A Dimly Burning Wick …

There are two art works in my office of which I am particularly fond. One is an extract from Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son, completed in 1669, and the other is Sieger Köder’s The Last Supper, completed three centuries later.

In both I can see the grace and generosity of God. In Rembrandt’s work, a father embraces his kneeling, dissipated, wretched son. The father is aged, perhaps blind, but his welcome and love sees everything to welcome his son home.

In Köder’s work, Jesus has his back to us, as he shares the last meal with his disciples. Jesus’ face is reflected in the wine he is serving and the clustered, confused disciples are there to receive more than wine and bread.
In warm embrace for withered arms,
in dining out with tarnished guests
in breaking umpteen petty rules,
in controversial, quiet requests,
barriers dividing heaven from earth
were bulldozed to reveal our worth.

As with any fine story, or the best parables, there is more to discover than the immediate wonder at hand. If we look deeper into the pictures, past the prodigal’s father, beyond the disciples, each has a shadowed figure at the margin of the frame. In some prints, it is almost impossible to see Rembrandt’s character; questions have been asked for three hundred years as to who it might be. Is it the artist himself? Is it us, watching this profound grace in action? Is it the mother of the sons, watching, thankful, as this moment takes place?

In the shadows of Köder’s painting, we are sure it is Judas, heading for the door and betrayal. He is portrayed in darkness, as his life is now engulfed. Still, Jesus has shared the meal with Judas already, knowing the shadow on his disciple’s heart and the implications of it for all the world.
He will not cry or lift up his voice,
or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
he will faithfully bring forth justice. [Isaiah 42.2-3]

In both these works we experience the profound depths – and breadth – of grace. Those embraced in the light we know, because we have felt this grace ourselves, perhaps more than once. The fumbling failures and denials of the disciples, the profligate waste of the wandering son are embraced and healed in the presence of God.

And those in the shadow are not beyond the grace of God. The Psalmist for this week tries to explain it and none has done it better.
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast. [Psalm 139.8-10]

Sometimes we can believe ourselves too much beyond God’s forgiveness, God’s love, God’s grace. Our journey through Christmas and the following weeks assure us that the story of God in the world is God for all the world. Is the prodigal Judas beyond God’s grace? At our most broken, is not the cross speaking most truly?

We will walk further up and in further in to this grace of God and discover more of Emmanuel, God with Us.

May God bless you in shadow and light this week.