All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls, but the word of the Lord endures forever.
—1 Peter 1:24–25
LOOK: French Exit by Tadao Cern
Tadao Cern (Lithuanian, 1983–), French Exit, 2020. Installation of dried grass.
In this installation by Tadao Cern, hundreds of thousands of dried grass stalks are suspended from the ceiling, creating a dense cloud under which viewers can walk. It’s an organic memento mori, a reminder of death. The title, French Exit, refers to the act of leaving a social gathering or a date without saying goodbye. The artist said he wanted viewers to consider their farewells.
Throughout the duration of the installation, some of the dead grass falls from the hovering field onto the floor, to be swept away.
Lent starts next Wednesday, February 18, so I want to remind you about my Lent Playlist on Spotify. There are plenty of songs for contemplative listening throughout the season. I periodically add new entries to the bottom. Recent additions include a song by Amanda Held Opelt about being in the belly of a whale; “Living Water” by Sr. Miriam Therese Winter of the Medical Mission Sisters; Paul Zach’s cover of Johnny Cash’s “The Beast in Me”; and a setting of Matthew 4:17 by Seth Thomas Crissman of The Soil and The Seed Project, whose parallel verse, Mark 1:15, is commonly recited with the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday.
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VIDEO ART: Quarta-Feira de Cinzas / Epilogue(Ash Wednesday / Epilogue) by Rivane Neuenschwander with Cao Guimarães: When visiting the Museum of Modern Art in New York last month, I encountered a video work from Brazil that I found mesmerizing. The Perez Art Museum Miami describes it this way:
In Rivane Neuenschwander’s video Quarta-Feira de Cinzas / Epilogue (Ash Wednesday / Epilogue), made in collaboration with artist Cao Guimarães, ants become the protagonists of a captivating journey. Shot on Ash Wednesday, after the end of Brazilian Carnival, the video follows a colony of leafcutter ants as they traverse the rough terrain of a forest floor, transporting pieces of colored confetti to their underground nest. The video is set to a digitally composed soundtrack that blends ambient natural sounds with the sound of matchsticks dropping onto the floor. At the video’s end, we watch the ants descend into the darkness of their nest, intent, perhaps, on furnishing a celebration of their own.
Rivane Neuenschwander (Brazilian, 1967–) with Cao Guimarães (Brazilian, 1965–), Quarta-Feira de Cinzas / Epilogue (Ash Wednesday / Epilogue), 2006. High-definition video (color, sound), 5:44 min. Photo courtesy of Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, New York.
Originating in the Middle Ages, Carnival—from the Latin carve vale, meaning “flesh, farewell!” (flesh = meat)—is a period of merrymaking before the solemn restraints of Lent. It’s primarily a secular folk custom, celebrated by many with hedonistic parties involving excessive drinking. But Carnival need not be debauched, and some Christians celebrate it with social gatherings, games, parades, and/or food traditions. A Polish Catholic coworker of mine would always bring pączki (jelly donuts) to the office on Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras in French), the day before Ash Wednesday. Some churches host a pancake supper on that evening, using up eggs, milk, and sugar, ingredients that were historically forbidden during Lent, along with bacon and sausage. At The Liturgical Home, Ashley Tumlin Wallace describes Fat Tuesday as a transition day moving God’s people out of Epiphanytide.
Neuenschwander and Guimarães’s Ash Wednesday / Epilogue is, first and foremost, fun and playful. We don’t tend to think of insects having parties! I wonder what the ants are doing with those vibrant little metallized discs. But the video also, for me, captures something of the tone of the first day of Lent—a quiet sweeping up after the previous day’s festivities, the humans of this place having left their revelries to go to church, where they enter a time of penitence.
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BLOG POST: “Ash Wednesday” by Libby John: I really appreciated these four guided journal prompts that Libby John, founder of the Vivid Artistry creative collective, gave last Lent:
What is something in my life I am seeking for God to renew and restore?
What rhythms in my life need to be interrupted and reoriented to God’s heart for me?
What are some ways I can surrender my schedule to help attune my senses to more of God’s presence?
Am I bringing my whole self to God or do I divide and keep parts of my life from him?
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ARTICLE: “Anya Gallaccio’s Organic Mementos Mori” by Eliza Goodpasture, Hyperallergic: Rotting apples threaded with hanging twine, shriveling red daisies pressed between plexiglass, burning candles creating waxen landscapes on aluminum foil, a hundred-plus-year-old ash tree stricken with ash dieback disease—these were among the memento mori (reminders of death) installed at artist Anya Gallaccio’s exhibition preserve at Turner Contemporary in Margate, England, in fall 2024. “The potency of the transient works is so magnetic,” writes reviewer Eliza Goodpasture. “The Christian motif of dust to dust undergirds it all. . . . The artist reminds us that decay is full of energy—not just an ending, but part of an endless circle of life.”
Anya Gallaccio (Scottish, 1963–), Falling from grace, 2000. 2,700 Gala apples, hop twine. Installation view at Turner Contemporary, Margate, 2024. Photo: Jo Underhill, courtesy of the artist.
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SONGS:
>> “Turning” by Deanna Witkowski:Deanna Witkowski is a jazz composer and pianist living in Chicago. She wrote this choral piece for Lent, a season in which the liturgies call us to turn away from sin and toward God. That’s what repentance means: changing direction. The first verse is taken from Psalm 119:36–40. “Turn our hearts, O Lord, from selfish gain to your commandments . . .”
>> “Miraculous Salvation” by Tenielle Neda: This song by the Australian singer-songwriter Tenielle Neda praises God for the grace he lavishes on us and for his great love. Backing vocals are provided by Chris Cho.
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CAROL TEXT: “Revert, revert” by James Ryman, ca. 1492: Medievalist Eleanor Parker shares this Lenten carol text by the fifteenth-century Franciscan friar James Ryman, from Cambridge University Library MS Ee 1.12. The burden (repeated stanza) is “Revert, revert, revert, revert; / O sinful man, give me thine heart”—an echo of Isaiah 44:22, “Return to me, for I have redeemed you.” Written in Christ’s voice, it calls us to remember how he took on our flesh, was baptized, and was flogged and crucified for our sakes. I think the shield in stanza 3 refers to the cross; the Via Dolorosa was a battlefield on which Christ fought the devil, and paradoxically, the instrument of his execution was the means of victory.
One of thirteen wall-mounted display panels (with opening doors) designed by Kossmanndejong for the ambulatory of the Church of St. Lawrence in Rotterdam, portraying the city’s diverse religious festivals. This one portrays Holi, a Hindu festival in March celebrating the victory of light over darkness and involving the throwing of colored powder and water. I took this photo when visiting during Lent 2019.
The following text has been floating around the internet for some time. It’s often attributed to the American motivational writer and Methodist lay leader William Arthur Ward (1921–1994), but it is not in his compilation of maxims, Fountains of Faith (Droke House, 1970), and it doesn’t sound like his other writings.
Fast from judging others; feast on the Christ within them. Fast from emphasis on difference; feast on the unity of life. Fast from apparent darkness; feast on the reality of light. Fast from thoughts of illness; feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from words that pollute; feast on phrases that purify. Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude. Fast from anger; feast on patience. Fast from pessimism; feast on optimism.
Fast from complaining; feast on appreciation. Fast from worry; feast on trust in God’s care. Fast from unrelenting pressure; feast on unceasing prayer. Fast from facts that depress; feast on verities that uplift.
Fast from lethargy; feast on enthusiasm. Fast from thoughts that weaken; feast on promises that inspire. Fast from shadows of sorrow; feast on the sunlight of serenity. Fast from problems that overwhelm; feast on prayer that undergirds.
Fast from bitterness; feast on forgiveness. Fast from self-concern; feast on compassion for others. Fast from personal anxiety; feast on eternal truth. Fast from discouragements; feast on hope.
It’s a stirring exhortation, and it always gets special traction during Lent, a penitential season in which many Christians practice the spiritual discipline of fasting (in the traditional sense of limiting food intake) and/or abstinence (refraining from eating a certain type of food). The language of “fasting” can be confusing, because traditionally, you’re to fast from good things for a set period of time, and then enjoy them all the more fully during a period of feasting; but people sometimes use the word “fast” to describe the act of giving up something that’s bad for them or that’s unholy and that, truth be told, would best be given up year-round. This text uses the latter meaning: reducing or abstaining from attitudes and behaviors that drag you or others down. It also acknowledges, as did the church fathers, that when you cut something unwholesome out of your life, it’s often wise to replace it with something wholesome.
Lent is an annual prompt for self-examination, a spiritual wellness check in which we’re invited to identify the ways we’ve veered off course from the way of Christ (or where we’re stumbling) and to let Christ’s grace draw us back (or help us surmount the obstacles). It’s a chance to tend to our disordered manners of being and develop healthy new habits as we seek to live more faithfully as people of God.
In February 2010, Msgr. Kerry Beaulieu adapted the above text for Our Lady Queen of Angels Catholic Church in Newport Beach, California, which he pastored from 2004 to 2018:
Fast from a gloomy outlook on life; Feast on what is bright and cheerful.
Fast from always being right; Feast on seeing another’s point of view.
Fast from always pointing out differences; Feast on what unites us all.
Fast from words that pollute; Feast on those that purify.
Fast from complaining; Feast on appreciation.
Fast from self-pity; Feast on goodness in others and self.
Fast from self-concern; Feast on going out to others.
Fast from overdoing; Feast on time for prayer.
Fast from worry; Feast on God’s love.
It was also adapted into the song “Fast from, Feast On” in 2014 by Latifah Alattas and Dave Wilton and is performed by Alattas (under the artist name Page CXVI) on the album Lent to Maundy Thursday.
Fast from the swelling darkness Feast on the power of his light Fast from discontentment Feast on the joy that he brings
Refrain: Sustainer, protector, the well of life My helper, my comfort, the bread of life Is you Is you
Fast from the fear that haunts us Feast on the power of his might Fast from the trap of judgment Feast on all that’s been redeemed [Refrain]
Bridge: From the sorrow’s shadow to perfect light From the darkness of our doubt to a cleansing white From the sorrow’s shadow to perfect light From the blindness of our sin to healing sight [Refrain]
I recommend choosing one or more of these fast-feast pairings to partake of during Lent. Or you could write your own aspirational list, tailored to the areas where you struggle and want to see growth. Rephrase it as a vow: “I will fast from . . . I will feast on . . .” If you are comfortable sharing for the edification of other readers, feel free to do so in the Comments section below.
February is Black History Month, and while I endeavor to showcase Black art year-round, today’s post gives it dedicated attention.
VIDEO: “Kerry James Marshall, Now and Forever; Elizabeth Alexander, ‘American Song,’ Washington National Cathedral,” Smarthistory, January 22, 2024: Art historian Beth Harris and Kevin Eckstrom, former chief public affairs officer of Washington National Cathedral, explore the latest artwork to be permanently installed in the US capital’s “house of prayer for all people”: two Now and Forever stained glass windows by Kerry James Marshall, depicting a march for racial justice. Unveiled on September 23, 2023, these replace windows that memorialized Confederate generals Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, which had been donated by the United Daughters of the Confederacy and installed in 1953. (For my international readers: The Confederacy was a group of eleven Southern US states that seceded from the Union in 1860 and 1861 to preserve the institution of race-based chattel slavery on which their plantation economies relied; its government was dissolved in 1865 following the end of the Civil War, but its legacy continued.)
In 2015, when a white supremacist, who touted the Confederate flag as symbolic of his ideology, murdered nine Black churchgoers in Charleston, South Carolina, Washington National Cathedral’s dean at the time, the Very Rev. Gary Hall, called for the removal of the Lee-Jackson windows, which initiated a two-year discernment process involving ample community discussions. The cathedral finally took down the windows in 2017 following a white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, that claimed yet another life. The Very Rev. Randolph Hollerith, then the dean, said the windows “were a barrier to our mission, and an impediment to worship in this place.” Their removal and the installation of the Now and Forever windows in their place were funded by private foundations.
Kerry James Marshall (American, 1955–), Now and Forever, 2023. Fabricated by Andrew Goldkuhle. Stained glass windows, south outer aisle, bay 7, Washington National Cathedral, Washington, DC. Photo: Steven Zucker.
“American Song” by Elizabeth Alexander, commissioned by Washington National Cathedral and inscribed below Kerry James Marshall’s Now and Forever windows in bay 7. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
In addition to commissioning Marshall to design new windows, the cathedral commissioned the Pulitzer-nominated poet Elizabeth Alexander, who wrote and read “Praise Song for the Day” for President Barack Obama’s 2009 inauguration, to write a poem for this occasion. Titled “American Song,” it is inscribed on two limestone tablets beneath Marshall’s windows. The Windows Replacement Committee gave both artists this assignment:
We seek to tell a story of resilience, endurance, and courage that gives meaning and expression to the long and arduous plight of the African American, from slavery to freedom, from alienation to the hope of reconciliation, through physical and spiritual regeneration, as we move from the past to present day. The artist will capture both darkness and light, both the pain of yesterday and the promise of tomorrow, as well as the quiet and exemplary dignity of the African American struggle for justice and equality and the indelible and progressive impact it has had on American society. Each artist should respond in his or her own creative way to these ideals and aspirations, framing both the earthly and the divine, within the sacred space of the Washington National Cathedral.
When I was there last year, I asked the guide why the signs the figures hold don’t bear any of the more familiar slogans of our historical moment, such as “Black Lives Matter.” She said the artist deliberately did not want to tether the protest to a particular time period, in order to emphasize that the struggle for racial equality is ongoing. “Fairness,” “No Foul Play,” “No,” “Not”—these are expressions of demand and defiance that could apply to a number of justice-related issues and that encompass people of all races.
DANCE: “Still I Rise,” choreographed by Sean Cheesman: I really miss the TV show So You Think You Can Dance, which had aspiring dancers train across genres—contemporary, hip-hop, ballroom, jazz, etc.—with renowned choreographers, performing to compete for the title of “America’s favorite dancer.” It was entertaining, impressive (the athleticism!), and often moving. Here’s a contemporary routine choreographed by Sean Cheesman to spoken word artist Alexis Henry’s reading of a classic poem by Maya Angelou about Black strength and defiance. It’s danced by Koine “Koko” Iwasaki, Kiki Nyemchek, Taylor Sieve, and Mark Villaver. It’s from season 14, episode 12, which aired September 4, 2017.
(Another memorable Cheesman-choreographed dance from season 14 is an African jazz duet to Sheila Chandra’s “Speaking in Tongues II,” which unfortunately, I cannot find online.)
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ARTICLE: “Stephen Towns’ Quilted Works Emphasize Black Joy as Resistance in ‘Safer Waters’” by Kate Mothes: Through June 14, the Wichita Art Museum in Kansas is hosting the exhibition Safer Waters: Picturing Black Recreation at Midcentury, featuring eleven quilts and six paintings by the Baltimore-based artist Stephen Towns [previously]. Black history has always been an important aspect of Towns’s work, and in this series he was inspired by historic photographs (by Bruce Mozert) of Paradise Park, a segregated attraction in Silver Springs, Florida, that operated from 1949 to 1969 and that was popular among Black vacationers, providing a space for leisure and togetherness away from Jim Crow.
Stephen Towns (American, 1980–), All We Knew Was Joy, 2025. Natural and synthetic fabric, polyester and cotton thread, cubic zirconia, glass beads, and shell, 55 × 65 1/2 in.
Towns began his Paradise Park series in 2022 after reading Remembering Paradise Park by Cynthia Wilson-Graham and Lu Vickers, and this show is a continuation of it, for which he made seven new quilts (pictured in Mothes’s article). His art is displayed alongside some of Mozert’s photographs and related objects from Florida archives and collectors. See an exhibition walk-through on the artist’s Instagram page; see also photos from the opening on January 16–17.
Gospel music is one of the many gifts the Black church has given the world. Here are two songs from that distinctive choral tradition.
>> “Perfect Praise (How Excellent)” by Brenda Joyce Moore, performed by the Sunday Service Choir: Written in 1989 based on Psalm 8, this song gained recognition through its performance on the 1990 album This Is the Day by Walt Whitman and the Soul Children of Chicago, featuring Lecresia Campbell. It has since become a gospel choir standard, though often with the lead vocals eliminated (and that part taken by the full choir). It’s performed in this video by Sunday Service at the Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord in Paris on March 1, 2020.
>> “He’s a Wonder” by Jamel Garner, performed by the Chicago Mass Choir, feat. Cornelius Owens: This song about Jesus’s miracles is from the Chicago Mass Choir’s 2024 album Greater Is Coming.
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PODCAST EPISODES:
>> “Artist Archetypes with Jakari Sherman,”Be. Make. Do., January 21, 2025: I really enjoyed this conversation with Jakari Sherman on the soul|makers podcast hosted by Rev. Lisa Cole Smith, where he describes his journey as an artist and a believer. Sherman is a choreographer within the tradition of stepping, a percussive dance practice in which dancers use primarily their hands and feet to create music. Stepping comes from the African American Greek letter organizations and has roots, Sherman explains, in the antebellum South, where enslaved people had their drums taken away and thus had to find ways to express the rhythms they felt using just the floor and their own bodies. (Tap evolved largely for the same reason.)
Sherman is the creative director of [Jk]creativ, a multidisciplinary company developing purpose-driven and truth-seeking cultural works. From 2007 to 2014 he served as the artistic director of Step Afrika! and has continued to develop and direct works for them, such as Drumfolk and The Migration (which I saw in 2024 and was excellent). To establish a foundation for his scholarly research on the history of stepping, he completed a master of arts program in ethnochoreology at the Irish World Academy of Music and Dance in 2015. Below is a trailer for one of Sherman’s latest works, Our Road Home, an interactive rhythmic production that meditates “on what is means to find freedom—and to live it fully in body, soul, and spirit”; it premiered last June as part of a year-long collaboration with the Houston Freedmen’s Town Conservancy.
>> “Cole Arthur Riley – Black Liturgies,”Nomad, February 9, 2024: Tim Nash interviews Cole Arthur Riley, the best-selling author of Black Liturgies: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations for Staying Human(which grew out of her popular Instagram account @blackliturgies) and This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation, and the Stories That Make Us. She is a wise, feeling, richly spiritual and embodied writer and speaker whose work I’ve appreciated. In this conversation she discusses her hang-ups with the Book of Common Prayer; battling chronic illness; balancing the active and contemplative lives; the revival of lament; self-sacrifice versus self-care; her experience of white people engaging with her work (“I like to think that there’s something mysterious that’s healed in us when we encounter each other’s interior worlds; when we hear words written by a Black woman toward God, that that could somehow move someone in some way, and move us closer to each other”); and what hope means to her and where she sees signs of it.
Even though I, as a white person, am not the intended audience for the book Black Liturgies, in reading it, I found it meaningful to listen to the cries of Riley’s heart. While many of the prayers are particular to the experience of being Black, still many others are general enough that they could be prayed by anyone. Part 1, organized thematically, consists of chapters such as “Dignity,” “Wonder,” “Doubt,” “Lament,” “Rage,” and “Rest,” whereas part 2 contains prayers for dawn, day, and dusk as well as for the liturgical year, secular holidays, and life occasions. I like the names for God with which she opens each prayer—e.g., “God of the shadows,” “God who expands,” “Divine Labyrinth,” “God aware,” “God of locked doors,” “God who reclaims,” “God our home,” “God of delight,” “God of the art that will never be seen,” “God who whispers”; it has prompted me to consider the names and descriptions I use for God and how they influence how I pray.
To give you a flavor of Black Liturgies, here are two prayers from the book (and note that prayers are only one component; also included are letters, quotes, questions for contemplation, confessions and assurances of pardon, and benedictions):
For Marveling at Your Own Face
God of the flesh, When we consider what is worthy of our wonder, it is easy to forget our own faces, our bodies. The world is relentless in indoctrinating us into self-hatred—into anti-Blackness, into transphobia, into misogyny in all forms. We are slowly and steadily brainwashed to despise our own faces from the time we’re tall enough to stare up at ourselves in the mirror. How can we resist this? Let the tyranny of the mirror be no more. May it instead become a portal—to delight, to pleasure, and to love. These noses, these hips, the way our hair rises and falls. The memories etched into our hands and faces. Remind us of the miracle of flesh that grows back, of blood that pulses warm beneath the skin that holds us. Of bodies, these holy beautiful bodies, that are working a thousand unseen miracles just so that we can read these lines, breathe this air, cry or not cry. As we peer into the face before us, remind us that we are something to behold. We believe; forgive our unbelief. Ase.
For Those Who Doomscroll
Still God, We confess that we are addicted to pessimism. Although we rarely name it as such, so much of our attention is devoted to negativity. Show us how we use technology to soothe and stir the aches in us. Keep us from turning control over to our anxiety, that it would no longer feed itself with news of tragedy and impending disaster. It is easy to become lost, buried in the quicksand of digital catastrophe. Draw our attention upward. Guide us to look away habitually; and not just away, but up at the sky, the grass, the table. Guide us inward as well. Acquaint us with goodness again. In the world, and in ourselves. Let us follow the children, freed from the grip of seriousness. Renew our playfulness. Lead us into wise rhythms of engagement, retreating to rest and breathe. Remind us that there is much the world needs, including our attention to atrocity—but if we watch the world burn for long enough, the fire will become our only reality. Amen.
CONFERENCE: The Breath and the Clay: Exploring the Intersections of Art, Faith, and Culture, Winston-Salem, North Carolina, March 20–22, 2026: “Before the first word is spoken, before the brush touches the canvas or the note strikes the air, there is silence. Creation begins with a clearing, making space for new worlds to exist. An empty chair waits in welcome, an empty forest beckons us to come aside. Even absence itself becomes an opening for presence.
“At The Breath & The Clay 2026, we are exploring what it means to make space—for rest, for renewal, for art, for one another, and for the Presence that meets us in the emptiness. Together, we will practice making room: for the unfinished, and the unfurnished, for the overlooked, for voices not our own. In this space, we will make art—our response to the silence that precedes creation, our offering to the mystery and miracle that ever calls us onward.”
This annual gathering features presenters from across the disciplines of poetry, music, visual art, theater, film, dance, creativity coaching, and real estate development. General admission is $299.
>> “How Long (A Christian Lament)” by IAMSON: This week the Richmond, Virginia–based singer-songwriter IAMSON (the artist name of Orlando Palmer) wrote his pain into a song and shared it on social media. “I challenge all Christian artists to write about what’s really going on,” he says, likely referring to the two murders committed this month by US federal agents from Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Customs and Border Protection (CBP) and, more broadly, the agencies’ hypermilitarized tactics, indiscriminate raids, illegal detainments, and terrorizing of communities in deference to President Trump’s mass deportation initiative.
>> “Psalm 10” by Poor Bishop Hooper: Poor Bishop Hooper (Leah and Jesse Roberts) have set all 150 psalms of the Bible to music. Psalm 10 is one I had not ever heard a musical interpretation of. Belonging to the genre of lament, it opens:
Why, O LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? In arrogance the wicked persecute the poor— let them be caught in the schemes they have devised.
>> “Micah 6:8” by Monroe Crossing:Monroe Crossing [previously] is a Minnesota bluegrass band whose members are Lisa Fuglie (fiddle), David Robinson (banjo), Derek Johnson (guitar), Matt Thompson (mandolin), and Mark Anderson (bass). This is a song Fuglie and Anderson wrote in 2011 inspired by Micah 6:8, one of this coming Sunday’s lectionary readings: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” Many Christians hold on to this as a “life verse,” a summation of God’s values that serves as a guiding principle.
FREE DIGITAL POETRY BOOKLET: Inkwell Poetry for the New Year (2026): Last week Inkwell (formerly Ekstasis), a publication of Christianity Today, released a collection of twenty poems curated by guest editor J. C. Scharl, and it’s excellent! “A storytelling community seeking transcendence,” Inkwell is in a period of refining their identity, and this offering is a sort of stopgap until they reintroduce poetry features into their editorial flow. (Right now they’re focusing on creative nonfiction.)
SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: January 2026 by Art & Theology: Almost every month I compile thirty faith-inspired songs on Spotify—roughly two hours of listening—to showcase just a sampling of the well-crafted, spiritually nourishing music that is out there. Though this is several days late, here are some songs to kick off the new calendar year.
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NEW ALBUM + OTHER RESOURCES: Matthew: Gospel Collection by The Soil and The Seed Project: Directed by Seth Thomas Crissman, an educator, musician, and pastor in the Mennonite Church, The Soil and The Seed Project is “a community-supported ministry of the church working for spiritual renewal—in individuals, families, and communities—through beautiful, creative resources that help us together turn towards Jesus in the ordinary moments of life.” I always look forward to their releases, the latest of which is a thirty-song “folk opera,” as they call it, based on the Gospel of Matthew, accompanied by seven commissioned linocut prints by Bethany Tobin (free for church use), seven poems by Michael Stalcup, and twenty-five “little liturgies.”
The beautiful opening track, cowritten and performed by Spectator Bird (“Won’t you tell me a story that’s true . . .”), is followed by a range of narrative-based songs (on the Dreams of Joseph, the Temptation in the Wilderness, the Calming of the Storm, the Transfiguration, the Entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, the Resurrection, etc.); settings of the Beatitudes, the Lord’s Prayer, and other teachings from the Sermon on the Mount, as well as cherished sayings about the greatest commandment and Jesus’s easy yoke; songs on parables such as the foolish builder, the sower, the lost sheep; and more. There are far fewer songs about Christ’s passion than I would have expected, but that may be because there’s a relative dearth in music that engages the other parts of the Gospel, or because they anticipate overlap with forthcoming Gospel Collection albums on Mark, Luke, and John. I love what they present here.
Bethany Tobin, Mary Magdalene and Mary sit opposite the tomb, 2025. Used courtesy of The Soil and The Seed Project.
>> RELEASE CONCERT: On Sunday, January 18, 2026, at 3 p.m. at First Presbyterian Church in Harrisonburg, Virginia, The Soil and The Seed Project are going to perform the entire album from start to finish, with a full band and almost all the contributing artists. Admission is free, but they ask that you consider donating some toiletry items for the local food pantry; there will be a collection box on-site. Find more info at https://www.thesoilandtheseedproject.org/matthew#release-concert.
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END-OF-YEAR READING STATS: My Year in Books 2025 (Goodreads): I read 138 books last year, mostly poetry. Exactly half were written by women—I’ve been more intentional about seeking out female authors, ever since someone challenged me on that. I hadn’t realized how disproportionately I was reading male authors, especially for theology. Nothing wrong with men!—but in the interest of closing the gender gap in my personal reading habits so that I can benefit from a wider swath of voices and support women writers, I commit to reading at least as many women as men each year.
(The book covers in this graphic are randomly generated by Goodreads from my list of read books.)
I’ve mentioned several of my favorite recent reads on the blog already (e,g., A Whole Life in Twelve Movies, An Axe for the Frozen Sea, Picturing the Apocalypse), but let me mention a few more. I wish I had time to write thoughtful reviews. I’m obliged to mention that if you make a purchase from any of the following links, I earn a small commission from Amazon.
Motherhood: A Confession by Natalie Carnes: This one’s hard to describe, but here’s the publisher’s attempt: “What if Augustine’s Confessions had been written not by a man, but by a mother? How might her tales of desire, temptation, and transformation differ from his? In this memoir, Natalie Carnes describes giving birth to a daughter and beginning a story of conversion strikingly unlike Augustine’s―even as his journey becomes a surprising companion to her own.” Despite my not being a mother, this book, which is also about embodiedness, and by a theologian I’ve met at conferences on multiple occasions, really captivated me. Thank you to a reader who purchased it for me from my wish list!
I really love the newish Fullness of Time series from InterVarsity Press, edited by Esau McCaulley, which celebrates the riches of the church year in seven short little volumes. It starts withAdvent: The Season of Hopeby Tish Harrison Warren and Christmas: The Season of Life and Light by Emily Hunter McGowan. As someone who didn’t grow up observing the liturgical calendar but who now does and gets asked about it by Christians for whom it’s unfamiliar, I find these explainers to be a helpful resource as well as personally enriching, and I look forward to reading more.
Bruegel: The Complete Works: This monster of a book from the art publisher Taschen, which comes in a carrier case, was a present from my husband. It’s beautifully produced, with full-color reproductions, foldouts, essays, and cataloging info. Pieter Bruegel (the Elder), a sixteenth-century Flemish artist, is known for his detailed, densely populated (sometimes a hundred-plus figures!) paintings of biblical narratives and peasant scenes, many of which were copied by his son, Pieter Bruegel the Younger. I give the text four stars but an overall five stars merely for the quality of the images (especially the inclusion of high-resolution details, which are generally not accessible online) and the value of having an authoritative catalog of all the artist’s authenticated works.
Goodreads is a social cataloging website for book lovers. I use it mainly to keep track of the books I’ve read and the ones I want to read. You can also tag books, a feature I use to group by topic or genre, though I’m not entirely consistent with the labeling. I’m a volunteer Goodreads Librarian, meaning I can edit book details and create new book records. Follow me on Goodreads.
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Victoria’s Book Wish List: If you would like to support Art & Theology, buying me a book from my Amazon wish list is one tangible way to do that. (Only those with a US Amazon account can do this, I believe.) The books I read influence the content I write and the artists I feature. I keep this link up-to-date year-round, and it lives permanently on this site’s Donate page (where there’s also a link to give financially through PayPal). I only include books that relate to the objectives of this blog. Thank you to those who have gifted me with surprise shipments throughout this past year! My husband says my eyes light up the brightest when I’m receiving a new book. I think it’s because I delight so much in growing my mind and spirit through wisdom and beauty.
Sometimes people ask me how I decide which books to buy versus which to get from the library. On his Astonishing Things Substack, Wes Vander Lugt shares the criteria he uses—and mine are largely the same. He writes:
Is it a book from a favorite writer that I will want to digest slowly, re-read, and cherish having in my home? Buy it.
Is it a book that piques my interest but the quality of writing and value of the content is relatively unknown? Get it from the library.
Is it a novel from a trusted author that I may not be able to finish in a month and/or will most likely want to re-read or at least revisit for inspiration and reflection? Buy it.
Is it a novel that I can reasonably finish in a month without feeling rushed? Get it from the library, along with the audiobook format if available.
Is it a book by a friend? Buy it!
Is it a book by a writer who feels like a friend, and none of the local libraries have a copy after a reasonable time following the release? Buy it.
Is it a book I would really love to own but my buy-it list is too long? Get it from the library first, and if it strikes a deep chord and the book budget is not maxed out, buy it.
I do get many books from the Linthicum Public Library right down the road from my house here in Maryland, which I usually visit at least once a week. I’m grateful for the service they provide, and for their partnership with Marina Interlibrary Loan, through which I can request books from other libraries in the state. I also regularly borrow movies from the library. However, books that I will take a long time to read, will reference again and again, or would want to lend to a friend—or that simply are not available through the library system in my area but that I desperately want to read and are reasonably priced—those are the kinds I’m likely to add to my wish list or purchase myself.
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EXHIBITION: The Stars We Do Not See: Australian Indigenous Art, November 15, 2025–March 1, 2026, National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC: I saw this show last month, curated by Myles Russell-Cook from the collection of the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, and it was fantastic. I recommend the free guided tour, especially if Aboriginal art is new to you. “Don’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime exhibition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander art—the largest ever shown in North America. Australian Indigenous art is a visual thread connecting more than 250 nations across 65,000 years. Explore its breadth and brilliance through nearly 200 works from the late 1800s to today. You’ll find ochre paintings made on bark, maps of the Central and Western deserts (so-called ‘dot paintings’), groundbreaking works in neon, video, and photography, and more. And you’ll meet iconic artists who maintain and reinvigorate Ancestral traditions—revealing the rich, living history of creativity behind the world’s longest continuous culture.”
Here are some of the photos I took:
Nyapanyapa Yunupiŋu (Gumatj, ca. 1945–2021), Gäna (Self), Yirrkala, Northern Territory, 2009–18. Earth pigments on eucalyptus. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Nyapanyapa Yunupiŋu, Gäna (Self) (detail)
Gulumbu Yunupiŋu (Gumatj, 1945–2012), Garak (The Universe), Yirrkala, Northern Territory, 2008. Earth pigments on eucalyptus. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Gulumbu Yunupiŋu, Garak (The Universe) (detail)
Paintings by (top, left to right) Kunmanara (Patju) Presley, Boxer Milner Tjampitjin, Walangkura Napanangka, Tjayanka Woods, Donkeyman Lee Tjupurrula, Ronnie Tjampitjinpa, (bottom, left to right) Turkey Tolson Tjupurrula, Nora Wompi, Wingu Tingima (×2), Wakartu Cory Surprise, Eubena Nampitjin
Larrakitj (memorial poles) are hollowed eucalyptus logs, carved and painted, made by the Yolŋu people of Arnhem Land, Australia, traditionally to hold ancestral bones, though some, like these, are made exclusively for the contemporary art market and contain no human remains. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Gawirriṉ Gumana (Dhalwangu, ca. 1935–2016), Guyamirrilil (detail), Gäṉgaṉ, Northern Territory, 2003. Earth pigments on eucalyptus. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Malaluba Gumana (Dhalwangu, 1953–2020), Dhatam (Waterlilies) (detail), Gäṉgaṉ, Northern Territory, 2017. Earth pigments on eucalyptus. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Emily Kam Kngwarray (Anmatyerre, ca. 1910–1996), Anwerlarr Anganenty (Big Yam Dreaming), Delmore Downs, Northern Territory, 1995. Synthetic polymer paint on canvas. National Gallery of Victoria, Australia. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Claudia Moodoonuthi (Kaiadilt, 1995–), 360 Flip on Country, Meanjin/Brisbane, Queensland, 2014. Synthetic polymer paint on skateboards. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Yvonne Koolmatri (Ngarrindjeri, 1944–), Magic Weaver, Berri, South Australia, 2005. Sedge, wood. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Tony Albert (Girramay / Yidinji / Kuku Yalanji, 1981–), History Repeats, Meanjin/Brisbane, Queensland, 2022. Found kitsch objects and timber. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
The title of the exhibition comes from the late artist Gulumbu Yunupiŋu, known affectionately as “Star Lady.” She developed “a signature style characterized by dense networks of crosses unified by fields of dots. Each cross represents a star and all that is visible within the known universe, while the dots in between symbolize everything that remains unknown.” See images 3 and 4 in the slideshow above.
After its run at the National Gallery in Washington, The Stars We Do Not See will be traveling to the Denver Art Museum in Colorado, the Portland Art Museum in Oregon, and the Peabody Essex Museum in Massachusetts.
LOOK: Adoration of the Magi by Silvestro dei Gherarducci
Silvestro dei Gherarducci (Italian, 1339–1399), Adoration of the Magi in an Initial E, cutting from a gradual, Florence, 1392–99. Illumination on parchment, 59 × 40 cm. Morgan Library and Museum, New York, MS M.653.5. All photos by Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
(See commentary below.)
LISTEN: “Ecce advenit dominator Dominus” (Behold, the Sovereign Lord Is Come), introit for the Epiphany of the Lord, ca. 7th century | Performed by Floriani (men’s vocal ensemble), 2024
Ecce advenit dominator Dominus: et regnum in manu eius et potestas et imperium.
Deus, judicium tuum regi da, et justitiam tuum filio regis.
Gloria patri, et filio, et spiritui sancto, sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, in saecula saeculorum. Amen.
Behold, the Sovereign Lord is come, and in his hand the kingdom, and power, and dominion.
Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to a king’s son.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
In the Roman Catholic Church, the introit (sung while the priest approaches the altar for the Eucharist) for the Mass of the Epiphany is derived from three Old Testament texts: Malachi 3:1, 1 Chronicles 29:12, and Psalm 72:1. It communicates the royalty of Christ.
The church has sung this cento since as far back as the seventh century. The musical notation has been preserved in graduals (books that collect all the musical items of the Mass).
Two years ago at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York, I saw an Ecce advenit leaf from a now-dispersed medieval gradual that caught my attention with its glimmering gold. It’s one of twenty-three cuttings that the museum owns from a manuscript made at the Camaldolese monastery of Santa Maria degli Angeli in Florence, Italy, in the late fourteenth century, for the monastery of San Michele a Murano in Venice. The illuminations are by the then-prior (head) of Santa Maria, Silvestro dei Gherarducci.
The primary image on the page is an Adoration of the Magi inside a letter E (for Ecce). When a scene or figures appear inside a large decorative letter at the start of a text section, it’s called a historiated initial.
In the scene, the Holy Family stands at the mouth of a cave—Jesus is seated on Mary’s lap, while Joseph stands beside them holding a vessel that the elder magus handed him, a gift for the Christ child. It was typical for artists to depict the three magi as different ages: young (beardless), middle-aged, and elderly (gray-haired). The oldest of the group kneels on the ground, lays down his crown, and kisses Christ’s feet while the other two await their turn. In the background, a servant restrains two bridled camels.
Across the top and left margins of the page is a colorful vine scroll, and in the lower margin there’s a bas-de-page depicting the magi following the star. I love their fantastic hats! The elder one, astride a horse, points the way forward (the guiding star shines from the left of the page near some blue foliage); the other two follow his direction on camels. In front of the caravan are two servants, one walking on foot with a bag slung over his shoulder, and the other riding a camel beside a second camel carrying a chest that contains the treasures the magi will bestow on the newborn king they’re journeying to pay homage to.
I like to imagine the community of Camaldolese monks in late medieval Venice singing from this choirbook on Epiphany, the lovingly wrought images of Christ-pursuing, Christ-worshipping magi enlivening their engagement with the gospel story and supplementing their own worship.
While monastic choirs have retained the monophonic style of music (that is, a single melody line sung in unison or traded off) that the church used for most of the Middle Ages—what we call Gregorian chant—over time, the church at large developed a taste for more elaborate, polyphonic music (that is, music with two or more simultaneous but relatively independent melodic lines), which came into full flower during the Renaissance and was sung in cathedrals.
To illustrate the difference between medieval monophony and Renaissance polyphony, here’s an example of the latter: the English composer William Byrd’s setting, from 1607, of the Ecce advenit. During his lifetime it was sung in Epiphany services in the Church of England as well as in the manor houses of recusant Catholic families (who were forced by law at the time to worship clandestinely).
Epiphany is no isolated and solitary act. It is a process: it is eternally typical of the Divine character. We will not merely look back over the long centuries at the manifestation that first flashed forth before the eyes of the Three Wise Men. Here and now, God is revealing Himself afresh before our very eyes. . . . For us too, clogged and choked by the dismal sand, there is a star that guides, a God who beckons. If only we would see!
Today’s art and music selections are not a cultural match—the painting comes from the United States, bears Nigerian, Chinese, and Persian influences, and features a famous Dutch modernist in the corner, while the piano composition, written by a Hungarian based on a Romanian folk tune, comes from Central and Eastern Europe. But I find them to be a great match tonally—they’re both vibrant and spirited—not to mention the subject matter they share.
Tomorrow will be the final post in the daily Christmas series for this liturgical year.
LOOK: The Magi and Mondrian by Tanja Butler
Tanja Butler (American, 1955–), The Magi and Mondrian. Oil and acrylic on Masonite, cradled with 2-inch unstained birch plywood, overall 10 × 12 in.
Artist’s statement by Tanja Butler [previously], via ArtWay: “The magi represent the cultures of the world, coming from the four corners of the earth to bring homage to the newborn King. The poses are drawn from royal Nigerian sculpture, Chinese paintings, and Persian manuscripts. The magi are forerunners of generations to come; all nations will bring the gifts of their unique cultures. In the bottom left corner Piet Mondrian offers his painting of chrysanthemums, an image reflecting natural order and creative stasis, the single-minded goal for which he sacrificed all nonessentials – a reminder of the determined search of the magi.”
LISTEN: “Trei crai de la Răsărit” (Three Kings from the East), series 1, no. 10 from Romanian Christmas Carols (Sz. 57, BB 67) by Béla Bartók, 1915 | Performed by György Sándor, 1962
“Trei crai de la Răsărit” (Three Kings from the East) is from a suite of twenty very short piano compositions in two series by the Hungarian composer Béla Bartók, which he based on Romanian colinde he had collected throughout the Transylvanian region. This one comes from the village of Rogoz in Bihor County.
Colinde (sing. colindă) are Romanian folk songs sung at Christmastime, typically by small groups of young men who after some rehearsal walk from house to house on Christmas Eve, caroling at each door. As Bartók himself noted, not all the colinde texts relate to Christmas; many regale folktales, ancient battles yarns, and pagan myths about nature and spirits. Christianity in Romania has absorbed and transformed some elements of the region’s pre-Christian past, integrating winter solstice traditions into a repertoire of Christmas song that also, of course, includes stories of Jesus’s birth.
“Trei crai de la Răsărit,” about the visit of the three wise men, is one of the explicitly Christian colinde. As the piano prances, I can picture the travelers riding with excitement toward Bethlehem.
Though I’ve found a few slow, somber Romanian songs with this same title, I’ve been unable to find the particular tune Bartók adapted for this più allegro (more lively, faster) movement that concludes the first series of his Romanian Christmas Carols. I’m curious to hear a vocal version and to know the lyrics—which Bartók had suggested be printed above the right hand in the score, an idea his publisher decided against.
To listen to the full suite as performed by Dezső Ránki and to follow along with the sheet music, see this video (“Trei crai de la Răsărit” occurs at 4:39–4:54):
ARTICLE: “Witnessing the Divine: The Magi in Art and Literature” by Robin Jensen, Bible Review: In this 2001 article, art historian Robin Jensen traces the development of the tradition of the magi through early Christian art (catacomb frescoes, sarcophagi and funerary plaques, church mosaics) and literature.
The Adoration of the Magi, 3rd century. Fresco, Capella Graeca, Catacomb of Priscilla, Rome. Photo: Vincenzo Pirozzi.
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SONGS:
>> Slaviiq (“Starring”) carols in St. Paul, Alaska: In the mid-eighteenth century, Russian Orthodoxy was the first Christian denomination to take root in Alaska; Siberian trappers arrived as part of the “fur rush,” and many ended up marrying local Native women, bringing their religion into their new and growing families. Now Orthodoxy is widely practiced in Unangan (Aleut), Alutiiq (Kodiak), Yup’ik, and Tlingit communities.
Adapted from a custom originating in the Carpathian Mountains, Slaviiq (also spelled Slaviq, Slaaviq Selaviq, or Slavii), meaning “Starring,” is a multiday Native Alaskan Orthodox Christmas celebration beginning on the Feast of the Nativity of Christ on January 7. It involves processions into homes with a large decorated pinwheel star, caroling in English, Slavonic, and Native languages, traditional foods, prayers, and blessings.
The following video is a five-minute clip from a Slaviiq celebration in 2022 on Saint Paul Island, one of the homes of the Unangan people. Community members Aquilina Lestenkof and George Pletnikoff Jr. sing a few songs while a youth spins the Christmas star.
>> “Bright Star,” arranged for string quartet by Ellie Consta and performed by Her Ensemble: Published in 1968, the Christmas song “Bright Star” was a collaboration between poet Janice Lovoos and composer Margaret Bonds [previously]. Her Ensemble, a UK-based women’s orchestra founded by violinist Ellie Consta to perform and promote music by female composers, encountered the song in 2021 through Lara Downes’s solo piano arrangement and decided to arrange it for strings. “We wanted to keep it as close to the original as possible because it’s just so beautiful as it is,” they write, “but we did add a couple of very subtle harmonics in the background to add a little extra Christmas charm!”
It’s an instrumental performance, but here are Lovoos’s lyrics:
Bright star, glist’ning star, shining on that holy night, guiding shepherds in their flight to Bethlehem;
Bright star, guiding star, leading to a blessed abode, three wise men on camels rode to Bethlehem;
Bright star, glimm’ring star, floating in your cobalt sea, won’t you light the way for me as you did them in Bethlehem;
Sweet star, holy star, won’t you shine as bright today, bright as when the Christ child lay in his manger in the hay in Bethlehem, in Bethlehem.
>> “Songs of Thankfulness and Praise,” performed by Josh Bales: The Episcopal priest and singer-songwriter Josh Bales introduces an Epiphany hymn from 1862 by Christopher Wordsworth, nephew of the Romantic poet William Wordsworth. Observed annually on January 6, Epiphany (meaning “manifestation”) celebrates three events in which Jesus’s identity was made manifest: the visit of the magi, Jesus’s baptism in the Jordan, and Jesus’s first miracle at the wedding at Cana. The Western Church focuses on the magi, the Eastern Church on the baptism. Read the lyrics at Hymnary.org. The tune, SALZBURG, was composed by Jakob Hintze in 1678.
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VIDEO:“Nicholas of Verdun, Shrine of the Three Kings, Cologne Cathedral,” Smarthistory: I visited Cologne for the first time in fall 2025. I loved it. My only disappointment was that access to its cathedral’s most beautiful art object, the Shrine of the Three Kings, was obstructed, with the entire sanctuary and choir areas roped off, even though there was no Mass in session. I, a Protestant, was indifferent to the relics inside—the purported skulls of the magi—that have made Cologne an important pilgrimage destination since the Middle Ages. I merely wanted to see this extraordinary twelfth-century metalwork I had read about in art history books, the high point of Mosan art, from the renowned workshop of Nicholas of Verdun. If time had allowed, I could have paid for a tour that would have brought me a little closer but still at a distance. Instead, I had to resort to awkward viewing angles through metal bars.
However, a month after I returned home, Smarthistory uploaded a video that gives a closer look at the shrine, with lovely detail photographs by director Steven Zucker.
Nicholas of Verdun and workshop, Shrine of the Three Kings (front view), ca. 1181–1220. Oak, gold, silver gilt, copper, enamel, jewels, 155 × 112 × 224 cm. Cologne Cathedral, Germany. Photo: Steven Zucker.
The short end that faces out toward worshippers portrays, in pure gold, the Adoration of the Kings, with the three traditional sovereigns accompanied by a fourth, the Holy Roman emperor Otto IV. (He had paid for the shrine’s production—following the magi’s example, he donated a materially precious gift in homage to Christ.) To the right of this scene is the Baptism of Christ.
The figures on the sides represent prophets, apostles, and evangelists.
LOOK: Relief sculpture of the magi, Amiens Cathedral
Quatrefoil relief sculpture from the south portal of Amiens Cathedral, France, 13th century. Photo: Fr. Lawrence Lew, OP.
In this sculpture, the Old Testament prophet Balaam pronounces his oracle that “a star shall come out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel” (Num. 24:17). The anonymous artist shows the magi, who studied celestial events, noticing the prophesied star centuries later and preparing to follow it.
To view a wider shot that includes all the adjacent bas-reliefs, see here.
LISTEN: “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” | Words by Jane Taylor, 1806 | Anonymous French pastoral tune, 1761 | Arranged and performed by God’s Children, 2023
Twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder what you are Up above the world so high Like a diamond in the sky Twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder what you are
Art & Theology 