Masterpieces large and small...

The past four days have been a study in contrasts for me. Thursday night we flew to New York City for a wedding in Central Park. We had never visited New York City so we stayed a few days extra and took in some sights. I have always wanted to visit The Cloisters, a museum of medieval art. Remnants of medieval cloisters and chapels reconstructed in lovely gardens on the far northern end of Manhattan island was an experience of the sacred in the midst of the secular.
I couldn’t help but contrast my two museum experiences in my reflections this morning.
Visitors to The Cloisters spoke in hushed tones. Quiet and decorum, perhaps influenced by the sanctity of the stones that surrounded us, were a welcome break from the noise and perpetual rush of the city. All around me were the art and faith survivors from the middle ages. The illuminated manuscripts were beautiful and I studied them carefully, recognizing the skill it took to produce work that could last through the ages. And who knew that communion wine used to be sipped through a straw? For those long ago believers, the wine truly became Christ’s blood and they did not want to spill it.
As so often happens, there was one work of art that spoke to my soul. I went back to it several times, standing in quiet meditation, time traveling and remembering. The two pieces were painted on wood in a gothic arch shape. One was of Jesus on the cross with Mary and others gathered around. The second companion piece was of Jesus, down from the cross stretched out, with Mary lying down beside him. The faces pulled me in... called to me... rendered with great feeling and detail, so lifelike and filled with grief and confusion. The prone figures of mother and son, the awful grief and loss, the gathering of loved ones around the mother and son, echoed in my heart and reminded me we never are truly alone even in our darkest hours.
Our second museum was the Museum of Modern Art in downtown Manhattan. It was just a few blocks from our hotel so we walked to it and entered an open soaring space filled with people and noise. Languages from around the world, children, lines, bubbling activity wherever you looked... We began with the Matisse exhibit on the sixth floor exploring and learning about the artist and his methods.
It was crowded and we were caught up in the museum fever... see as much as you can because time is flying by... when we saw her. A little girl, maybe four or five, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a painting with her drawing pad. She would look a little and draw a little, look and draw. Her composition was taking shape and she was not only seeing but drawing what she saw. Around her was a little still island of space as the busy noisy adults gave her the room she needed.
I will remember the beautiful paintings I saw on Monday. There were so many I have only seen in pictures or prints and they came to life for me in the midst of that crowded busy museum. But most of all I will carry in my heart the image of a little girl taking time to look, see and draw what was in front of her. She was a masterpiece in her own right. She will help me to remember to live in the present, mindful of what is right in front of me. She calls me to draw what I see and in the drawing to make a new creation that reflects the Old Master who created me.
Thanks be to God for the work of our hands that brings beauty and order to our world. I want my life to be a work of art, Lord, that is a still point of creation and connection. Give me eyes to see and a heart that is open to both noise and quiet, chaos and order so that I might find you in New York City and Alexander, North Carolina. Amen.