Open door
Open door
Lent 2008-02-07
After the ecumenical ashes-distribution service we sang "Christ is our light". Leaving the church the people were almost blinded by the light of the setting sun which was pouring through the door horizontally over the people and then onto the cross behind the altar. The door of light became the symbol of Lent as the time of preparing for the Feast of Easter, feast of light for the redeemed people, set free by the Resurrection of Christ.
Lent for some people lasts much longer than seven weeks. Like a drought, which can last for months, sometimes for years, brings suffering to farmers, so is it with the time of Lent when so many people are suffering from a spiritual thirst. They go on a pilgrimage to the well that never runs dry, a pilgrimage over mountains of doubts, under clouds of despair swirling
in ever threatening circles.
While pilgrims start on their journey, they have expectations of joy, of discovery and achievement. But often they find sadness, disillusionment and loneliness. They experience confusion, darkness and fears.
Some started their journey many years ago attracted by a wonderful dream, a vision of showing others the door of happiness. A real mission. But their dream became a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous. Meeting other people on the same road they felt enthusiasm, but also tension and disappointment. The company of others with a different expectation stopped them in self-examination: "Can we live up to the dream? Are there boundaries, which will prevent us from trusting the other completely? Are we able to tune our ear to the sound of our fellow travellers? Yes, for a pilgrimage gives a wider view of grace."
In the far distance they see the door of happiness. Sometimes the door disappears in the mist of doubt. The pilgrims wander. They have no way to give voice to what has been lost, no way to move on, grieving for all that is still unfinished. They still miss the strength to remake life. But still they move on. They wonder, "Could the door of happiness be a door of a church?"
With that question in my mind I began to paint:
In the centre rises a church with a red door. It swings open, but only half of it. Behind the half open door there is a cool light. The invisible stain-glass windows are waiting for the light, jewellike images of saints and biblical scenes are reflected on the hills around the church, a riot of colours. How tranquil this seems in contrast, the colours stable, fixed, falling though the air.
In front of the church there are traces of struggle. Was it worries and anxieties that left their marks? Perhaps it is the silence that causes the pilgrim to take tentative steps leading to the empty centre aisle: Silence and sense of peace, but also emptiness. He notices how the light in front of the church is reflected in the water (water of life?), but also the dusty air. The pilgrimwalks through this light: red, dark blue, gold; but then he stops.
While pilgrims start on their journey, they have expectations of joy, of discovery and achievement. But often they find sadness, disillusionment and loneliness. They experience confusion, darkness and fears.
Some started their journey many years ago attracted by a wonderful dream, a vision of showing others the door of happiness. A real mission. But their dream became a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous. Meeting other people on the same road they felt enthusiasm, but also tension and disappointment. The company of others with a different expectation stopped them in self-examination: "Can we live up to the dream? Are there boundaries, which will prevent us from trusting the other completely? Are we able to tune our ear to the sound of our fellow travellers? Yes, for a pilgrimage gives a wider view of grace."
In the far distance they see the door of happiness. Sometimes the door disappears in the mist of doubt. The pilgrims wander. They have no way to give voice to what has been lost, no way to move on, grieving for all that is still unfinished. They still miss the strength to remake life. But still they move on. They wonder, "Could the door of happiness be a door of a church?"
With that question in my mind I began to paint:
In the centre rises a church with a red door. It swings open, but only half of it. Behind the half open door there is a cool light. The invisible stain-glass windows are waiting for the light, jewellike images of saints and biblical scenes are reflected on the hills around the church, a riot of colours. How tranquil this seems in contrast, the colours stable, fixed, falling though the air.
In front of the church there are traces of struggle. Was it worries and anxieties that left their marks? Perhaps it is the silence that causes the pilgrim to take tentative steps leading to the empty centre aisle: Silence and sense of peace, but also emptiness. He notices how the light in front of the church is reflected in the water (water of life?), but also the dusty air. The pilgrimwalks through this light: red, dark blue, gold; but then he stops.
"Am I allowed in this sacred place?"
He turns and goes outside.
The red door is half open, half shut. The pilgrim knows about a slamming door, so fast that it left him in a state of grief. He felt excluded, restricted in his dreams. At other times the door closed slowly, squeezing him out of breath, until he had to step aside and let himself be locked out. But Now! "Shall I break the rule, whatever it says; whoever gave it?" Karl Rahner stated:" In the torment of the insufficiency of everything attainable, we finally learn that here in this life all symphonies must remain unfinished."
The pilgrim hesitates awhile, but thent hurries up inside again and thinks: "I will be more at peace if I accept the fact that inside the church there is not such a thing as clear-cut joy.
The red door is half open, half shut. The pilgrim knows about a slamming door, so fast that it left him in a state of grief. He felt excluded, restricted in his dreams. At other times the door closed slowly, squeezing him out of breath, until he had to step aside and let himself be locked out. But Now! "Shall I break the rule, whatever it says; whoever gave it?" Karl Rahner stated:" In the torment of the insufficiency of everything attainable, we finally learn that here in this life all symphonies must remain unfinished."
The pilgrim hesitates awhile, but thent hurries up inside again and thinks: "I will be more at peace if I accept the fact that inside the church there is not such a thing as clear-cut joy.
I have to accept that."
I know that my symphony of colours is not finished. "Have I illustrated the pilgrim’s expectation appropriately? Was it an over-expectation and subsequent disillusionment? NO, no one can fully measure up. Our hearts are always restless. The pilgrimage never ends.
I know that my symphony of colours is not finished. "Have I illustrated the pilgrim’s expectation appropriately? Was it an over-expectation and subsequent disillusionment? NO, no one can fully measure up. Our hearts are always restless. The pilgrimage never ends.
The door is always open"
I hope that we all have a fruitful journey of Lent.
I hope that we all have a fruitful journey of Lent.
Easter is waiting for us.
God Bless
John Heijnen
God Bless
John Heijnen
posted by Johannes @ 3:59 PM
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