I have chosen this one because Vera is full-faced and  looking out at us. 

Here, Vasily's grandmother is wearing a black dress. She is perhaps still in mourning for her husband, Alexi, who died in 1865. But she might also be coming out of mourning as she wears a bonnet with blue flowers, tied with a shiney, ultra blue bow. She wears her wedding ring on her right hand. I feel I'd like to sit and talk with her awhile.

Vera Nikolaevana and her husband were what's called the gentry — wellborn, well-bred, intellectual, artistic people. Vera was a connoisseur of French and Russian Literature, well versed in Russian history, folk poetry, folk tales, epics and legends. Supportive of her daughter's talent, Maria (Vasily's mother), became a portrait painter and an author of children's books.

After Alexi's death, Vera dedicated herself to the education of Vasily and his sister, Elena. Her vast estate (Olshanka) became their classroom where Vasily wandered in the atmosphere of primal nature, amid plants and trees, topography, ponds, streams and the changes of sky and light. Here, he produced numerous sketches and his first landscape paintings. His grandmother encouraged creativity, imagination, and intellectual stimulation. What an amazing, growth-producing home-schooling!

Some years after Alexi's death, Vera had built a substantial church on the estate property, The Church of the Resurrection of Christ the Savior. It was a noble, red brick building with a massive central cupola and two classic snow-shedding "tents" on either side. After the Russian Revolution, the property was abandoned, while the church was robbed, gutted and turned into a storage barn for grain. Later a small iconostasis was found in the cellar.  Today the church is used for services, but the cupola needs help. 

The grounds (but not the house) and the pond (which we will see in a couple of Polenov paintings) have since been cleaned and restored. Maybe Olshanka will again invite young people to come and learn how to sketch, draw and paint. The culture needs to re-learn beauty. Television commercials hawking products that promise eternal sexiness and youth, mountain climbing super cars crashing through streams and snow, don't really cut it. 

So let us be thankful for Vera Nikolaevna, so supportive of every creative impulse. 

Manor House awaiting restoration

Church of the Resurrection of Christ the Saviour

Church of the Holy Mandylion ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1883

Vasily Polenov wrote: "I love all the arts, they all are very dear to me; architecture was my occupation, poetry and sculpture were my delight, and painting and music are my life." 

The first chance Vasily received to try out his architectural talent was his design for the Church of the Savior of the Holy Mandylion (not made by human hands) for the artist's colony at Abramstevo (1881-1882). It is said he approached the design project with great enthusiasm, designing even the pillars, floor design, icon lamps, the iconostasis (icon screen between the nave and sanctuary). But he was also a remarkably collaborative person — inviting friends to participate in the creation of interior design elements—stylized flower and butterfly tile motifs, landscape wall paintings and icons for the iconostasis. 

Collaboration — there's an idea for healing a wounded/weakened nation. Imagine, all across the country, inviting people to share ideas, knowledge, talent and skill for the creation of parks, preserves, interfaith chapels, schools, playgrounds, community gardens, recreation and local arts centers. Imagine a movement which has as its sole purpose the greening of America's cities with the planting and care of trees (millions are lost every year).

Here are my thoughts as I stand before Polenov's wonderfully conceived church at Abramtsevo.

I love there's no parking lot around this pearl, simply trees.

I love the whiteness of its walls — no gloom — just Vasily's joy.

I love the display of light and shadow,

the paused hush and forest-scent before stepping through the open door.

I love the modest buttresses,

the icon over the door with its weather-protector hood,

its two-belled exchange.

I love the great drum under the main cupola, the tiled band,

 the turret windows.

I love the pint-sized companion cupolas, swirls of green and gray.

I love the second miniature church — perhaps a baptistry attached —

 its ornamental flamed arches.

I love the earth-path leading,

creating quiet step,

 but then the forest depth — God's first temple.

I love the small cemetery,

its fence suggestive of community even in death.

 Are these the graves of Vasily's collaborators?

I love the enfolding verdure; its cool invitation,

where nesting birds would be protected,

the imagined sound of summer breeze through high branches.

I love the white, cloud-touched sky opening,

the overflow of blue seen through wildwood,

the anticipated phasing moon next the bright star.

I love the people who would come here,

pray they are of good heart,

no asking for affiliation,

but only, 

"Welcome, pleased to see you."

I love that people love to make wishes —

throw a coin into the fountain,

birthday candle, ladybug, rainbow wishes, 

 found a penny, wishing on a star,

blow-the-seeds-off a puff dandelion wishes —

Some people say, "Make a wish" when you enter a church for the first time. 

Stepping over the threshold here, one wish on my mind —

the wish to learn a new depth of, "Thank you!"

"Has Been in the Desert" ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1909

 

 

Vasily Polenov, believed that Jesus was a real person. He wrote about painting images of Jesus, "To present His living image in visual art too, to present Him such as he was in reality." This is why the artist traveled to Egypt, Syria and Palestine in 1881-1882. He wanted to observe and learn, so he could depict accurately the clothes the people wore, the colors and light of the places near to Jesus, the scenery — hoping to use these insights so to infuse his Christ cycle paintings with strong feeling.

"I'm too much in thrall of the greatness of the man and the beauty of the narrative about him..." Would that all Christians could speak those words. In 1897, Vasily wrote, "I love the Gospel stories about Him." Here, Polenov has seized on one moment in St. Mark's Gospel account of Jesus' long days in the wilderness. 

The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. And he was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels ministered to him." Mark 1:12,13

Mark's Gospel account doesn't detail dramatic temptations to turn stones to bread or a challenge for Jesus to throw himself off the top of the temple. That's why Polenov shows Jesus, just sitting. We might imagine we're stumbling around the wilderness ourselves, and as we turn  a corner we are surprised to see a man sitting in utter stillness — not in royal blue, purple and red, but brown — like the ground. Polenov shows us a Jesus who is one of us. 

But nearby there are the beasts — a lion taking an afternoon snooze and a wild dog. Indeed, in Jesus' day, not only were there lions in the Syrian wilderness, but they were there for another thousand years. One scholar says there were brown bears in Israel until recently. Sad, that humans have caused so many extinctions. God placed us in a garden and invited us to name the animals — but we have destroyed their wild homes and killed them for souvenirs. We're poorer for it. 

Some say Mark mentions the animals because they posed dangers. I get the feeling Polenov doesn't share that view. It's not the animals that will kill Jesus, but humans. We're the danger. I'd suggest it is more like this: God placed us in the garden with the animals and plants. But Adam spoiled it, and so have we. Jesus came to reclaim all of creation for God. He began that process of reclamation when he stepped down into the water of the Jordan River. Now Jesus is the new Adam, living in harmony with the creatures. Look at Polenov's painting — Jesus isn't floating above God's good ground, but sitting on it, as if utterly harmonized with creation.

There are not a few Christians who are not of this Christ-mind. They live in the denials that fill the airwaves today: coronavirus denial, climate change denial, election results denial, injustice deniers, life in the womb deniers. Polenov's Jesus sits in a great inner stillness. I might imagine myself taking up a seat on the ground with this Jesus. And what might that inner stillness with God lead me to — what new reconciliation, what new commonality, what new awareness? Listening and watching carefully since Election Day, it's clear we've lost a lot — perhaps most of all a sense of common ground, common good. We've got these Lenten days to consider it. 

Still, beauty is everywhere, even in the desert place. We see Jesus sitting in the rocky foreground. Beyond is a deep valley. Beyond that is a great rock formation with undulating sedimentary lines. Then there is the blue of the sea and another deeper blue on the far shore. Then there are the mountains. Then the sky. Lent, and Polenov's painting, invite us into the inner place which is deep and beyond.

Monastery Over the River ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1898

 

Vasily Polenov created this marvelous painting in 1898 after his visit to Kiev, Ukraine. We see the Dydubchi Monastery tucked into the hills. Everyone traveling on the Dnieper would see these gleaming monastic buildings hovering over the river. Is that a steamer ship approaching the shore below? Perhaps there are pilgrims on board who will spend Sunday at the monastery. 

It is morning, and the rising sun is striking the cupolas (onion domes). They are like fiery candles — images of the church aflame with the community's love and prayer. The monastery clings to the rock which falls steeply down to the river. Behind the main buildings and up into the forest, there is another church. Maybe Polenov was experimenting with a new impressionist style in his treatment of the green, hilly foreground. The calm blue river is filled with morning light; we seem to be able to see forever into the distance. Look at how the faraway, big water merges with the big sky. God is big. God is bigger than our tiny ideas and old insistences.

We might call this a thin place where the physical and invisible realms touch. Here, time doesn't matter. I want to awaken inwardly with this new day. Inner sky. Inner ground. Inner forest. Notice there is a diagonal line creating two spaces that merge — the watery, blue world on the left and the rocky, green-forested world to the right. 

I'm sorry to share the photograph below, but there it is — the monastery and river today. It is reflective of our great forgetting. Notice how the monks are trying to hold on with the flowering forest they maintain around the churches. Vasily's painting invites us to enter God's paradise world. Earth, sky, river, forest, light — each a word of God. During Lent I may look for my own thin places. Though much has been lost, there is still some remaining.

Winter ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1880

 

Vasily Polenov is a lyric painter which means he wants to take us to a place that elicits some emotion or feeling response. Here, there is no high drama, but a calm winter day with lots of space. But to feel something, we have to linger a bit. We're in such a hurry; the idea of lingering or pondering may feel strange, even wasteful. Perhaps the closest we ever get to it is the calm considering of a sleeping infant. Our culture doesn't seem to invite any feeling except perhaps the feeling that I need to buy the advertised product with its happy promises.

Lingering here in this winter scene, for a few moments perhaps, we can forget our problems, anxieties and disappointments. Even winter is beautiful. Polenov had bought an estate at Bekhovo, near the Oka River, so he could live more closely to nature. We might think of the American naturalist Henry David Thoreau and his attempts to live apart. And while Polenov designed his home at Bekhovo, he also had workshops built for fellow artists.  This winter scene might suggest how pleased Polenov was with his decision to live where the world was still natural and beautiful. Look at that sky! Do you feel the calm solitude?

We see the edge of a forest that seems to sleep. To the right is a snow-covered berm. We see the path which weaves through the hillside. One path opens a little below where we stand. There are no cars — the lines in the path have been made by sled runners. To the left there is a snow covered field with yellow grasses sticking up through the snow. I remember being struck by that precise scene (yellow grass in snow) along my winter seminary walks. While climate is undeniably changing, many of us will remember deep snow and the fresh scent of winter. 

There are a number of buildings here. Is this a farm owned by one farming family or a cluster of families? There are two people standing together at the top of the path leading up to the house. How do we know they are farmers? In the middle of the painting there is a large dung heap and a smaller one to the left. These manure piles have been excavated, probably from the autumn, when manure is spread over fields. 

And who is this all bundled up and approaching by horse drawn sled? Maybe he's bringing provisions from town. His arrival seems to have been anticipated, as the couple is waiting outside. Cabin fever relief! There's a wisp of smoke coming out of the chimney. It's warm inside. Hospitality is the greatest expression of love. 

Early Snow~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1891

 

This painting by Vasily Polenov is titled "Early Snow." The designation, early, reflects a certain depth of sensitivity or power of observation. My science teacher friend reflected: 

"This is a realistic, stratus cloud sky that has more to give. The thick dark clouds tell us they are full and ready to produce more snow...or rain. We can't tell the actual temperature, except to note that the light dusting of snow has fallen upon an area that was not quite ready for it. The trees and shrubs still have leaves on them." 

We are standing on a rise, enabling us to "get the big picture," to see clearly and way off to the distant horizon. Notice that the river is wide at our end and then trails off, making a kind of S-curve, disappearing with a very delicate, thin line. There is a steep descent to our left where the snow looks deeper. In front of us and towards the right, there is a lone tree, exposed and perhaps wind-lashed. Its branches are silhouetted against the dark sky.

Notice the snow hasn't stayed on the trees. Perhaps the wind has taken it down. The wind has also blown the snow up the hill on the other side of the river, leaving the ground exposed. It seems to have been a light snow, not heavy, icy or wet. This is indeed an early snow — there are autumn colors in some of the trees down between ourselves and the river. And the native plants still have green in them. Perhaps there are even birds which have not yet migrated.

In the seminary I'd take long winter walks through the woods down to the harbor.  I remember the low sky, the raw biting cold and the sound of the chickadee, the wind and the frozen snow underfoot.

Vasily Polenov has opened up a scene that feels clean and tranquil. The sky, snow, trees and bushes, air and colors are all one in a lovely harmony. This contemplative painting invites peace, deep breathing and reflection — perhaps even tears. 

Dream ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1894

 

This painting, titled, "Dream," is one of Polenov's Life of Christ Cycle created between 1884-1909. Vasily was fascinated with Jesus, but wanted us to encounter him as a real person of history. "I love the Gospel tales beyond words," he wrote. And so, we see Jesus simply sitting on the rock high above Lake Gennesaret. He is not preaching; not performing any miracle — just sitting. 

Looking off into the distance, notice that Jesus has his chin in his hand, the way any of us might when we are in some deep thought. Jesus wears no halo. There is nothing golden about him. Polenov's use of this atmospheric, clear-color brightness is new, but the light in which Jesus sits is from the sun, not from himself. We all sit in God's light.

Jesus' clothing is simple; he carries a stick in his right hand. Perhaps the stick serves as a staff, as a shepherd would carry. Or it might indicate Jesus was a traveler and here has found a place to rest. We remember that Vasily had made two trips to Palestine, Syria and Egypt where he experienced and learned to depict the light that is proper to that part of the world. This was Polenov's goal as an artist — to depict Jesus as he was and where he was. There is nothing Russian or European about this painting.

Grass is growing by Jesus in the thin soil that's collected in the depressions and crevices of the rock. We might think of Jesus' parable about the seed planted on rocky ground — the hard-as-rock soul where the Word of God might achieve only a shallow and temporary growth. Matthew 13:1-23.

The rocks are enormous here. The Rule St. Benedict, composed for young monks, instructs them, "Dash your thoughts against Christ the Rock." There is a thistle plant with a long reach growing out of the rock. The thistle is symbolic of suffering.

The valley which descends to the sea is deep and vast, as are the rocks on the other shore, the hills beyond, and the enormous sky. Wide and deep — like the divine heart.

Vasily Polenov shows us Jesus, lost in thought. But the title of the painting, Dream, suggests his thoughts are lovely, positive and good. "What's on your mind?" we might ask someone. We've all sat like this at one time or another, "miles away" — working out a plan, remembering some delight, turning over our concerns or blessings.

A Journey Through Lent ~ Vasily Polenov

 

Maybe you'll remember that throughout Lent 2017 we reflected together on a number of paintings by the landscape artist, Isaak Levitan. During Lent 2019 we reflected on the Impressionist paintings of Camille Pissarro. I'm eager to travel through Lent with you this year, considering the work of the 19th century Russian landscape painter, Vasily Polenov. Here is a photograph taken of him when he was in his early 30's. 

If we're inclined, full biographies of Vasily Polenov can be found online. I'd suggest we might best get to know him by contemplating his paintings. Here then is just a brief window into his life to get our attention. 

Unlike Isaak Levitan who was sometimes desperately poor, Vasily Polenov was born into a wealthy, intellectual and artistic family dating back to the 18th century. Vasily's father was Dimitri, a well known historian and archaeologist who would take his son along on field studies encouraging him to sketch whatever he saw that interested him. Vasily's mother was Maria Alekseevna, a portrait painter and author of children's books. Vasily also had a  younger sister, Elena, who was also an artist. I'll hold off on Vasily's maternal grandmother because she was especially formative of his inner life. 

Vasily Polenov lived June 1, 1844 to July 18, 1927. So, he was 83 when he died. Before he was thirty years of age he had traveled widely to Vienna, Munich, Venice, Florence and  Naples. In 1883 he enrolled in the Imperial Academy of Arts where his work earned him an allowance to travel at the expenses of the Russian State.

He visited Germany and Switzerland, then stayed in Rome, where he fell in love with a young woman named Moroussia Obolenskaya who died the same year they met. In 1881 he undertook a trip to Syria, Palestine and Egypt, the places close to the start of Christianity, to study the light, culture, architecture and people that informed his Life of Christ Series.

Later he settled in Paris. During the 1880's he joined The Wanderers — the outdoors movement (we might remember from our Isaak Levitan Lent) which broke away from the imposed themes of the Academy to better represent nature and contemporary issues. He studied and worked alongside other great artists like Ilya Repin. Isaak Levitan was one of Vasily's students.

He met his wife, Natalia, in 1910 when he  joined a folk theatre project. They turned their home into a kind of school (House of Theatre and Education) which set out to bring art to people who would otherwise have no exposure to it. He exhibited and priced his paintings ridiculously low so everyday people could afford them. But a profiteer bought them up and raised the prices to reflect their real value — like the millionaire profiteers who make huge money off of wars, or billions of dollars off Coronavirus.

Polenov's property and house, and the church he designed and had built, survived the Russian Revolution and are with us today. We're grateful for that.

So maybe, spread the word that we'll begin our Polenov pondering on Ash Wednesday (February 17).  Perhaps you know folks who are looking for a Lent-to-Easter path that is both beautiful and positive.

"I believe that art must give happiness and joy, otherwise it's worth nothing. There's so much misery, so much vulgarity and filth in life that if art drenches you in horror and villainy, living would become too difficult." Vasily Polenov 1888.

 

 

 

Intercessions ~ Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

The resistance to the Pope,/ both inside and outside the Church/ is real and sometimes intense,/ may we learn from his evident joy./ We pray to the Lord.

Today is Valentine's' Day./ May we send Valentines of compassion,/ hope and blessing/ to those places around the world where there is no love,/ only exclusion/ helplessness and discrimination./ We pray to the Lord.

Lent begins with Ash Wednesday this week./ We pray to know how to approach Lent in a positive way,/ so that come Easter,/ we will be somewhat more like Christ,/ living our unique and evolved selves,/ beautifully and authentically./ We pray to the Lord.

While we can feel the increase of light these days in our hemisphere,/ we ask for the enlightening of minds that can be darkened by greed,/ ignorance and stupidity,/ leaving people poorer/ and the planet violated and ruined./ We pray to the Lord. 

We pray for the renewal of the Christian Church where there is a loss of awe and a sense of God's mystery./ Where political party has substituted for Christ's Gospel,/ where people feel un-welcomed and alienated,/ where Christians resort to threats and violence./ We pray to the Lord.

More than 2.3 million people have died of Coronavirus around the world./ We pray for them,/ and for those who work to combat this terrible sickness./ For those who remain cavelier and insensate./ We pray to the Lord.

A Lenten Invitation

 

Portrait of Vasily Polenov by Nikolai Kuznetsov 1888

A Walk Through Lent With Vasily Polenov 

Russian Landscape Artist ~ "The Knight of Beauty"

1844 ~1927

Daily Reflections Ash Wednesday Through Easter Sunday

"I believe that art must give happiness and joy.." 

Including Paintings from Polenov's Life of Christ Cycle

"I love the Gospel stories beyond words..." 

Early February Moon

 

This is how the moon looked Saturday night — except you'd need a telescope to see all those craters. It is a Waning Crescent Moon with about thirty percent of the moon's surface illuminated. Soon it will disappear and we will begin again with a new moon—each night, the moon growing until it is a full moon. Native Americans called the February Full Moon, Snow Moon or Ice Moon. We may have thoughts of surrender or letting go when we see the moon disappearing into shadow. The moon is referred to a number of times in the psalms.

When I see the heavens, the work of your hands

the moon and the stars which you arranged,

What is man that you should keep him in mind,

mortal man that you care for him?  Psalm 8:3

At 4 A.M. last night the moon was more yellow than the orange appearance here, with a shelf of softly lit clouds beneath it. It was lovely in full view. Then it was lovely seen through a tall Hemlock. Lovely again, seen a few steps later through the more wispy branches of a White Pine and then, yet again, through the branches of a Sycamore, which of course in early February were bare. We are always being invited to look closely.

Intercessions ~ Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Chionodoxa ~ Glory of the Snow

Pope Francis has added the Feast of Sts Martha,/ Mary and Lazarus/ friends of Jesus,/ to the Roman Calendar./ Bless the people who are our friends,/ and may our idea of friendship grow and expand,/personally,/ but also as church and nation./ May we see the child in the womb,/ and children everywhere, / as friend./ We pray to the Lord. 

We are living in times of crisis:/ coronavirus,/ unemployment,/ people falling into poverty./ But there is also a great spiritual crisis of the heart,/ the growth of anger,/ anti-semitism,/ false patriotism/ even the spread of neo-naziism and white supremacy./ May we re-discover transformative light and gratitude./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray gratefully for the many people who work to normalize life during the coronavirus pandemic and winter storms./  For those whose lives are painfully disrupted./ We pray to the Lord.

We ask for the restoration of calm and balance/ where life has become burdensome and hard,/ where there's sickness,/ menace,/ heartache,/ where we feel overwhelmed and unnerved./ We pray to the Lord.

Lent begins in eleven days./ May our approach be a positive one,/ by which we would see ourselves more rightly,/ that we would come to Easter somehow more whole and alive./ We pray to the Lord.

For world governments/ and for our own new administration./ Heal party strife/ and bless every effort to improve the lives of citizens./ We pray to the Lord.

A Blessing Prayer for You on a Snowy Day

 

May the snowy day refresh you,

   the wooded depth lead you to interiority.

May the snow which will melt,

   the streamlet which will thaw, change your heart.

May the forest fox share its constancy with you,

   the woodland squirrel its vigilance,

   the snowy owl its patience.

May the root-chewing rabbit increase love in you by leaps and bounds,

   the alarmed crows keep you safe from treachery.

May the budded trees whisper renewal,

  the greenwood's ancient endurance invite you to a divine security.

May the forest floor teach you of God's Christ-love, awaiting our return.

Stephen P. Morris