The Lord's Supper ~ Vasily Polenov

 

Here is Vasily Polenov's depiction of the Lord's Last Supper. Notice at once he breaks ranks with the other artists who love symmetry and place Jesus in the middle with six apostles on one side and six on the other. Polenov shows the apostles gathered around with Jesus and each other. He is very interested in the room as well, which bears no resemblance to the Gothic room we might see if we've pilgrim-d to Jerusalem.

The ceiling is flat and made of planks of wood. The lighting is soft — there is a chandelier of oil lamps. There isn't a table as such, but a low platform with pillows around the perimeter. These are good Jewish men with covered heads. Jesus is standing on the right with his back to the wall — able to interact with all the dinner guests. 

The meal is coming to its close. How do we know? We see Judas skulking off in the bottom left corner. He is going to tell the officials where they can find Jesus. Before he leaves the table, Jesus calls him friend.

But what really gets my attention is the strong beam of Full Moon light that is pouring in from the opening in the roof. An artist friend has told me that the hardest and most important thing to learn for an artist is how to paint light. This is clearly moon light isn't it, not sunlight. And look, that light is illuminating the clay jar. It's the clay jar that holds the water for the foot washing the apostles missed at the start of the meal. It is the Holy Thursday Gospel — John 13:1-15.

You see, there likely should have been a servant to wash everyone's dusty feet as they came in off the street. It doesn't matter why he was absent. Clearly, Jesus thought that in the absence of the servant, after three years together as attentive disciples (learners), one of them would have volunteered to offer that courtesy to the others. But halfway through the meal, it's clear no one has picked up on this, and so Jesus offers a last demonstration: This is how discipleship is done.

The light in this upper room is an intimate light. Christianity isn't about keeping distances, building barriers and walls, who's in/who's out. Christianity is a religion of intimacy, taking care of other people physically, making others comfortable — whether they are members of our blood family or the Central American unaccompanied minors showing up at the border fleeing for their lives. Or for pity's sake, wearing a mask during a pandemic. And no one should understand this better than those of us who approach the table and encounter the Lord, who as Mother Teresa says, "Wears the disguise of bread and wine." 

An Olive Tree in the Garden of Gethsemane ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1882

 

Vasily Polenov discovered this Olive Tree in the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed and was arrested on Holy Thursday night. Do you see the path leading down from Jerusalem to the orchard? One priest-scholar says Jesus would have seen the lamps and torches of the soldiers and guards who were coming for him. He might have gone out a back gate or over the fence to escape them, but he did not. 

Some people say as old and gnarled as the olive trees are at Gethsemane they could not be the trees which sheltered the distressed Jesus — that they were planted by Medieval Crusaders. It doesn't matter. This tree is gnarled and "seen a lot." Polenov has honored the tree in the venerable garden beautifully. Look at the complexity of shadow on the tree's trunk and the remarkable blue sky seen through the branches as well. 

Remember in the Noah story that the dove brings back an olive branch when the waters begin to recede. The olive branch is a symbol of hope and renewal. Take Christ to heart and a person's renewal can be profound. Discouraging for me, when I meet a person who, after decades of organized Christian do-ing, evidences a heart-mind untouched by Christ.

In the Book of the Prophet Zechariah (Chapter 4) the prophet has a vision of a golden lampstand with an olive tree on either side. The trees represent Joshua, God's Governor, and the Prophet Zerubbabel, the high priest. Zechariah asks for an explanation of the image and God instructs him not to trust financial and military resources (where we find power) but to trust God's Holy Spirit working through him and symbolized by the first tree.

We have so much to relearn. Not to trust financial things. Aren't we taught, if the stock market is soaring, all is well.  A recent TV ad encourages parents to get their children interested in the stock market at an early age. The New York Stock Exchange begins and ends each day with the ringing of a bell. Like the start of Mass or the hand bells rung at the most sacred moment of the Consecration. The Stock Market — maybe it's the nation's real cathedral, real religion.

And the other olive tree symbolizes trust in God's Holy Spirit and not in military power. In his recent trip to Iraq, Pope Francis did not expect to see the city of Mosul in ruins? He said, "Something that came to mind in the church is this: who sells the weapons that make for this destruction? Because they don't build these weapons at home. Who sells these weapons? Who is responsible? I would ask them who sells the weapons and at least they would have the sincerity to say, 'We sell the weapons.'" 

Well, who sells the weapons? We do. That other countries do as well, doesn't matter. We're the real weapons supermarket. I can't imagine God is pleased. At least not Christ-God.

Vasily Polenov depicts an olive tree that is ancient, tested but still strong. May we ask for that Holy Spirit which preserves us from darkness, proposals of permanent solutions and false promises of security and happiness.

Epiphany ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1896

 

We might imagine, and you'd be right, if you see this painting to be a view of John the Baptist baptizing Jesus in the Jordan River. But the cluster of people is set at a distance and within a great landscape of water, land and sky. Isn't it wonderful, the translucence of the water, the true-blue sky, the deep green of the woods leading down to the water. I love the tree on the right margin which seems to explode with energy. 

Polenov has not called the picture, The Baptism of Jesus, but simply, Epiphany. We hear every year that Epiphany is a Greek word that means manifesting, revelation, showing, unwrapping. The Feast of the Epiphany used to have three strong liturgical themes: the Gentile Magi following the star to Christ, the heavenly voice at the River Jordan and the first sign of Christ's divinity at the Cana wedding.

These events in the life of Jesus are not a walk down memory lane for us, but God continues to incarnate and infuse. God continues to manifest, reveal, share and show. And each of us, and all of us together, are inside these ever new events. We're wrapped in, dipped in, inhaling and under these events. We're not admirers but share-rs. 

When we're Baptized the priest or deacon addresses us, even as infants, "You have become a new creation. and have clothed yourself in Christ." We're supposed to be new Christ-persons.  It takes a lifetime to turn a mind and a heart around to that of Christ — which means a heart-mind lived authentically, fully, humbly, beautifully, generously, creatively and joyfully.

A Dominican Sister-friend  recently sent me a video of the Irish Night held at her order's motherhouse. Raffle prizes were given away with sisters pulling the winning tickets, young people from an Irish step dancing school performing, bagpipers piping — all virtually.  But in the last few minutes an Irish Blessing was sung accompanying still photos of retired sisters holding up signs of thanks, love, promise and encouragement. Their lovely, beamy faces! Epiphanies of God's loving kindness are everywhere. I ask it all the time — Do we really know how to say thank you? And if I think I do, then I want to learn and re-learn it again and again, renewing it more deeply each day.

Vasily Polenov, for his own reasons, was rather removed from the life of the church. But he designed churches inside and out in attentive detail, and painted dozens of pictures, scenes from the life of the historical Jesus. And he created all these pictures of rivers, valleys, mountains, sky and changing atmosphere, and ponds and streams and trees in their seasons. So it seems to me, he understood gratitude in a most profound way. He understood that Thank You is the authentic Christian lifestyle. 

The Trappist Monk, Thomas Merton, reflecting on his hermit life in the Kentucky woods with the animals, forest and fields wrote: "I have a real need to know these things because I myself am part of the weather and part of the climate and part of the place, and a day in which I  have not  shared truly in all of this is no day at all. It is certainly part of my life of prayer."

Galilean Anemone ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1883

The Wild Galilean Anemone blooms between the Jewish feasts of Purim and Passover (roughly late February). The flower resembles a poppy, but it is not. The folks who have made botanical studies of the Holy Land suggest that this is the flower Jesus was referring to in Matthew 6:28-30.

"And why do you worry about clothes? Consider how the wild flowers grow. They neither work nor weave, but I tell you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these? Now if God so clothes the flowers of the field which are alive today and burnt in the stove tomorrow is he not much more likely to clothe you, you of little faith?"

The Galilean Anemone grows in wild fields in Palestine. Jesus surely would have known them as they bloom near the Sea of Galilee. Bright red, you can't miss them. But they are also short-lived and hence are often a symbol of the transience of beauty.  The ancient Roman author, Pliny (79 AD) said of the Anemone, "They only open in the wind." Their blooming seems orchestrated and extra-sensoried for maximum effect.

Anyway, Vasily Polenov has certainly seen and valued their presence, as well as the lichen-covered volcanic rock of the area and the abundant variety of the spring green. The  small, white, snowdrop-like cluster of flowers to the left of the Anemone attests that they often bloom in fields containing other kinds of wild flowers. 

The photo below was taken in a field near Jerusalem. Who knows, maybe this is where Vasily Polenov set up his easel. Blessed flower — in its humility, referenced by Jesus and  captured (with its shadow, rock and flower companions) by this soulful young artist who found it all to be irresistibly good, as God muses at the end of creation's third day.

The Resurrection of Jairus' Daughter ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1871

Jairus was a prominent synagogue leader. Depending on the evangelist's account, he approached Jesus to visit his home as his twelve year old daughter had either just died or was near death. The account is told in each of the synoptic gospels: Mark 5:21-43, Luke 8:43-56, Matthew 9:18-26. All three tell the story with the interruption along the way of Jesus healing the poor, exhausted woman with the longtime hemorrhage.

 

One art historian says that Polenov has created a sublime atmosphere here. Sublime means elevated or awe-inspiring. He also says, "Christ is an august figure." That means distinguished. But while we are looking at the figure of Jesus, we want to be mindful that the artist has placed seven figures in this room capturing the state of mind of each. 

We also want to remember that Vasily Polenov spent a long time in the places where these things happened — where Christianity started up. He wanted to get as close to the historical Jesus as was possible. And so he shows us an ordinary home, with two small tables holding household items. There's a towel drying on the wall and a small oil lamp burning along the top right edge of the room. We see a splendid blanket, big pillows, a decorative rug and a parchment attached to the wall, no doubt a reminder of God's presence. 

Jesus has just spoken the words, "Little girl, arise." She is a sweet and natural girl, but pale, as if life had left her body. As is often his custom, Jesus has courteously taken the girl by the hand, to lift her up. He is depicted without a halo, though instead of casting a dark shadow, there is a soft light around him reflected on the stone wall. 

The girl's mother is just realizing what has happened — not yet having rushed to embrace her child. The father, filled with delight, stands with his hands on his hips — a kind of "Well, what do you know," gesture. The apostles, Peter, James and John are wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Like the morning light streaming in through the doorway and the curtain, it is just beginning to dawn on them what has occurred. 

But of course, if all I do is admire this picture and the gospel account, I have consigned it all to the museum, turned it into a bit of easily neglected history. These gospels are not about the past, nearly so much as they are about right here and right now. So...

Jesus, raise me up too.

Raise me up to my true life.

Raise me up beyond my dread.

Raise me up to awe and wonder.

Raise me up to authentic discipleship.

Jesus, raise us up.

Raise us up beyond ice-veined hatred,

  the hatred du jour,

  especially of the validated kind.

Raise us up beyond paralyzing fears.

Raise us up beyond associations with violence.

Raise us up from the lies we tell ourselves.

Jesus raise us up.

Raise us up beyond the fevered imaginings.

Raise us up beyond vanity and narcissism. 

Raise us up beyond victimized blaming.

Raise us up from every trace of supremacy thinking.

Jesus, raise us up.

Raise us up and out of the bubble-world.

Raise us up from self-protectionism.

Raise us up from posturing,

  crackpot theories and

  in-house propaganda.

Raise us up from self-inflicted harm.

Jesus, raise us up.

Raise us up from the suspicion of others,

  the loss of love thy neighbor,

  and the cyber world that hurts,

  and breaks hearts.

Raise us up from the thingdom come.

Raise us up from arrogant defiance.

Raise us up from the pride of "Let me tell you," talk. 

Jesus, raise us up.

Raise us up to honor the sacrality of our planet.

Raise us up to a verifiable solidarity with others.

Raise us up to take heart.

Raise us up to see each human face.

Jesus, raise us up.

Raise us up to the gracious spirit.

Raise us up to learn again good will.

Raise us up to learn again trust.

Raise us up to a smiling heart.

The Samaritan Woman at the Well ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1900's

 

The Gospel Account of the Samaritan Woman at the Well is found in St. John 4:1-41. I find that no matter how many times I have read it, how familiar I think I am with it, there is always some new word or sense that is waiting to reveal itself to me when I pick it up again. Could I suggest our doing just that?

Jesus is always on the road, so Polenov has put a walking stick in Jesus's hands — to steady himself as he makes his way around a land of uneven ground. We are also told at the start of these verses that Jesus is tired. Tired from his journeying in a hot climate, but perhaps tired as well from the contention that surrounds him wherever he goes. Here, he has just left Judea where Pharisees are in a jealous twist over who is baptizing and how many?

On his way to Galilee Jesus passes through Samaria. Was there another way around this "heretic" land ? Maybe. But you can be sure if Jesus is going to pass through the land of a cursed people he's going to use it as an opportunity to befriend them. 

At noon, the hottest time of the day, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman. She is alone because as a Samaritan, she would not have been welcomed at the well when the Jewish women gathered to collect the water they'd need for the day. She's also not at the well in the afternoon when the Jewish men would have gathered to hang out.

The apostles have gone off food shopping and we are privy to perhaps the most lengthy conversation Jesus has with anyone in the Gospel. Jesus should not be alone with her — she is not his wife. Jesus should not be talking with her — she is a Samaritan. Everything about this woman is wrong — her people don't worship on the right mountain (maybe that's it in the background — Gerazim), they only read a bit of the bible and not the whole thing, they don't acknowledge the right prophets. They were considered worse than heretics. We get a window into the tension of that relationship in Chapter 8:48, "The Jews answered him, "Are we not right in saying that you are are a Samaritan and have a demon?"

Jesus cuts through all the nonsense, all the debates, and lays it out plainly, so plainly we may not be able to handle it.

"Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming and now is, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for such the Father seeks to worship him. God is spirit and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth."  

Could it be that Jesus knows, even into the future, that there's an awful lot of worship in holy places lacking spirit and truth?

Anyway, the conversation continues and (like the women of Easter Morning) this woman runs off happily, leaving her water jar behind. Of course, she's going to have to retrieve it later because her family will need it, but for the purposes of this conversation, she has found a deeper life-source in Christ. Along with that other Samaritan, who picked up, and cleaned up, the beaten up Jew (Luke 10:25-37) Jesus turns a marginalized heretic into a hero.

We like to think of our country as basically Christian. And white. And not a few people are unhappy that's changing. These people consider anyone who's not white and Christian to be a increasingly serious problem. That's why we have terms like "White Supremacy."  They, and others who are sympathetic to their cause, see anyone who is not like them as "other." There's an old and ugly, poisoned pulse in the national heart. That this toxin perdures suggests a certain failure on the part of the Christian religion, which is the religion of heart-turning. But there are some churches, who when they put out an "All Are Welcome" sign, really mean it. I saw a church sign once that read, "Welcome! No questions asked." Bless them.

Cathedral of the Annunciation ~ The Aisle of the Blessed Virgin Mary Chapel ~ Vasily Polenov ~1877

Several splendid historic cathedrals and churches stand within the Kremlin Walls in Moscow, Russia. The Cathedral of the Annunciation (pictured below) was originally the personal church of Moscow's princes and tsars. While there is a central church, there are also five smaller churches interconnected by a gallery. Each chapel is covered with a golden cupola, suggesting lighted candles clustered together. 

While silly tourists often complain that these chapels are too small, Polenov seems to have found a favorite spot within the complex and settled in to paint it, sitting at the end of an aisle in a chapel dedicated to the Annunciation.

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary." Luke 1:26-28

 

In this unusually narrow chapel, the iconostasis is indeed small, only two tiers above the Royal Doors. Normally there would be a row of fifteen feast day icons; here there's room only for eight. And while normally there are two deacon doors in an iconostasis, far left and right; here there is only one.

Polenov is so attentive to detail, we can see the four evangelists on the central closed doors with the Annunciation scene. Above these doors is the deeis row with Christ enthroned in light, the Mother of God and St. John the Baptist interceding, with angels and sainted-bishops on either side. 

Icons are best viewed by candlelight. Maybe a caretaker lit the chandelier candles so Vasily would have some light. At any rate, clearly the artist is in no hurry. He has found his niche— this lovely spot where he can be happy and still. 

How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, God of hosts. My soul is longing and yearning, is yearning for the courts of the Lord. My heart and my soul ring out their joy to God, the living God. Psalm 84:1,2

 

But let us note well: In Eastern Christian Churches (like this one) the altar is behind the wall or screen. While everything is sung, the deacon and the priest come and go at different times to address the congregation. Indeed, when the deacon comes out from behind the iconostasis to lead the sung intercessions, he lifts his stole high in the air, reminiscent of an interceding angel's wing. 

It would be a mistake to think of this icon-wall as a divider, intended to keep the liturgy away from the people. Quite the contrary, rather than a place of division, it is a place of encounter. The icons are of full-faced saints and angels. No personage in an icon gives a communion-breaking profile. The icons serve as "windows" into the heavenly liturgy. The angels and saints, "Holy, Holy, Holy" is echoed here on earth. All the while, the congregation is engaged, never abandoned as spectators. Priest and congregation face east — we are all going to the Lord together!

We might be familiar with the Lady Chapel at St. Patrick's Cathedral in Manhattan, but there is another, found in the Episcopal Church of St. Thomas the Apostle, West 53rd Street and Fifth Avenue. The feeling of intimacy in that chapel (shown here) is profound; it is palpably still. Tourists don't know about it. The polychromed piece over the altar is of Mary at the Cana Wedding. Notice this wonderful feature — how the lines of the arches grow softly and organically up and out of the walls. Like tree branches!

A Small Pond ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1886

 

We've been looking at Vasily Polenov's Life of Christ Cycle for some days. Maybe we could step away for a day to consider this 1886 nature painting I discovered just the other day. We call these kinds of paintings landscapes. But Vasily Polenov loves scenes that are as much views of  water — a river, stream, pond, lake. We might call them waterscapes. Polenov seems to understand water's calming power. 

Here, it appears we are with the artist out on the water, perhaps sitting in a small boat. The water is so filled with plant life it is more green and less reflective of the sky. But there's a great movement of life going on here, much of it invisible. The large, flat leaves of Waterlilies take in oxygen, and through long stems deliver it to the rhizomes (fleshy roots) buried in the mud at the bottom of the pond. I love the vertical streaks that seem to radiate or explode out of the ground between the two trees on the left. There's a path in the middle of the painting connecting the pond with the top of the berm. What a wonderfully alive, summer-cloudy sky.   

Speaking of invisible, we see again that Vasily Polenov is a master not only of water and all the green things, but of painting the sky in its many changing moods. Vasily captures skyscapes. My science-teacher friend writes:

"For me, I like to think of the sky as all of it without end. I don't want the sky to be limited to what my human eyes can perceive. Yes, what we can see can sometimes be quite beautiful...the blue refraction as a canvas, the different hues during a sunrise, the puffy white clouds...but the real beauty is what we can't see, for we can't live without the invisible parts of it. Every molecule contributing to our existence. And at night we can see so much more, which is ironic, because in every other situation that I can think of, darkness limits our vision, but in the absence of light, the universe opens up to us and reveals that we are not alone. With every star, I see other worlds and wonder what and who are out there. And I think that maybe, just maybe, there is a 'someone' out there who is wondering the same thing."

A Second Look ~ "Let him who is without sin" ~ Vasily Polenov

Let's give Polenov's painting the title he gave it, "Let him who is without sin" — the title the censors forbade. And to give us an idea of how large Vasily Polenov's painting is, I've included a photo showing how it's placed in the Russian State Museum.

This painting is the greatest of Polenov's Life of Christ Cycle. I'd suggest its the greatest, not only for its size and artistic accomplishment but for the greatness of its message. The painting's message is, good triumphs over evil. As a boy, I grew up with the message of "Who's going to hell?" "Who are the lost souls?" Not a few Christians, and not just the old timers, still live by it. Witness the Congressman who received a long letter from his family members accusing him of being in "Satan's army" because his vote displeased them. This is low end, magical, naïve religion. 

Jesus forgave the woman. I'm wondering if this "caught in the act" was her profession. Forgiveness looks to understand. Religion has gone off into the weeds when it becomes known for being its condemnations — for its us against them stands.

"Nor do I condemn you..." The meaning of the gospel story and Polenov's depiction is "Forgiveness is the path to God." It's the hardest piece of Christianity. Can we nuance that a bit — forgiveness, compassion and kindness are the path to God. That's why the scene takes place outside the temple — in the places where people live their lives with others — where forgiveness, compassion and kindness are needed most. Some people read this as weakness. I'd disagree. To feel with others in their life-struggle is hard work.

You can do your own online investigation and decide for yourself if the 2013 film Philomena is right for you and anyone in your household. But it is based on a true story; its messages layered and important.

Notice in the painting Jesus doesn't wear a halo; there are no rays coming out of him. He carries a stick though. Not to clobber sinners but because he's a hit-the-road preacher. A stick can be helpful to someone walking on uneven ground. Jesus is an itinerant; aren't we all? 

There are a couple of rubberneckers in this painting. Are they expecting Jesus to get involved in the high drama? Were they disappointed that Jesus didn't further aggravate the situation? We see the fellow on the donkey in the lower right corner and the woman on the stairs, hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun. Maybe what's really dazzling her is the brightness of Christ's teaching. 

There's an awful lot of stone in this scene. The boulder right in the middle is huge beyond belief. Seemingly immovable, it reminds me of Jesus' teaching, "Hypocrite (actor), don't presume to take the splinter out of your brother's/sister's eye without first taking the log out of you own." Matthew 7:5. Lots of folks never get around to that—especially the ones who are the most harsh critics of anyone who's not like them. There's a new book just out giving voice to this anxiety: The End of White Christian America. *

Maybe Jesus is sitting down because he's going to teach. In the ancient world, a teacher sat. Or, maybe he's tired (sick and tired?) of religion that can get so twisted up and misplaced.

But it's early morning in the Gospel and in Polenov's painting — the start of a  new day. That's not just a quaint detail or coincidence. Pray a new day signals a new way.

*Or perhaps the boulder reminds us of the Rule of St. Benedict suggesting to the young monk, "Dash your thoughts against Christ the Stone." An encouragement no less applicable to today when so many people tend to believe: If I think it, it must be so.

Christ and the Woman Caught in Adultery ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1888

What the Word does for the ear, the icon (image) does for the eye. We're familiar with the story here, but may we look again for something new?

2 Early in the morning he came again to the temple; all the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. 3 The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in  adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him, 4 "Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. 5 Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such. What do you say about her?" 6 This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. 7 And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her." 8 And once more he bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. 9 But when they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the eldest, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. 10 Jesus looked up and said to her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" 11 She said, 'No one, Lord," And Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again." John 8:2-11

This Gospel account gets right to the heart of Christ's teaching. So does Polenov's enormous painting, filling an entire wall and dwarfing the museum viewers who come to see it. It is the greatest of Polenov's Life of Christ Cycle. He titled the picture, "Who among you is without sin." But the censors wouldn't approve that title (maybe they felt it hit too close to home) and so they re-named it, "The Woman Caught in Adultery." Better to keep Christ's laser focus on someone else, especially a woman. Some people will go to any lengths to protect their authority. Imagine, forbidding a painter to name his own painting! 

Verse 2: Vasily knows this event took place in the early morning. See the full shadow of the cypress tree against the temple wall. That's an early morning shadow. The crowd of people who are interested in Jesus and what he has to say have followed. They are seated to the left. St. John tells us Jesus  sat down. Sitting is the teacher's posture. But the heart of his teaching will flesh-out in the conversation with the religious officials and the woman. Effective teachers demonstrate, "This is how it's done." 

Verse 3,4: "Placing her in the midst." They treat the woman like she's a thing. Maybe we remember a teacher making an example of another student, or a movie scene in which the town's people drag someone (often a woman) into the square to teach everyone a lesson. In Polenov's painting, we see the poor frightened girl (maybe this is her profession) caught in a great display of power — the furious men seeming to drag and push her at the same time. They've got their fists and weapons in the air, like the January 6 storming of the capitol. All this dust up makes me wonder, what's really going on here? Do these men really care about what Moses taught? And Polenov has the rocks the men will need strewn all across the ground. In our social media world, words are the new ammunition strewn everywhere.

Verse 5,6: "to test him...to bring a charge against him." These men want Jesus to fail their exam. This reminds me of the reporters asking Pope Francis about gay people on the flight back from his first trip. They asked a question they hoped would be good for the next news cycle. Stir the pot; get the world talking about the new pope. Maybe ask the investigative question that might garner a promotion or bonus. I'd suggest we see just how deeply despised Jesus is by looking ahead to verse 48 where the confrontation with Jesus continues, "Are we not right in saying that you are a Samaritan and have a demon?" This is perhaps the nastiest thing they can say to Jesus — "You're a Samaritan." And to be a Samaritan is to have demon. There's a kind of hyper-religious person who loves to tell others they disagree with or disapprove of, "You're in league with the devil." It's the ultimate power grab. 

Notice these men  quote Moses, "Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such."  More power! People still do this — quoting high, higher, highest authorities. They quote bible verses, documents, books and "the tradition" to authenticate themselves. Jesus in unimpressed. He knows what they are up to and doodles on the ground. An extra-biblical gospel account tells us that Jesus was writing their sins in the dust. Look at the painting — see the dividing line of light and shadow between Jesus and the lead spokesman who even appears to be pointing to that line on the ground. As if to say, "The way you answer our question, Jesus, determines whether we're at the point of our going separate ways. And Jesus fails their test because he reveals that forgiveness, compassion and understanding are the path to God.  Notice the scene takes place outside the temple. Again, the religious-spiritual way isn't tucked away safely in the pews, but is outside, where everyday life happens.

Verse 7: "Let him who is without sin be the first to throw a stone." We often see other people as the problem: the baby in the womb, the divorced, the ones who live together the wrong way, the Jews, the Muslims, the black and brown people, "them."  Every nationality that comes to this country has to pass through the gauntlet of hate. With new ferocity, these days it's the Asians. But Jesus knows how we are, and cuts through the nonsense, drawing them out: "Go ahead and kill her if you're not guilty in some way yourself." Some shred of self-awareness must have remained in them; they dropped their ammo and walked away silently. No apology, of course. 

The Gospel account is only 9 verses, but it's huge. So is Polenov's painting. Could I invite us to return here tomorrow, when we can pick  it up again. 

John and James ~ Vasily Polenov ~ c 1900

18 As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. 19 And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." 20 Immediately they left their nets and followed him. 21 And going on from there he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets, and he called them. 22 Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him. Matthew 4: 18-22

What the Word is for our ears, the icon (image) is for our eyes. And Polenov seems to understand, even in the details. 

Verses 18-20 Polenov has even shown us the path following the shoreline. Jesus is inviting followers from two boats. Here, he's already been to the first boat where Peter and Andrew were at work. He's called to them, "Follow me," Two boats in a short distance and in a short  amount of time. The fellows in the first boat aren't sitting out on the water thinking about Jesus' summons, but their response is underway—they've already drawn in the nets and have pulled into shore.

Verse 21. Second boat. Jesus has an arm outstretched, as if he's calling to them, "Hey, I'm talking to you!" And we see James and John already turned in Jesus' direction—even leaning to hear more clearly. Old bearded Zebedee and the mystery companion, maybe not as much. 

Verse 22. This is the second time the word, "Immediately" appears in five verses. A hopeful fellow who has just proposed to his intended may say, "Take some time to think about it." A mother may cut some slack when she calls her children to bedtime. We don't know the depth of response Jesus expected when he called out to Peter, Andrew, James and John, but their response was immediate. The word "immediately" even sounds urgent. Something needs to be addressed. We get it — the agitated TV voice says, "Make your call right now to get not one, but two..." 

In all things related to Christ (which is really all of my life) I would like to feel a sense of surprise — of desire — of quick response to a heart-summons.

Christ Among the Teachers ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1896

This Gospel account is familiar to us. It is even the last of the Rosary's Joyful Mysteries: Finding  Jesus in the Temple. But Polenov calls his painting, Christ Among the Teachers. 

I like how Vasily Polenov depicts the event so accurately — a kind of Day in the Life of the Jerusalem Temple. Notice the shoes in the lower right corner. There's a man looking down into the big, open room from an upstairs balcony. Another man is climbing the stairs. Two men below the staircase are talking. We needn't imagine they're talking about God, they could be gossiping, telling jokes or comparing their old-man aches and pains. Maybe there's an exchange of money. It doesn't get more ordinary than that. But look, in the center is a young boy among older men. We know it's the young Jesus. He isn't  teaching, but listening and asking questions as St. Luke  tells us:

After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions..." Luke 2: 46

But there's another very tender part of the story. Have you seen it? Mary is standing in the archway to the right. As small as she is, we can sense her anxiety.

Jesus is very small, almost cocoon like, wrapped in white, waiting to open up. And Mary and Joseph are non-entities, from nowhere towns. In another gospel place Jesus is dismissed: "Isn't this the carpenter's son? Isn't his mother's name Mary? Matthew 13:55. Later, when Jesus will tell us about God and the things of God, he will reference things that are little or small: a little lost lamb, a little seed, a little bit of yeast, a little bird, an insignificant lily, a little widow with the least valuable coin...

Jesus won't spend the rest of his life sitting in the temple or atop a mountain, but he'll take what he learns from these men of religion — God's close-as-can-be loving kindness, and then take it outside and beyond the temple precincts. Maybe that's why Polenov shows us three views of the outside world — two downstairs and one upstairs. The spiritual path of Jesus is not a stay-at-home religion — not a religion to be left behind in the pew with the hymnal. 

What a wonder — the twelve year old, son of the carpenter, grew and gave us a spiritual way that endures until today and which has found each of us. This is a wonderful painting of a very wonderful event.

"Was Filled With Wisdom" ~ Vasily Polenov ~ c1900

 

This is a wonderful painting (which Polenov seems to have painted twice in as many years). There is no gospel page that tells us the young Jesus went to school with the Jewish elders, but maybe Polenov is imagining the verses which end the account of the twelve year old Jesus being found in the temple: "And he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them...and Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and man." Luke 2:51,52.

Notice way over on the left we see just the edge of an archway where one might enter this little courtyard. That space is dark and filled with clay jars. The corner looks stained and lifeless. But then, just right of the center of the scene there is a staircase. As the steps ascend, the light increases, until it is a kind of dazzling, white light. There is the play of colored light on the stone wall and in the air, and the sky is cloud-filled and lovely.

Perhaps this is what wisdom does — it takes us up into light.  Wisdom is one of those religious words that can leave us feeling empty — "What does this have to do with me and the practical things of my life?" 

Wisdom is not being able to give sage advice. May I suggest wisdom is plainly, God's thoughts. A Christian gets insight into those thoughts by listening to Jesus Christ. And Jesus said, 

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are my disciples if you have love for one another." John 13:34,35

"This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you...This I command you, to love one another." John 15:12,17

The Russian painter, Ivan Kramskoi, a contemporary of Vasily Polenov, and whose portrait of Vasily's grandmother we saw here on February 23, said, "Christianity has never been organically assimilated into humanity, nor has it ever been properly understood."

Perhaps that is so because we tend to complicate things. One priest wrote "You cannot understand Christianity unless you understand metaphysics." What a bizarre statement. Maybe we are tempted to complicate the wisdom of Jesus, because to live it may horrify us. We may very well have to change our minds. And if we really explored this (the changing of our minds) on Sunday morning, honestly and deeply, some people would walk out. Some clergy worry too much about that.

A professor of American history said in a recent interview, "When the Civil War ended, it was the military part that ended, but minds didn't change. There are some Americans who think only they are the real Americans — white and Christian. They see that America is becoming less white and less Christian, and they are angry about that. Those others are not real Americans — and they are afraid of losing power to them."

Well, there it is — what's being called our "original sin." I remember (for real) the 6th grade boy asking the nun, "Sister, what would happen if a black woman wanted to join your order?" Sister answered, "We'd send her to the Sisters of Providence — they wear almost the same habit and do the same work. She'd be more comfortable there." YIKES! The Oblate Sisters of Providence are a religious order of black women founded in the 19th century by Mary Lange, essentially because it was a widely held belief that black women were incapable of leading virtuous lives. 

~ ~ ~ 

Prayer Before Polenov's Painting "Was Filled With Wisdom"

Young Jesus, your white-capped mind, filled with divine thoughts — the nation of  e pluribus unum needs forgiveness for our lineal sin — the sin of our founding, of our expansion, our enslavements, our theft, our before and after civil war sin, our 1950's and 60's sin, our supremacist-ego-nationalist-twisted-patriot sin, our January 6, 2021 sin. Shine the revealing light we need to understand well your wisdom-call of love, not to tease out comforting exceptions — and then the courage and strength to live it. Amen.

On the Lake of Tiberias ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1888

 

These great pock-marked boulders and rocks along the edge of the Sea of Tiberias (aka Galilee, Gennesaret) were born of volcanic activity and smoothed by water over the geologic millennia. How attentive Polenov is to their appearance. What delight he takes in the world! Look at how transparent the water is along the left forefront corner — as if we could step into the sea and pick out a stone. Notice the very thin horizontal shoreline on the far side of the lake, and the haze over the water. 

Notice too the ruts in the hills. And when the wind blows, those ruts act like funnels, creating sudden and great storms — the kind that we read of in Mt 8:23-27, Mk 4:35-41, Lk 8:22-25.  And here is Jesus walking in this ancient world. Polenov wrote that he wanted to convey Jesus, "who has truly come to earth, and is following his path among the people." Vasily shows us Jesus, literally walking along a narrow seaside path. 

But I have a life-path to walk too. There are challenges. Buddhism teaches that at the root of every suffering we can find one or more of these dangerous poisons: greed (all our lusts, thirsts, uncontrolled desires), anger (the passions of hatred, contention, resentment), ignorance (even stupidity: conspiracy, lies, idolatry of persons, rejection of knowledge, "buying into" the ridiculous). There are of course antidotes to these toxins: compassion, generosity, peacemaking, learning.

St. Paul writes in the Letter to the Romans: "Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and mature." Romans 12:2

Years ago I came across this fitting prayer in the Cathedral of Durham, England. Actually, it is titled, Prayer for the Lighting of a Candle. 

O Christ our Savior,

shed your light upon the path I have to tread,

that I may keep it without stumbling and without faltering,

and come in the end to see you face to face

 in the heavenly kingdom.

Amen

Lake Genneserat ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1880's

 

It is said that Assisi is filled with such a variety of wild flowers because God knew one day St. Francis would walk there. I can imagine Vasily Polenov had a similar insight when he first saw this panoramic view of Lake Gennesaret, full of blue and green space, light and air. God knew one day Jesus of Nazareth would walk and teach here.

Polenov was fascinated with the person and story of Jesus. With this early landscape the artist seems to pull up the curtain on what will follow — his extensive Life of Christ Cycle. But Vasily doesn't paint the Jesus of high-theology; his interest was the historical Jesus, who we would have encountered were we to have walked along this blue sea.

Of course, the canvas has limiting parameters and so we see only a small corner and edge of the Sea of Galilee (aka Gennesaret) which is Israel's largest freshwater lake — 38 miles around, 13 miles long, 8 miles wide, 141 feet deep. 

Polenov traveled extensively to this part of the world to experience first hand the geography, architecture, people, culture, and perhaps especially the light. It's an abundant light. Vasily might say, abundantly bright, as Christ's teachings are bright. Look at that great rock in the bottom right corner of the painting. The sun is rising (or setting—the back half is in shadow) which makes the rock seem to glow. Jesus' Sermon on the Mount glows (Matthew 5,6,7).

And as this light-filled, beauty-filled panorama is vast, so is our interior landscape vast. Why do we try to fill it with so much else — conspiracy, foolishness, denial and desire.

In his encyclical letter, Fratelli tutti, Pope Francis writes:

I ask God to prepare our hearts to encounter our brothers and sisters, so that we may overcome our differences rooted in political thinking, language, culture and religion. Let us ask him to anoint our whole being with the balm of his mercy, which heals the injuries caused by mistakes, misunderstandings and disputes. And Let us ask God for the grace to send us forth, in humility and meekness, along the demanding but enriching path of seeking peace. 

Mary Went to the Upland Country ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1900's

This is the first painting of Vasily Polenov's Life of Christ Cycle. With the advances of science and the spread of secularism, the second half of the 19th century in Europe was marked by a large scale abandonment of traditional religious teaching and practice. That doesn't mean people had given up on the spiritual quest, but they were reading the Gospels in a new light and asking new questions.

So, while Vasily Polenov had drifted from the Russian Orthodox Church, he was still very much interested in the person of Jesus, though as a historical figure, not divine. Indeed, among his contemporaries there were not a few who believed Jesus never existed and that the Gospels were no more real than the ancient Greek and Roman myths. 

Vasily believed Jesus to be a "great soul," a teacher of the highest ethic or morality. His Life of Christ Cycle would present Jesus as very close to the viewer—in solidarity with ordinary people in their simple feelings of joy, sorrow, suffering and hope. It is said, that while people may have been leaving the churches, Polenov's paintings of Jesus' life brought many to a new faith. No artist can predict how his/her paintings will impact people in the future. If we didn't know the story, we might not know the persons depicted as Jesus and Mary. But isn't that what Christian mystery is— not an impossible puzzle to be solved, but God so close, we can miss it. I think that's it. 

Here, Mary is on her way through the ups and downs, the twists and turns of the hill country to see Elizabeth, her elder relative who is six months pregnant. The people who first saw Vasily's Christ paintings were amazed at his new, brilliant-light color palette. Mary has just passed an ancient, gnarled olive tree. The path around the mountain edge is narrow. Notice how the light hits the stoney path—so different from the light of Europe. The mountains and hills are very accurately depicted. Vasily had spent long months in the land of Jesus to learn the light, the landscape and the people. 

The Gospel doesn't tell us Mary carried anything along the way, Polenov has imagined it, and rightly so. This was a long trek by foot and Mary intended to stay with her relative for some time. What woman visits without bringing gifts?! 

No halo; no starry, gold trimmed, powder-blue mantle, but a young pregnant woman wearing the colors of the poor. Mary is off to share good news and there is light all around her.

And here is a photo of the huge painting titled, "The Appearance of Christ to the People," by Alexander Ivanov (1806 -1858). It took Ivanov twenty years to complete his opus magnum (1837-57). The artist has taken liberties, combining several gospel accounts into one. We see John the Baptist standing at the very edge of the River Jordan. The apostles John, Peter, Andrew and Nathaniel stand behind John. Young and old have found their way to the Jordan. Some of these have known only struggle and sorrow—folks who could do with some good news. Center-right in the front of the crowd, we see the rich, young man who, looking a little snarky perhaps, isn't ready to follow Jesus. We see Jesus, wearing red and blue, alone in the distance. Some people have already turned their attention towards him and the Roman soldiers on horseback already have him in their sights.

It is said that Vasily Polenov saw Ivanov's tremendous work in the museum when he was a boy and that it inspired him to create his own extensive Life of Christ Cycle.

 

Oka Valley ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1902

 

This is one of a number of times Vasily Polenov painted the Oka River Valley. Wherever we go, nature is beautiful, inviting us to pause and ponder. Here we are high up on hill looking out at an enormous panorama of the valley and the well known river.

It is early autumn. Polenov loves moments like this — the first gradual and subtle signs of a seasonal change. There are white clouds piled high. But way over to the left, darkness is moving in that will change the look of the river yet again. To the left, in the distance, there is a soft line of trees with leaves already turning.

There are no people in this painting — not even a boat on the river. There are no animals — not a bird in sight. We still feel the summer, but we know fall is arriving and winter will follow. And so we soak up that last bit of a summer we wish could stay a little longer.  

But this is important too. Vasily Polenov painted the Oka River over and over,  in all seasons, at different times of the day or evening, from high up over the river and down below in the valley, far from Tarusa and close by. His practice is not unlike that of Camille Pissarro who would set up his easel on a street, finish a painted draft, then turn the easel and his chair and paint the same street facing a new direction. As we go about the day, do we really know how to say thank you.

Oka Summer Day ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1890's

 

Here, on a brilliantly lit summer day, Vasily Polenov is perched up on a bank, looking out at the Oka River. Tomorrow, we'll see his vision of the same river from an even higher angle. The Oka is in Central Russia and the largest right tributary of the Volga. It meanders through regions with wonderful names like Oryol, Tula, Kaluga, Moscow, Ryazan, Vladimir, Novgorod. There are twenty cities and towns found along the Oka. We see one of those towns far off downstream in the distance. Is that the church tower rising up? 

Notice the sandy beach on the left where the current isn't as strong, and the long, grassy, sloped bank on the far side of the river. I like those young aspen and birch trees in the right front corner. Each leaf is on a long stem that allows the leaves to flutter with even a slight breeze. Sometimes the underneath of the aspen leaves appear silvery when that happens. Way off, above the small city, are some large areas without trees. Could the townspeople have chopped them all down? After heavy rains, a hill or mountain without trees can avalanche without soil-holding roots. Disastrous things can happen when we lose our nature-connection.

While there seems to be some fellow paddling around in the middle of the river, Polenov is in solitude while painting this river. There's no watching audience around him, no class of students trying to learn the tricks of the trade. He has his way of immersing himself in the beauty he sees; his own way of expressing it. He is invisible in this world before the all-seeing drones. In his book, The Center of All Beauty, Fenton Johnson dedicates a chapter to Bill Cunningham, a renowned on-the-street fashion photographer. He says of Mr. Cunningham:

"...a teacher opening our eyes to a way of looking at and being in the world — could originate  only in  someone who from earliest consciousness rehearsed being (to use his word) "invisible." And who is best at being invisible? The gay child, the abused child, the wounded child, the misfit, the outlier, the solitary."

We live in an extroverted country, but I still expect there's an invisible solitary in each of us. During Lent we might expend some effort to connect with that inner solitary — to bring him/her forward and to give voice. I have a friend who spends some time each winter day with binoculars watching and counting the many bird varieties at his backyard feeder. I know a woman who begins her day, before her husband is up and around, sitting by her back sliding doors with her tea, just looking out at the stream which leads down to the river. I knew a parishioner years ago who listened to Gregorian Chant on the train ride to work each morning.

Lang Elliott is a nature recordist who goes to solitary places — forests, fields, seashores — where he records the sounds of the wind, the water, the birds, insects and other animals. The link is called "Music of Nature." You can discover the recordings if you click on below. See what happens when you go to a solitary place.

Lang Elliott – Music of Nature · Yasuni Soundscapes - Ecuador 2018

Chapel on the Banks of the Oka River ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1893

 

Psalm 121:2 says: "Our feet were standing in your courts, O Jerusalem."  The psalmist has in mind the joy he feels standing inside Jerusalem's great temple — a place so splendid it was impossible to look when the sun was reflected off the golden roof. Contrast here, Vasily Polenov stands near a tiny wooden chapel on the bank of the Oka River. How solitary, modest and humble. The morning sun produces a soft radiance on the conical wooden roof with the little cupola and cross..

May you be awakened heart and mind this new day.

May you be blessed by God whose love ever incarnates.

May you be reassured by the chapel's open door.

May you be confirmed in generosity at this expanse.

May you be calmed in the heavenliness of this altitude.

May you find pause in the stillness.

May you discover grateful communion in this captured moment.

May you experience healing in the roof's burnished glow.

May you feel fresh vitality in the abundant green — the clustered birch saplings, the river's echo.

May you learn your way by the water's meandering; the climbing hillside path.

May you be fortified in contemplating the distant ancient rocks.

May you abandon old thinking in this gentle dawn.

May you realize something new by the purple horizon.

Saviour-Jacob Monastery in Rostov ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1860

 

Artists will sketch on just about anything — an index card, a paper napkin, the edge of a tablecloth, a scrap of cardboard, the back of a restaurant bill.

If the date of this pencil or charcoal sketch of the Saviour-Jacob monastery is correct (1860), Vasily Polenov would have been 16 years old when he came upon the well known and much revered place. It is said by pilgrims approaching the monastery, "It seems to float on water." 

The Saviour-Jacob Monastery was founded in 1389 by St. Iakov of Rostov who was banished from his town for having spared a woman who had been sentenced to death. The Church might claim him as the patron saint of those who are opposed to capital punishment — believing that the turning of hearts and minds is the principal mission of the church and that killing someone for their crimes makes that conversion impossible. We might say that opposition to capital punishment is the ultimate mercy — seeking someone's healing instead of death. 

Often, it is the horror of life that causes one to become a monk, as Trappist monasteries overflowed with candidates returning from the horror of the Second World. So, instead of losing his mind over the meanness of life, Iakov of Rostov went off and founded a monastery.

While nothing remains of the original 14th century buildings, today, the monastery is a collection of several exceptionally beautiful churches built over the centuries. The Saviour Monastery has a long history and endured great suffering, especially during the seventy years of Soviet rule. Beginning in 1918 the Church lost all control — the place was looted and turned into a soldier's barracks and army infirmary, a prison, government offices, a concentration camp and detention center for juvenile delinquents. 

When Joseph Stalin came to power in 1922, one of his first instructions was to have the bells of all the churches and monasteries across Russia removed, to "silence the voice" of the Church. The Savior-Jacob monks were expelled; liturgical services ended in 1929. Utterly dilapidated, the complex was finally returned to the Church in 1991. Today, it has been restored; a small and young community of monks presses on. 

One of those monks says the essential quality of a monk is hard work and humility. Well, lots of folks know hard work, especially these winter, Covid days. Humility comes from the Latin word, humus, which is good earth. Humility means, I'm down to earth about myself. I don't take myself so seriously. I always have a lot to learn, not from books, but about myself and what it means to be a full human person. That's what the Incarnation is — in Christ, God has come into the world with a human face to show us how to live compassionate lives.

In the recent photo below we are standing in the exact spot where young Vasily sketched the Saviour-Jacob Monastery. Only the trees have changed, and the movement of clouds, and the shoreline plants in the wind. The priest-martyr, Father Alexander Men, wrote, "God has given us two books: the Bible and Creation."

The Oyat River ~ Vasily Polenov ~ 1880

This is the Oyat River in Russia. It flows for 165 miles. Photographs taken today show it to be (at least in its cleanest sections) like lapis, a magnificent ultramarine blue. The world is packed with beauty; nothing on the earth is unremarkable. I knew a surgeon who studied and cataloged all the native plants on Long Island. He resented their being called, "weeds." 

Standing a little bit up on a rise and looking down on the Oyat River, our first sense might be one of isolation. But if we look more closely we see signs that people are near — up front and to the left, we see a tree stump. A little further along on the left we see hay bales (which also suggests it is mid-summer, if not later). Across the river, on the the other side, there is a cultivated field. Has the grass in that field been cut, remaining in the field to dry in the sun before being baled? We might be able to smell the freshly cut grass. 

Highly reflective, the river moves along slowly. Only a light breeze stirs the water's surface. Look at the trees mirrored in the water along the shore. It is a clear day and we can see hills beyond hills. This could be the Delaware River in New York or Pennsylvania, USA. Perhaps Polenov has placed two young white birch trees off to the far left of the painting as a suggestion that this river flows in Russia. 

The Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, saw himself as the New Adam, writing, "Paradise is all around." The gate of heaven opens up to us from the vantage point we share with Vasily Polenov. There is the stillness, the breeze, the freshness, the light. Undoubtedly, there is bird-song. All of God's seven day creation is here, brand new.

A final thought. Notice that around the tree stump we see small plants popping up. If human beings were suddenly gone — off the scene — plants would heal the world we've poisoned, dug up and chopped down. Plants really own the planet; not us. In God's creation-week, plants appeared on day three. Sunlight, moon and stars were created on day four. Maybe the plants in the Genesis story survived the day without astronomical light, thriving by God's own light. Humans don't appear until day six. 

The Oyat River Today ~ Photo by Timin Ilya