We have also a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts.
LOOK: Shather Alfairooz (Gold Specks of Turquoise) by Nabeela Al Khayer
Nabeela Al Khayer, Shather Alfairooz (Gold Specks of Turquoise), 2017. Mixed media on wood, 80 × 80 cm.
The Bahraini artist Nabeela Al Khayer likes to play with color, fabric, and photographs in her work, often writing poetic notes in Arabic in the borders. She uses resin, oil, acrylic, and watercolors to create texture and movement.
I learned about Al Khayer through CARAVAN [previously], an international nonprofit dedicated to building bridges through the arts, fostering peace, harmony, and wholeness in the world. It was founded in 2009 by Paul G. Chandler, an Anglican clergyman and US citizen. Al Khayer was one of thirty-one contemporary women artists from the Middle East featured in CARAVAN’s exhibition I AM, which opened at the National Gallery of Fine Arts in Amman, Jordan, in 2017. In her statement, she writes that Shather Alfairooz (Gold Specks of Turquoise) “depicts the intangible human emotions that carry in their midst layers of pain, suffering, and love.”
The mixed-media work shows a silhouetted woman in profile, gazing straight ahead at a column of light. She, too, appears to be softly lit from within. Her cupped hand, raised toward her chest, may be a spiritual gesture—perhaps she’s inviting God in, or acknowledging a warm interior sensation.
LISTEN: “Day Star” by the Brothers of Abriem Harp, on Again I Glorify: Demos and Outtakes on the Road to Last Days (2018)
O Day Star, in my heart arise Cloak my thoughts with thy love O Day Star, in my heart arise Greet me as the mourning dove
Sing to me a song of mercy Sing to me a song of love O Day Star, in my heart arise Wake me with the morning light
O Son of mercy, Son of love Warmth of grace felt from above Awake my spirit with a song Let my heart sing at the dawn
Sing, I sing to call you holy Sing, I sing to praise your name O Jesus, let this be my song Let my heart to you belong
POEM SERIES: “Twelve Days of Advent” by Kate Bluett: This year on her blog, writer Kate Bluett [previously] is publishing a series of original metrical verses based loosely on the cumulative song “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” She calls it the Twelve Days of Advent and through it explores the theology of Christ’s coming. I love this creative, sacred spin on the popular seasonal ditty! Here’s where the series currently stands (my favorite poems are in boldface):
“A Partridge in a Pear Tree”: Bluett imagines, in the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, a bird singing (representing, as I take it, God’s word), but Adam and Eve heed not his song, and, taking the tree’s forbidden fruit, find themselves exiled. The bird weeps for the alienation of his two friends, and wings his way east of Eden, into the home of a young maiden, a daughter of Eve, who receives him, shelters him, an act that leads to restoration. Bluett uses some of the language of late medieval English folksong, such as “with a low, low, my love, my love” and “welaway.”
“Four Calling Birds”: This poem is brilliant. In it the four matriarchs in Jesus’s genealogy speak to Mary, tenderly calling her “Child” and rejoicing in her “bringing forth our life’s tomorrow.” Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba—they’ve long awaited redemption, and now they’re at its threshold. Mary’s yes to God’s call “set[s] [their] dry bones stirring, thrumming / with a hope [they’d] hardly dared.” They inform her that her vocation will involve great suffering (as we know, she’ll experience the brutal death of her son)—but her willingness to give up her son to the cross, to endure that rupture, will mean new life for the world.
“Six Geese a-Laying”: Picking up the Isaianic language of the wilderness being made glad, the poetic speaker sings an eschatological vision of flocks coming home to “the orchard of the rood” (rood = cross) to lay and hatch eggs in nests once empty, now brimming with life.
SUBSTACK SERIES: “Art + Advent 2025” by Elissa Yukiko Weichbrodt: The art historian Elissa Yukiko Weichbrodt [previously], author of Redeeming Vision and the Loving Look Substack, is one of my favorite writers. This Advent she is writing a weekly series of art reflections centered on the themes of hope, peace, joy, and love.
>> “Week 1 // Hope: Abraham’s Oak and Sarah’s Laughter”: Looking at Henry Ossawa Tanner’s painting Abraham’s Oak, Weichbrodt writes about shadowy promise. She also considers, with reference to an early Byzantine mosaic of the Hospitality of Abraham, how to hope again after being wounded, as Sarah did, is a vulnerable thing. “As Advent begins, I find myself peering into a Tanner-like mist, seeing the dim outline of longed-for goodness taking shape in the distance. Sometimes I’m full of hope, but I’m also, like Sarah, sometimes full of armored laughter.”
Henry Ossawa Tanner (American, 1859–1937), Abraham’s Oak, 1905. Oil on canvas, 21 3/8 × 28 5/8 in. (54.4 × 72.8 cm). Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, DC.
>> “Week 2 // Peace: A Stitch Pulling Tight”: “How do we do repair work in a fraying world with our own, fraying selves? What thread can stitch together all these gaping wounds?” Weichbrodt asks. She looks at Mary Weatherford’s monumental painting Gloria (new to me!), finding in the hot coral neon light blazing across the canvas resonance with Renaissance paintings of the Annunciation, which portray the Light of the World as the stitch that mends the tear between God and humanity.
Mary Weatherford (American, 1963–), Gloria, 2018. Flashe paint and neon on linen, 117 × 234 in. (297.2 × 594.4 cm). High Museum of Art, Atlanta.
>> “Week 3 // Joy: Far as the Curse Is Found”: In this post, Weichbrodt explores nine Visitation paintings and one extraordinary embroidery. “Every time I see [a Visitation artwork],” Weichbrodt writes, “I encounter joy. It’s not that Mary and Elizabeth are always smiling. Often, their expressions are quite serious. But joy—deep, sustained, sustaining joy—circulates between them like an electrical current.” Justice, threshold, and fecundity are among the supplementary themes touched on.
The Visitation, England, first half of 17th century. Embroidery, 44.1 × 57 cm (framed). Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.
Weichbrodt’s final Advent 2025 post, on love, will be published this Saturday. Weichbrodt’s final Advent 2025 post, on love, will be published this Saturday. (Update, 12/20/25: Week 4’s post, “Love In Between,” is now published. It centers on Vincent van Gogh’s painting Almond Blossoms, a gift for his newborn nephew, but also spends time with a Nativity mosaic by Pietro Cavallini and a Nativity painting by Gerard David.)
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SONGS:
Here are four newly released Christmas songs of note: two originals, one lyrical adaptation of a classic, and a new arrangement.
>> “War on Christmas” by Seryn:Seryn’s new album is titled War on Christmas. Here’s the title track:
The refrain is:
There is a war on Christmas But it’s not the one you think It’s in the news, it’s out of mind It happens overseas Cause as we sing the hymns and songs With families by our sides There is a war on Christmas Someone’s fighting to survive
“War on Christmas” is a phrase some Christian conservatives in the US use to express their feeling of having their faith traditions attacked by the sinister forces of pluralism when people or signage greet them with a generic “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” I roll my eyes big-time when I hear people complain about this, because it’s ridiculous for any American to assert that they are impeded from or ostracized for celebrating Christmas in this country, or to take offense that a stranger does not automatically assume their particular religious affiliation.
Seryn’s song affirms that yes, there is a war on Christmas—only it’s a war not against personal religious freedoms in America but against peace, love, and the other values Christ came to teach and embody. When humans wage literal wars with literal weapons, killing and maiming each other and inducing mass terror—that’s an assault against Christ’s mass, with its message of welcome and reconciliation. So, too, when we perpetuate hate, whether on personal, national, or global scales. As another Christmas song puts it, “Hate is strong and mocks the song of ‘Peace on earth, goodwill to men.’”
>> “O New Commingling! O Strange Conjunction!” by the Anachronists: The lyrics to this new song by the Anachronists [previously]—Corey Janz, Andrés Pérez González, and Jonathan Lipps—are a paraphrase from the sermon “On the Theophany, or Birthday of Christ” by Gregory of Nazianzus (ca. 329–390), one of the most influential and poetic theologians of the early church. Gregory delivered the sermon, labeled “Oration 38” in the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers series, at Christmastime in 380 in Constantinople, where he served as bishop. In section 13, the Anachronists’ source for the song, he expresses awe at the beautiful mystery of the Incarnation. Below is an excerpt from the public-domain NPNF translation.
The Word of God Himself—Who is before all worlds, the Invisible, the Incomprehensible, the Bodiless, Beginning of Beginning, the Light of Light, the Source of Life and Immortality, the Image of the Archetypal Beauty, the immovable Seal, the unchangeable Image, the Father’s Definition and Word—came to His own Image, and took on Him flesh for the sake of our flesh, and mingled Himself with an intelligent soul for my soul’s sake, purifying like by like; and in all points except sin was made man. . . . O new commingling; O strange conjunction; the Self-Existent comes into being, the Uncreate is created, That which cannot be contained is contained. . . . He Who gives riches becomes poor, for He assumes the poverty of my flesh, that I may assume the richness of His Godhead. He that is full empties Himself, for He empties Himself of His glory for a short while, that I may have a share in His fullness. What is the riches of His goodness? What is this mystery that is around me? I had a share in the image; I did not keep it; He partakes of my flesh that He may both save the image and make the flesh immortal. He communicates a second Communion far more marvelous than the first.
>> “Away in a Manger (Then to Calvary)” by Sarah Sparks: Singer-songwriter Sarah Sparks [previously] released a new EP, Christmas Hymns, last month, comprising five classic carols, including one with revised lyrics that further draw out the significance of the Incarnation. I’m a big fan of Sparks’s voice and her no-frills acoustic style.
Away in the manger No crib for a bed The great King of Heaven Does lay down his head The stars he created Look down where he lay The little Lord Jesus Asleep on the hay
And there in the manger The Maker of earth In riches and glory? No, born in the dirt With oxen and cattle With shepherds and sheep No stranger to weakness He loves even me
And there in the manger Is our Servant-King He sits with the lowly He washes their feet Away in the manger Then to Calvary His birth, life, and death And his raising for me
And there in the manger Is my greatest friend His mercy, his patience His grace know no end Be near me, Lord Jesus For all of my days In life and in death Till we meet face to face
>> “Angels We Have Heard on High” by the Petersens: Last Friday the Petersens [previously] released a music video—shot at Wonderland Tree Farm in Pea Ridge, Arkansas—debuting their new bluegrass arrangement of one of my favorite Christmas carols. Banjo, mandolin, fiddle, acoustic guitar, dobro, upright bass—I love the instrumentation of the bluegrass genre and what it adds here, and the Petersens are consummate performers.
What is that coming up from the wilderness like columns of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all the fragrant powders of a merchant?
—Song of Solomon 3:6 (KJV)
Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the LORD is risen upon thee.
—Isaiah 60:1 (KJV)
Awake, awake; put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city. . . . Shake thyself from the dust; arise, and sit down, O Jerusalem: loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion. For thus saith the LORD, Ye have sold yourselves for nought; and ye shall be redeemed without money.
—Isaiah 52:1–3 (KJV)
LOOK: Eve by Kiki Smith
Kiki Smith (American, 1954–), Eve, 2001. Manzini (resin and marble dust) and graphite, 20 3/8 × 5 × 6 3/4 in. (51.8 × 12.7 × 17.1 cm). Source: Kiki Smith: A Gathering, 1980–2005, p. 247
Eve, the mother of all living, a representative of humanity. The crown of God’s creation, and yet she distrusted God’s word, transgressed his command, breaking what was intended to be an eternal communion. In this small sculpture, she looks up, raising her hands in front of her face—in a gesture of prayer or praise? Shielding her eyes from brightness? Could it be she sees redemption on the horizon?
LISTEN: “Lecha Dodi” (Come, My Beloved), traditional Jewish hymn | Words by Shlomo ha-Levi Alkabetz, based on verses from the Hebrew Bible, 16th century | Music by Maayan Tzafrir, 2021 | Sung by Maayan Tzafrir, 2021
(Turn on CC on the video to read the Hebrew lyrics alongside the English.)
ENGLISH TRANSLATION (supplied by 12 Tribes Music):
Rouse yourselves! Rouse yourselves! [Isa. 51:17] Your light is coming; rise up and shine. [Isa. 60:1] Awake! Awake! Utter a song. The glory of God is revealed upon you.
Who is this that cometh up out of the wilderness, Perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, With all the fragrant powders of a merchant? [Song of Sol. 3:6]
Shake off the ashes! Rise up from the dust! Put on your garments of splendor, my people. [Isa. 52:1] Through the son of Yishai [Jesse] of Bethlehem, Redemption draws near to my soul.
Awake! Awake! Utter a song, Let me see thy countenance. Awake! Awake! Utter a song, Let me hear thy voice.
When I was a student at UNC–Chapel Hill, I was curious to learn more about the Jewish roots of my Christian faith. I reached out to the Jewish campus organization Hillel, and they invited me to attend their Shabbat dinner, hosted every Friday at sundown at a large house on Cameron Ave.
Most markedly, I remember, before eating, the communal singing of the piyyut (Jewish liturgical poem) “Lecha Dodi” as everyone turned to face the door. I had no idea what the words meant—they were in Hebrew—or what the orientation of bodies was communicating. The song was part of the group’s regular liturgy, familiar to the Jewish students who were gathered, so no introduction or explanation was given, no lyric sheet that I recall. Afterward I asked the rabbi what just happened. “We welcomed in the Shabbat bride,” she said. “The Shekinah.” (The Shekinah is a dwelling or settling of the divine presence. The word is a feminine noun in Hebrew.)
I was puzzled by this statement. It sounded so mystical, challenging my very literalistic sensibilities at the time. The words of the song, by the rabbi and Kabbalist Shlomo ha-Levi Alkabetz (1500–1576), are mostly a composite of scripture texts from the Song of Songs, Isaiah, and elsewhere. Rabbi Shlomo personifies Shabbat (the Sabbath) as a bride, and Israel as her mate. The song anticipates the everlasting Shabbat, ultimate redemption, as the people of Israel ask God to bring about messianic deliverance.
I was taken back to this experience from almost twenty years ago when recently, I came across a version of the “Lecha Dodi” distributed by 12 Tribes Music [previously]. There are hundreds of different tunes for Rabbi Shlomo’s text, from medieval Moorish to northern European folk; but 12 Tribes features a newer setting by the Israeli musician Maayan Tzafrir.
The YouTube video description provides some biographical background:
Maayan Tzafrir is a singer and musician who weaves Balkan and Middle Eastern musical traditions with her Jewish roots. In her music she combines ancient piyutim (chants) with folk melodies. Maayan’s original compositions are inspired by Greek, Bulgarian, Georgian, and Turkish traditions. Maayan is the founder and vocal leader of the Yearot Ensemble, a singer in the Greek band Tavernikos, founder of The Hebrew Balkan Choir, and conductor of various workshops, meetings, and tours focusing on Balkan traditional singing with a Hebrew and feminine spirit.
The lyrics provided for Tzafrir’s version differ slightly from the traditional lyrics. It appears that she uses verses 5 and 4, with complementary material in between.
As a Christian, I can’t help but hear these words in light of Jesus. Several of the Hebrew scripture texts for Jewish Shabbat overlap with the Hebrew scripture texts for the Christian season of Advent, which is itself a dedicated time of looking forward to the arrival of the Messiah, beseeching his coming to dwell.
The phrase “son of Jesse” is a reference to the royal Davidic line from which the Messiah will come—and, in Christian belief, did come, in Jesus of Nazareth, son of Mary, who has since ascended into heaven but has promised to return to bring about the fullness of God’s kingdom.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders, and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Great will be his authority, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.
—Isaiah 9:2, 6–7
LOOK:Sunlight in Forest by Charles Burchfield
Charles Burchfield (American, 1893–1967), Sunlight in Forest, 1916. Watercolor and graphite pencil on paper, 20 × 13 15/16 in. (50.8 × 35.4 cm). Whitney Museum of American Art, New York Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
LISTEN: “Isaiah’s Prophecy” | Words by Joanna Forbes L’Estrange, after Isaiah 9:2, 6–7 | Music by Alexander L’Estrange | Performed by London Voices, dir. Ben Parry, with Richard Gowers on organ, on Winter Light (2024)
The people who walked in darkness, who live in a land of dark, the people who walked in darkness, have seen a great light.
Refrain: And all because a child is born! And all because a child is born! To us a son is given.
He’ll be the Wonderful Counselor, the Everlasting Father. He’ll be the Wonderful Counselor, he’ll be the Prince of Peace. [Refrain]
He’ll reign on the throne of David, establishing and upholding it. He’ll reign on the throne of David from then and evermore.
Ending: And all because a child is born! And all because a son is giv’n! The people who walked in darkness will walk, will walk in the light— walk in the light!
This work by the British choral composer Alexander L’Estrange has a steady, funky groove, with a time signature that alternates between 7/8, 4/4, and 3/4.
“The contrast between ‘the people who walked in darkness’ and the ‘child is born’ is highlighted by the shift from the harmonic minor tonality of the verses to the major tonality of the refrain,” L’Estrange writes in his composer’s note. “Enjoy the moment at the end of each refrain where the organist stops playing and the choir sings ‘to us a son is given,’ taking us back to the minor for the next verse.”
LOOK: the rain bows and the rainbows by Katy Mixon
Katy Mixon (American, 1984–), The rain bows and the rainbows (one day we will switch sides), 2018. Oil paint and used hand rags on muslin, 100 × 138 in.
I saw this quilt by Katy Mixon in December 2021 at the exhibition Break the Mold: New Takes on Traditional Art Making at the North Carolina Museum of Art. I was struck first by its prismatic color, and then by its title—which, the artist told me, comes from a dream she had after her close friend died. To bow, long o, is to bend into a curve; as a noun, a bow is a weapon used to propel an arrow, or a knotted ribbon typically worn by young girls. To bow, short o (as in “ow”), is to incline in respect or submission. The multiple meanings of this homograph open the title to different readings.
But the overall meaning points to the multihued arc that appears in the sky after a rainfall, as sunlight refracts through water vapor.
In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the rainbow is a sign of God’s covenant with Noah and has come to symbolize divine promise more generally, or hope—after the bleakness, beauty.
Mixon’s making process involves upcycling rags, which is itself a kind of redemptive act, saving used scraps and piecing them together into a new whole.
“Katy Mixon’s ‘quilts’ began as an outgrowth of her painting process,” the NCMA exhibition text read. “She routinely wipes her hands, palette knives, and other tools with baby wipes, which she then tosses into her studio’s garbage can. ‘One day [I] looked at the trash and realized it was full of all this hastily discarded color,’ she notes. She began saving the vibrant detritus with no specific purpose in mind, but after remembering her grandmother’s homemade quilts and discovering the famed African American quiltmakers of Gee’s Bend, Alabama, Mixon had a plan for her colorful scraps. ‘For me, the quilted works are alternate endings in the painting’s life cycle,’ Mixon says. ‘Painting as a practice, with the used rags as kaleidoscopic evidence.’”
Describing her technique, Mixon told me: “I compose the pieced tops and work with local longarm quilters to add the batting and backing. I finish each piece with hand stitching, often using crewel embroidery to define brush marks and tonal variations.”
LISTEN: “Joyful” | Words by Kate Bluett | Music by Paul Zach | Performed by Paul Zach with Taylor Leonhardt and Nick Dahlquist, on Christmas Hymns (2022)
The MP3 file of the song is embedded here with Paul Zach’s permission.
Come, O Lord, and make us joyful as you came to Mary’s womb; buried deep beneath our sorrows, where our hopes take root and bloom. Be the promise that sustains us through the seasons of the years, ’til at last we see your radiance when you shine beyond our tears.
Come, O Lord, and show your mercy as you came in Bethlehem; let us see the sunlight bursting through the shadows once again. Let us hear the song of glory where the silence held us fast. We will come to you rejoicing from the shackles of the past.
Come, O Lord, as living water; make our deserts green again, where the wellspring of our laughter will refresh us like the rain. After all the years of waiting for the promise long foretold, come at last, and let the day break in the morning of your joy!
Mary’s response to this announcement [of Jesus’s forthcoming birth]—her Magnificat—is even more overtly revolutionary. Her song in Luke’s Gospel is not a lullaby; it is a manifesto. She declares that the mighty will be cast down from their thrones, the lowly lifted, the hungry filled with good things, and the rich sent away empty. This is the language of redistribution, the language of a world reordered by justice rather than domination. It is no surprise that tyrants have feared this text; throughout modern history, the Magnificat has been prohibited and/or discouraged in public worship in places like Guatemala, Argentina, and India because oppressed communities used it as a rallying cry for liberation. Mary’s theology is insurgent.
What I love about Hannah and Mary is they step into God’s eternal streams of justice and of righteousness and of what it means to live as a faithful follower of Yahweh. They step into this expansive world of what God is going to do and has promised to do in the world, instead of the smaller space of their own need—which again, is OK and understandable. But they take us to places where, if we’re honest, most of our prayers don’t regularly go.
VIDEO DEVOTION:“Beholding the Magnificat with Mary Gardner”: In this “Space for God” video devotion from Coracle, Rev. Mary Amendolia Gardner, an Anglican priest with a bachelor’s degree in art history and a master’s in Christian spirituality, guides us in lectio divina (sacred reading) with Luke 1:46–55 and visio divina (sacred seeing) with James Tissot’s Magnificat.
James Tissot (French, 1836–1902), The Magnificat, 1886–94. Opaque watercolor over graphite on gray wove paper, 9 15/16 × 4 5/8 in. (25.2 × 11.7 cm). Brooklyn Museum, New York.
I typically don’t care for Tissot’s biblical watercolors, because of their illustrative quality—they remind me of pictures from the Sunday school curriculum I followed as a child. But I do like this one, which shows Mary in a position of wisdom and authority, absorbed in prayer, preparing to preach and prophesy. Elizabeth and Zechariah stand in attentive awe on the sidelines, their eyes directed toward the divine child she carries in her body while they await her words. The priest’s tongue had been tied, but Mary’s has been loosed. The Cuban American theologian Kat Armas, in the post quoted above, calls Mary “the first theologian of the Gospel,” as she boldly proclaims the messianic deliverance God has set in motion.
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SONGS:
>> “For Ages Women Hoped and Prayed” by Jane Parker Huber: “We join the song that Mary sings, an earthly, heavenly theme.” Performed at Wheaton Bible Church in Illinois.
>> “Mary, Did You Know”with alternative lyrics by Jennifer Henry: The original lyrics of this Gaither Vocal Band song were written by Mark Lowry in 1985, and they were set to music by Buddy Greene in 1991; the song became a popular hit. However, some Christians take issue with the rhetorical device that implies Mary did not know her son was God, that he would deliver Israel, and that he would reign forever, when that’s precisely what Gabriel told her from the beginning and what she alludes to in her Magnificat. (Defenders say these questions are most likely voiced by people in Mary’s life who didn’t know all that God had conveyed to her; or that it’s legitimate to wonder whether Mary knew the specifics that would unfold, and to suppose that even if she knew theoretically who Jesus was, she may have struggled to grasp the full scope and significance of his messiahship.)
In 2017, the Canadian theologian and activist Jennifer Henry rewrote the lyrics to center on the Magnificat and its mobilizing influence on justice movements across the globe. That song is sung here by Eric Lige, who is accompanied by Vahagn Stepanyan on piano.
>> “Magnificat” by Simon de Voil, feat. Alexa Sunshine Rose: This adaptation of the Magnificat is by Simon de Voil, a sacred musician, “interspiritual minister,” and retreat leader originally from Scotland now living in Vermont. The imagery in the video is not what I would have expected: It’s footage of bears in the woods. Perhaps it alludes to how all of creation will be redeemed in “the world that is to come”? The bears here, though, seem at peace, so maybe it’s a picture of blessedness, or of creation’s praise alongside Mary’s.
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SERMON:“Liberated to See by the God Who Sees” by Wes Vander Lugt, Trinity Forest Church, Concord, North Carolina, December 7, 2025: I’m always pleased when preachers, as part of their biblical exegesis, skillfully integrate art into their sermons—not as mere illustration or decoration but as itself interpreting scripture and/or doing theological work. In the sermon he gave for the Second Sunday of Advent this year, Rev. Dr. Wes Vander Lugt [previously], an ordained Presbyterian minister and director of the Leighton Ford Initiative in Theology, the Arts, and Gospel Witness at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, preached on Luke 1:5–25, 39–45, about how God sees us and liberates us to see him and others. He discusses Rembrandt’s Visitation painting, especially the artist’s use of light and shadow—Mary and Elizabeth step out of the shadows, out of a place of feeling unseen, into the light of God’s grace, says Vander Lugt, where they are known and knowing.
Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn (Dutch, 1606–1669), The Visitation, 1640. Oil on cedar panel, 22 1/4 × 18 7/8 in. (56.5 × 47.9 cm). Detroit Institute of Arts, Michigan. [object record]
He also touches on, very briefly, James B. Janknegt’s 2008 Visitation, which shows how John the Baptist has been liberated to see Jesus, even as the two are still in utero. See 17:49–20:05.
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FROM THE ARCHIVE: The Magnificat is a topic I’ve covered on the blog several times over the past ten years. Here are some examples:
I feel the flames, oh Madonna I feel the heat of your child Birthing from all heaven’s glory Clothed in the brown skin of God I see a light in the desert I see it blazing on high Burning down all preconceived Notions of who you would be
Refrain: Call it a sweet, oh, a sweet premonition We saw no defeat as we labored the weight of the fire Curious woman, the revolution is your joy
I’ve kept my hopes locked away I’ve kept my scars in a jar I thought that love had a limit Careful not to reach too far Flipping that table of lies Breached but I’m breathing just fine Dear woman, please recognize Divinity held inside [Refrain]
I feel the flames, oh Madonna I feel the heat of your child Birthing from all heaven’s glory Clothed in the brown skin of God
In this outdoor Andean Annunciation scene, the angel Gabriel arrives with a gust of wind before Mary, who has a satchel of freshly harvested corn slung over her shoulders. He wears llama or alpaca pants, part of the traditional male dress in the highlands of Ecuador. With his right hand he gestures toward the heavens, and with his left he gestures toward her, as if to say, “Heaven’s coming down to earth—God wants to be made human in you.”
He smiles. She smiles. Her face is illumined by beams of divine grace. She extends her arms to embrace her new vocation as Mother of God.
LISTEN: “Bendita seas, María” (Blessed Are You, Mary) by Ariel Glaser, on Tercer Milenio, 1997 | Performed by Jimena Muñoz with Brother Alex, 2020
En un silencio profundo tejías plegarias a un Dios que escuchaba tus simples palabras, pequeña María entregada a su amor. Y en una tarde tranquila rompiendo el silencio, las alas de un ángel, sonaban al tiempo que te saludaba de parte de Dios.
Estribillo 1: ¡Bendita seas, María, entre toda mujer! ¡Has encontrado gracia a los ojos de Dios! María, Madre suplicante, ayúdame también a escucharlo a Él.
Fue la palabra más dulce que tocó la tierra, la que te propuso cumplir la promesa de que nacería nuestro Salvador. «Hágase en mí como has dicho;» respondiste al ángel, y el Santo Espíritu descendió al instante. Te habías convertido en Madre de Dios.
Estribillo 2: Bendita seas María, hija del Padre, Esposa del Espíritu, Madre del Emanuel. María, Madre de Jesús, ayúdame, también a decir amén.
ENGLISH TRANSLATION (my own):
In profound silence you wove prayers to a God who heard your simple words, little Mary, surrendered as you were to his love. And on a quiet afternoon, breaking the silence, the wings of an angel sounded as he greeted you on behalf of God.
Refrain 1: Blessed are you, Mary, among all women! You have found favor in the eyes of God! Mary, supplicating mother, help me to listen to him too.
It was the sweetest word that touched the earth, the one that offered you the promise of the birth of our Savior. “Let it be done to me according to your word,” you replied to the angel, and the Holy Spirit descended instantly. You had become the Mother of God.
Refrain 2: Blessed are you, Mary, daughter of the Father, wife of the Spirit, mother of Emmanuel. Mary, mother of Jesus, help me also to say amen.
This song marvels at Mary’s unique calling while recognizing that we, too, are called to say yes and amen (“let it be”) to God’s will in our lives, which includes being filled with Christ.
The first two lines of the first refrain combine Elizabeth’s exclamation to Mary in Luke 1:42 (“Blessed are you among women!”) with Gabriel’s declaration in Luke 1:30 (“You have found favor with God”).
The epithets in the second refrain highlight Mary’s relationship to the three persons of the Trinity. She is a child of God the Father, as we all are. But she was also wed to God’s Spirit, experiencing a unique and nonsexual union that resulted in the conception of Jesus, the Son of God. Jesus received his flesh from Mary, and she mothered him from his birth to his death. The title Theotokos—God-bearer, or Mother of God—was formally affirmed for Mary at the Council of Ephesus in 431 and is held true by all three branches of Christianity.
The songwriter, Ariel Glaser, is from Argentina. He describes himself as “a catechist who sings,” teaching Catholic doctrines in schools and churches through traditional methods and song. He and his wife are members of the Convivencia con Dios (CcD), a charismatic Catholic movement made up of both laypeople and religious, both men and women, responding to Jesus’s call in John 17: “Father, may they all be one as you and I are one!” Follow Glaser on Facebook.
The singer, Jimena Muñoz, has been singing and playing guitar since age twelve. In addition to making gospel-centered music, she is also a professor of sacred sciences (a field in Catholic institutions that includes theology, canon law, philosophy, biblical studies, church history, and liturgy), and a pastoral coordinator for CEF (Centro Educativo Franciscano) La Rioja.
LOOK: The Wise and Foolish Virgins, Norwegian tapestry
The Wise and Foolish Virgins, Norway, 17th century. Wool, bast fiber, 83 1/2 × 61 in. (212.1 × 154.9 cm). Minneapolis Institute of Art, Minneapolis, Minnesota.
The golden age of Norwegian tapestry (billedvev) spans roughly 1550 to 1800. Of all the woven subjects during this period, the Wise and Foolish Virgins was the most popular. The art historian Thor B. Kielland registered a total of seventy-five such tapestries from the seventeenth century alone. Draped over a bed, they would have provided warmth, decoration, and moral instruction. I love their aesthetic!
Jesus’s parable of the wise and foolish virgins comes from Matthew 25. Ten young women are members of a bridal party, and they’re awaiting the arrival of the bridegroom so that the celebration can start. In the tapestry pictured here, the top figures represent the wise virgins, whose oil-filled lamps indicate their readiness to accompany the bridegroom to the wedding feast. Those in the lower register, however, foolishly allowed their lamps to burn out; they weep into their handkerchiefs because the feasting started when they were out replenishing their oil supply, and now they’re too late.
That’s Christ the bridegroom in the upper right.
If I’m honest, this parable is uncomfortable for me. I don’t like that the neglectful women are locked out of the party. I don’t want anyone who wants in to be turned away. I want the bridegroom to show them grace, as the landowner did the day laborers who worked the vineyard for only one hour, giving them the same wage as those who worked for nine. But the parable of the virgins, with its stark sense of finality, is one of Christ’s teachings, so I want to grapple with it, not simply ignore it to suit my own proclivities.
I learned much about the existing body of Ten Virgins tapestries from rural Norway from Laura Berlage’s webinar “Dressing the Wise and Foolish Virgins: What Tapestry Can Teach Us About Women, Dress, and Culture in 16th and 17th Century Norway,” presented on July 17, 2023. She says the tapestries were made by women (unlike those produced by the guilds in Flanders and Paris), for women (they were used as bridal coverlets and included in dowries). They preached preparedness for young wives. “Good comes to those who are prepared,” Berlage elaborates; “you can’t get to heaven by borrowing someone else’s spiritual work.”
Regarding the headwear, Berlage clarifies: “The crowns the virgins wear are not because they’re princesses. There is a special tradition in Norway of wearing a crown at your wedding, which is an ancient nod to the Norse goddess Freja (later said to be an emblem of the Virgin Mary).”
Over time, Berlage says, the original meaning of the parable got lost, such that weavers no longer differentiated between the two sets of virgins, for example. She calls this phenomenon “image decay” and compares it to the telephone game.
For a shorter, less academic lesson on the ten virgins in Norwegian tapestry, see the six-minute video “Woven Wise and Foolish Virgins” by Robbie LaFleur:
LISTEN: “Himmelriket Liknas Vid Tio Jungfrur” (The Kingdom of Heaven Is Like Unto Ten Virgins) | Words from Then Swenska Psalmboken (The Swedish Hymnbook), 1697 | Traditional melody from Mockfjärd, collected by Nils Andersson in 1907 from Anders Frisell | Performed by Margareta Jonth on the album Religious Folk-Songs from Dalecarlia, 1977, reissued 1994
Himnelriket liknas vid tio jungfrur som voro av olika kynne. Fem månde oss visa vår tröga natur Vårt sömnig och syndiga sinne. Gud nåde oss syndare arma.
Vår brudgum drog bort uti främmande land Och månde de jungfrur befalla Sig möta med ljus och lampor i hand Enär som han ville dem kalla. De fävitske dröjde för länge.
De ropa: O Herre, o Herre låt opp, Låt oss icke bliva utslutna! Men ute var nåden, all väntan, allt hopp Ty bliva de arma förskjutna Till helvetets jämmer och pina.
Så låter oss vaka och hava det nit Att tron och vår kärlek må brinna. Vi måge här följa vår brudgum med flit Och eviga salighet finna. Det himmelska bröllopet. Amen.
The kingdom of heaven is like unto ten virgins Who were of different character. Five showed us our slothful nature, Our sleepy and sinful selves. God have mercy on us poor sinners.
Our bridegroom traveled in foreign lands And ordered the virgins To meet him with lighted lamp in hand Whenever he called them. The foolish ones waited too long.
They cry, “O Lord, O Lord, open up, Let us not be locked out!” But it was too late for mercy, for waiting, for hope, For the poor souls were cast Into hell’s wailing and torment.
So let us watch and show zeal That faith and our love may burn. Let us follow our bridegroom diligently And find eternal bliss, The heavenly wedding. Amen.
His face was like the sun shining with full force.
—Revelation 1:16
[. . .] make ready for the Face that speaks like lightning, Uttering the new name of your exultation Deep in the vitals of your soul. Make ready for the Christ, Whose smile, like lightning, Sets free the song of everlasting glory That now sleeps, in your paper flesh, like dynamite.
—Thomas Merton, from “The Victory” (1946)
LOOK: Portrait of Jesus by Hatigammana Uttarananda
Hatigammana Uttarananda is a Sri Lankan Buddhist monk, artist, and scholar. His friendship with Fr. Aloysius Pieris, SJ—a Jesuit priest, liberation theologian, and founding director of the Tulana Research Centre for Encounter and Dialogue in Kelaniya—led him to study the Christian Gospels and to portray some of its stories in his paintings.
In his semiabstract Portrait of Jesus, Christ’s face gives off a deep radiance. He is both enlightened and enlightening.
“Bikku Uttarananda portrays Jesus with lowered eyelids, the enlightened one who has found the true meaning of life and is united in compassion with the suffering of all beings,” writes the Christian theologian Wesley Ariarajah in Christ for All People: Celebrating a World of Christian Art. “The rays of the light of life burst through his forehead; the colours are those of the saffron robes of the Buddhist monk and the fire of self-giving.”
LISTEN: “When Jesus Comes,” African American spiritual | Arranged by Alice Parker, 1988, and performed by The Musicians of Melodious Accord on Listen, Lord: A Cantata, Two Suites, and Eight Spirituals, 2010
When Jesus comes, he’ll outshine the sun Outshine the sun Outshine the sun When Jesus comes, he’ll outshine the sun Look away beyond the moon
When Jesus comes, we’ll sing Hosiana! . . .
When Jesus comes, we’ll shout Hallelujah! . . .
If you want to see King Jesus, keep prayin’ on . . .
Alice Parker (1925–2023) was an American composer, arranger, conductor, and teacher whose arrangements of hymns, spirituals, and folk songs of American, French, Spanish, Hebrew, and Ladino origin have become part of the repertoire of choirs around the world. In addition to arrangements, she also wrote original works, including operas, song cycles, cantatas, choral suites, and hymns. In 1985 she founded the professional choir Melodious Accord, with whom she released fourteen albums.
For the African American spiritual “When Jesus Comes,” she cites her source as The Negro Sings a New Heaven, a collection compiled by Mary Allen Grissom (University of North Carolina Press, 1930).
Art & Theology 