EXHIBITION: Living by the Rule: Contemporary Meets Medieval, Sainsbury Centre, Norwich, May 16–October 4, 2026: Curated by Jessica Barker and Ed Krčma, Living by the Rule puts objects from medieval Benedictine monastic contexts into dialogue with contemporary artworks, creating a reciprocity and generating reflection on the rules we live by today—how we structure our everyday lives. For example, a set of mazers (drinking vessels used by monks) from Canterbury is juxtaposed with Andrea Büttner’s Table woodcut and an apartheid-era drawing of a Seder by the Jewish South African artist Vivienne Koorland. Three tapestries from Susan Morris’s SunDial:NightWatch series, recording the amount of ambient light the artist was exposed to during the years 2010, 2011, and 2012, are displayed alongside the San Zeno Wheel, a rare manuscript volvelle (a timekeeping device with movable, rotating discs) from ca. 1455 Verona, Italy (view photos here).
An untitled 2020 crucifix by Danh Vo—a bronze cast of a sixteenth-century Spanish corpus of Christ, decorated with pampas grass—hangs at the entrance to the exhibition Living by the Rule: Contemporary Meets Medieval at the Sainsbury Centre in Norwich, England.
>> Golden Madonna, with heads by Walter Moroder: Last fall when I was in Germany, I took a day trip from Hanover to the city of Hildesheim (just a half hour south by train)—I wanted to see the fabulously painted ceiling of St. Michael’s Church, as well as the bronze Bernward Doors at St. Mary’s Cathedral. Well, the cathedral was closed for a funeral when I arrived, so while I waited for it to reopen, I spent time in the adjacent Dommuseum (Cathedral Museum) Hildesheim. There I saw this unusual-looking Virgin and Child sculpture, whose gold-plated limewood core looked medieval to me, but whose heads, also wooden, looked contemporary. The plaque underneath confirmed my suspicions, giving a date of 1010–15, “with heads by Walter Moroder, 2013.”
Golden Madonna, Hildesheim, ca. 1010–15, with heads by Walter Moroder, 2013. Gold sheet on linden wood core, filigree, precious stones, 56.6 × 25.5 × 25.2 cm. Cathedral Museum, Hildesheim, Germany, Inv. DS 82. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
Showing Mary enthroned with her son Jesus, the Golden Madonna of Hildesheim is one of the most important works of Ottonian art and, at over a thousand years old, is among the oldest three-dimensional sculptures in the medieval Latin West. It was probably commissioned by St. Bernward, bishop of Hildesheim from 993 to 1022. It stood on the high altar of Hildesheim Cathedral from at least the thirteenth century onward and was often carried in procession.
Its heavy liturgical usage led to the original heads, Mary’s left hand, and both the Christ child’s hands breaking off and becoming lost. The twentieth century saw a succession of restored heads, but the sculpture was exhibited more often without them, until recently. To commemorate a major interior redesign, the Dommuseum commissioned the contemporary South Tyrolean artist Walter Moroder to make new heads; he completed them in 2013, and they were attached in 2014. Moroder’s additions are not restoration-style but markedly contemporary, creating a compelling fusion of old and new while still honoring the sacred and historical significance of the object.
>> Vitrail des cent visages (Stained Glass Window of 100 Faces) by Véronique Ellena and Pierre-Alain Parot: To commemorate the millennium of the 1015 founding of Strasbourg Cathedral, the French state commissioned a contemporary stained glass window to be installed in two unadorned bays in the cathedral’s Saint Catherine Chapel. The commission was awarded to the artist Véronique Ellena, who works mainly in photography, and the master glassmaker Pierre Alain Parot; the two worked together on a design, which was executed by GLASSOLUTIONS Saint-Gobain, who used their advanced Dip-Tech digital ceramic in-glass printer to reproduce Ellena’s photographs on glass—a groundbreaking technique. Parot then applied a blown glass second skin over the printed imagery.
Installed in September 2015, the window features a half-length image of Christ, based on the early Netherlandish painting Christ Blessing by Hans Memling, but with the face made up of 150-some faces of everyday people who have come to the cathedral. This photomontage approach to imaging Christ—constituting his visage with those of diverse others—is profound, inviting connections to theological anthropology (humans being created in the imago Dei), the incarnation (God assuming ourflesh), and ecclesiology (the church as the “body of Christ”).
Véronique Ellena and Pierre-Alain Parot, Stained Glass Window of 100 Faces, 2015. Digitally printed glass, manufactured by GLASSOLUTIONS Saint-Gobain, height 7.8 m. Saint Catherine Chapel, Strasbourg Cathedral, Alsace, France.Details
You admire this temple wrought by the hands of artisans; you admire its precious adornments which will be as dust before the face of the wind. You ought rather to wonder at the heavens and the earth, the land and the sea, and all the things that are in them; to wonder at the ornaments of the heavens, namely the sun and the moon and the stars, and at their servitude, whereby from the beginning of the world to the end thereof they run to the west and return to the east, night and day, and are not ever wearied. And when you have taken notice of these things, ask and learn who is more powerful than they! And when, by His own gift, you shall have come to know Him, . . . adore Him and glorify Him, for He is the God of gods and Lord of lords!
VIDEO SERIES: Contemporary Artists and the Sacred Space: Conversations in London, presented by the Foundation for Spirituality and the Arts and Art + Christianity: I really enjoyed this four-part series of in-depth, on-site video interviews with artists Shirazeh Houshiary (her East Window at St Martin-in-the-Fields is phenomenal!), Christopher Le Brun, Graeme Mortimer Evelyn, and Victoria Rance, each focused on a single work of art commissioned from the artist for a place of worship in London. “The series explores the conception, process, and realization of each artwork, attending to the distinctive challenges and possibilities of creating art for sacred spaces. The interviews offer rare insight into this collaborative endeavor, revealing the artists’ practices alongside their reflections on the spiritual and religious dimensions of their work.” Here’s the trailer:
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PODCAST EPISODE: “The Art of Liverpool’s Anglican Cathedral,”Exhibiting Faith: Host David Trigg and guest Laura Moffatt, director of Art + Christianity, explore a selection of modern and contemporary artworks displayed in Liverpool’s Anglican cathedral. (Links to the works discussed are at the bottom of the show notes.) Besides its several wonderful permanent installations, since 1999, Liverpool Cathedral has partnered with the Liverpool Biennial—the UK’s largest free festival of contemporary art—to host temporary installations, which last year comprised a monumental crocheted hanging by Maria Loizidou featuring migratory birds native to the Merseyside area, and a series of “glass collages” in the Lady Chapel by Ana Navas.
Elisabeth Frink (British, 1930–1993), The Welcoming Christ, 1993. Bronze, height 5 m. Above the west doors of Liverpool Cathedral.
Maria Loizidou (Cypriot, 1958–), Where Am I Now?, 2025. Double-sided handwoven inox mesh, aluminum sheets, 1000 × 400 cm. Installation at the Liverpool Biennial 2025, Liverpool Cathedral.
Deborah Mesa-Pelly (Cuban American, 1968–), Rosy, 1999. Chromogenic print mounted on aluminum, 30 × 40 in. National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington, DC. [view artist’s website]
At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
—Matthew 18:1–4 (cf. Mark 9:33–37; 10:13–16; Luke 9:46–48)
The Architect of Love has built the door into heaven so low that no one but a small child can pass through it, unless, to get down to a child’s little height, they go in on their knees.
I saw the above photograph on display several years ago at the National Museum of Women in the Arts and was captivated. The artist, Deborah Mesa-Pelly, regularly features female subjects in her work, often on the verge of marvelous adventure. In Rosy, a girl breaks through a papered wall, entering another world on hands and knees.
The image of this child-size portal leading from a dark, dusty room into a bright and verdant landscape reminds me of Jesus’s teaching that we must receive the kingdom of heaven like little children. What is it about little ones that makes God more accessible to them? What quality or qualities of children ought we to emulate?
Matthew specifically names their humility, by which he may mean their lack of pretension or worldly ambition, their dependance and trust, and/or their openness and teachability (different from naivete). Children tend to be curious, exploratory, full of wonder, energetic, honest, and unselfconscious. These are all traits I want to embody in my life of faith as I press through walls to discover more and more of the “life more abundant” that Jesus offers.
ONLINE COURSE: The Christian Imagination with Dr. Mary McCampbell,July 9–August 22, 2026: Mary McCampbell is an independent scholar of the humanities with over twenty years’ teaching experience in higher education. Starting next month, she’s offering an online course on the Christian imagination for $100 (fee paid through Venmo). Classes will take place Thursdays from 7 to 8:30 p.m. ET and will be recorded for those who can’t attend live.
“In this interdisciplinary class, we will read fiction and poetry, listen to music, and look at visual art that encourages us to recognize the mystery of God and the paradoxical nature of the human condition. We will also read essays from artists and scholars to discuss what it means for the artist of faith to create meaningful things for which faith is, as O’Connor notes, ‘the light by which I see.’ Last of all, we will address why every Christian needs to value the imagination and what this might look like in practice.” Graham Greene, Flannery O’Connor, T. S. Eliot, Leif Enger, Sho Baraka, C. S. Lewis, Christian Wiman, and Frederick Douglass are among the artists and thinkers whom participants will engage.
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ARTICLE: “Male Statues Are Transformed into Fathers Carrying Their Babies,”My Modern Met: On November 19, 2024, International Men’s Day, fathers around Sweden went out and adorned male statues with baby slings, carriers, and dolls as part of the #Kvantitetstidspappan (Quantity Time Dad) campaign conceived by the think tank Arena Idé. Its purpose was to challenge societal assumptions that women ought to be the primary caregivers to their children rather than sharing that responsibility equally with their male partner.
I believe that when it comes to work and childcare, families should do whatever works best for them but that both parents should be actively involved in their child’s upbringing and that fathers ought not to neglect the importance of bonding with their child beginning in early infancy.
Think of how many sculptures you’ve seen of a woman holding a baby. Now think of how many you’ve seen of a man holding a baby. That disparity shapes our imaginations and expectations.
That’s why the #Kvantitetstidspappan campaign was, in my estimation, a great success. By projecting images of men as active parents—models of fatherly engagement—it makes fatherhood more visible, normalizes paternal involvement in infant care and development, and hopefully encourages dads to spend more time at home with their kids.
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SONGS: Happy first day of summer!
>> “Sumer is icumen in” (Summer Is Come): “Sumer is icumen in,” also known as the Cuckoo Song or the Summer Song, is a medieval vocal composition written, most likely, by a monk in or around Reading, England, in the mid-thirteenth century, its (Middle English) lyrics and musical notation preserved in a manuscript at the British Library. The song celebrates the arrival of summer, with all its fecundity and animal movement. It’s the oldest known composition featuring six-part polyphony and, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the earliest recorded instance of the impolite verb “to fart”: “Bulluc sterteth, / Bucke verteth” (Bull leaps, buck farts)! (The translation of the latter line is, however, debated, with some scholars favoring “cavorts.”)
Here’s a wonderful solo rendition by the Burundian British musician Muco (IG @bookofvoices), with self-accompaniment on the inanga, a traditional zither from Burundi and Rwanda. Muco’s work “combine[s] lyrics and influences from Old, Middle, and Modern English, as well as French, Swahili, and Kirundi, reflecting his deep interest in the interconnection of folk traditions across cultures.” (Thanks, Instagram algorithm, for introducing me to Muco!)
See also Elizabeth Mitchell’s rendition, sung in modern English, from her 2012 album Blue Clouds. But for the full effect, performing the six-part round, here’s the Exeter University Madrigals:
PRINTABLE: Chasing Wonder: Photo Bingo Challenge: New from SALT: “Chasing Wonder: Photo Bingo Challenge is a simple, engaging way for families or congregations to slow down, notice the world around them, and reflect on God’s beauty, joy, justice, hope, humor, and inspiration all around. Participants take original photos inspired by the bingo prompts”—such as “something broken,” “something blue,” “water,” “something that makes you laugh”—“and mark off squares as they go.”
It’s $15 to print the bingo board for individuals, families, or congregations. I love this idea!
Juneteenth (June 19) is a holiday that celebrates the end of race-based chattel slavery in the United States. It rejoices in the expansion of freedom, but it also reckons with the shadow of freedoms still denied. It is thus both backward- and forward-looking. (For more on the holiday, see the article that historian Jemar Tisby published this morning: “Juneteenth Is the Counter-Narrative to America 250.”) Below are a few artistic pieces that speak to the themes of Juneteenth.
ARTWORKS: From my two most recent visits to New York City.
>> The Floating World: Lotus (125th) by Sanford Biggers:Lotus (125th) is part of the 2013 Floating World series by the multidisciplinary artist Sanford Biggers, employing paper collage, stencils, screenprint, and spray paint to construct layered compositions that blend Japanese aesthetics with African American history. “Floating world” translates the Japanese term ukiyo-e, referring to Edo-era woodblock prints, and “125th” likely refers to the main street in Harlem. The work features a mandala-like lotus flower whose petals are eighteenth-century diagrams showing enslaved humans tightly packed into the cargo hold of a ship. What looks pleasing from a distance is, on closer inspection, horrifying.
Sanford Biggers (American, 1970–), The Floating World: Lotus (125th), 2013. Screenprint and collage, image: 27 15/16 × 26 3/8 in. (71 × 67 cm), sheet (irregular): 27 15/16 × 26 3/8 in. (71 × 67 cm). Edition 1/30. The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Print Collection, New York Public Library. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
Biggers lived in Japan for three years in the 1990s, where he became greatly influenced by Zen Buddhism. In Buddhism, the lotus is associated with awakening, purity, transcendence. The slave-ship-lotus is a motif the artist has used in other works—see, e.g., here and here—and I’m not exactly sure what to make of it. Is it about how the pain, trauma, and destruction wrought by slavery can be transmuted into enlightenment, progress? Or is the disjunction between beautiful flower and ugly abuse meant to be ironic, perhaps a statement about how we tend to palliate the vile parts of American history?
>> Contending with Contingency I by Kenturah Davis:Kenturah Davis is a multidisciplinary artist working between Los Angeles and Accra. Oscillating between facets of portraiture and design, her work explores the fundamental role language has in shaping how we understand ourselves and the world. Contending with Contingency I is the first work in a series engaging the Thirteenth Amendment to the US Constitution, which abolished slavery, with one exception: Those convicted of a crime can be subjected to forced labor. The amendment was a milestone, but the punishment clause creates a contingency under which slavery can remain legal. (Ava DuVernay’s illuminating documentary 13th, on Netflix, examines how this loophole has and continues to be exploited to disproportionately incarcerate Black people.)
Kenturah Davis (American, 1984–), Contending with Contingency I, 2021. Carbon pencil, pencil, and blind debossing on nine sheets of paper, 132 × 81 in. (335.3 × 205.7 cm). Museum of Modern Art, New York. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
The eight pieces in Davis’s Contending with Contingency series depict a Black woman dancing over transcripts of the 1864–65 congressional debates regarding the language and provisions of the Thirteenth Amendment, and whether to pass it. Here’s an excerpt, for example, of the opinion given by Senator Lazarus Powell from Kentucky:
I do not believe it was ever designed by the founders of our Government that the Constitution of the United States should be so amended as to destroy property. I do not believe it is the province of the Federal Government to say what is or what is not property. . . . You seem to care for nothing but the negro. . . . You seem to be inspired by no other wish than to elevate the negro to equality and give him liberty. . . . I believe this government was made by white men and for white men; and if it is ever preserved it must be preserved by white men.
“The structures that shape our experience in the world extend from the ways we use language,” Davis says. “The implications of this language are activated through our bodies.” The legislators’ oppositional words, and the legacy they reflect and perpetuate, impede the free movement of the dancing figure—but she appears to be pushing past the obstacles, resisting dissent, claiming her right to liberty. I read the work, especially in light of the whole series, as ultimately emancipatory.
>> “Joy” by Raye, Mike Sabath, Tom Richards, Amma, and Absolutely: This song appears on the second studio album of the British pop sensation Raye (the stage name of Rachel Agatha Keen), This Music May Contain Hope, released in March. It’s based on Psalm 30:5: “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Here’s Raye singing it on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert with her sisters Amma and Absolutely. (A worship song on late-night TV!) See also the recent cover bythe Good Shepherd Collective.
>> “Someday We’ll All Be Free” by Donny Hathaway and Edward Howard, performed by the Good Shepherd Collective: In 1973, the American soul singer Donny Hathaway wrote the melody to this classic, and his friend Edward Howard wrote the lyrics. Howard said he intended it as an encouragement to Hathaway, who was struggling with paranoid schizophrenia; but it has since become an anthem of Black American civil rights. It’s sung here by Charles Jones for a Good Shepherd New York digital worship service.
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COMPILATION:“Early Photographs of Juneteenth Celebrations,”Public Domain Review: Many of the photographs that survive from turn-of-the-century Juneteenth celebrations in Texas depict elegantly dressed groups in horse-drawn carriages elaborately decorated with flowers down to the wheels.
Martha Yates Jones (left) and Pinkie Yates (right), daughters of Rev. Jack Yates, park their decorated carriage in front of Antioch Baptist Church in Houston’s Fourth Ward on June 19, 1908. Photo courtesy of the Houston Public Library Digital Archives.
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POEM:“Gospel”by Rita Dove: This poem is from Rita Dove’s Pulitzer Prize–winning collection Thomas and Beulah (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 1986), based on the lives of her maternal grandparents, who moved from Tennessee and Georgia to Akron, Ohio, during the Great Migration. Opening with the instantly recognizable phrase “Swing low” from the African American spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” it describes her grandparents’ Black church congregation as “a humming ship of voices / big with all / the wrongs done / done them,” but that “ride[s] joy.” Hymns, gospel songs, and spirituals have had a formative influence on Dove, a member of the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Zion Church, as they did too for her predecessors, lifting them out of the miseries inflicted on them by Jim Crow America and into heaven, a place of wholeness, affirmation, and triumph, where racism and lynch mobs can’t touch.
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CHORAL-ORCHESTRAL WORK:Requiem for Colour: A Journey through Lament and Joy by Jeffrey L. Ames: Composed by Dr. Jeffery Ames, Requiem for Colour (2022) is a thirteen-movement work for SATB choir, soprano, tenor, orator, rapper, orchestra, and African percussion that adapts the form of the Requiem Mass, traditionally offered for the repose of the souls of the deceased, to tell a story of Black enslavement and liberation. Gentry Publications, who publishes the score, provides this description:
Requiem for Colour by Jeffery L. Ames is a powerful choral and orchestral work that honors the lives and legacies of enslaved Blacks from 1619 to 1865 and contemporary Black martyrs who sacrificed for equality and freedom. This masterwork skillfully blends idiomatic Black musical genres with Western European composition styles, creating a unique and profound musical journey. The requiem traces the Black experience from West Africa, through the Middle Passage, slavery, and sharecropping in the South, to the Civil Rights Movement and today’s ongoing fight against racism and injustice. The libretto incorporates narratives from enslaved people, sharecroppers, and contemporary activists, offering an aesthetic experience that both commemorates and challenges. This deeply moving work is a testament to the resilience and complexity of Black American history.
In this February 5, 2025, performance at the Fisher Center for the Performing Arts at Belmont University in Nashville, Ames conducts the Belmont University Oratorio Chorus and Orchestra, comprising over 450 students. The performance features soprano NaGuanda Nobles, tenor Rodrick Dixon, and orators Jasmine Simmons and Elliott Robinson, plus a lyrical rap by the composer’s daughter, Lydia Ames. The concert and its recording—which aired June 18, 2025, on WNPT, Nashville’s PBS station—were made possible by a grant from the Creative Arts Collective.
The American Visionary Art Museum, located right off Baltimore’s Inner Harbor, is midway through its two-year exhibition The Strength to Be Joyful: Messages from Mary Proctor. Exuberant, colorful, and eclectic, the paintings on display, many of them collaged with buttons, cloth, and found objects, are filled with stories from Proctor’s life, lessons taught to her by her grandmother, and prayers and scripture. Her work celebrates faith, love, friendship, creativity, and self-worth.
Mary Louise Proctor (née Cooksey) was born June 11, 1960, in Lloyd, Florida, a small town in Jefferson County, about twenty miles east of Tallahassee. Her mother Paulina gave birth to her at a young age, and she was raised by her maternal grandparents, Frank and Hattie Cooksey. She had an especially close bond with her grandmother, who formed her in the Christian faith and whom she describes as tender, wise, and forgiving.
One particular episode she recalls from her childhood is accidentally breaking a stack of her grandmother’s Blue Willow plates while reaching for a teacake. “I thought she would whip me,” Proctor recounted in paint in 1997. “Instead she held my hands and said, ‘I forgive you cause just yesterday God forgave me.’ And she said one must forgive to be forgiven.” The door painting Story of Grandma’s Old Blue Willow Plates portrays Proctor’s grandma reaching out to her as a child to remove her shame and console her, assuring her of her unconditional love. The clothing of the two figures is rendered in shards of the broken chinoiserie dishware, veined with gold paint, kintsugi-like—a metaphor for repair. Centered at the top of the door, round and gleaming like a sun or a halo, is an intact plate. Below it two angels—one Black, one white—resembling the plate’s turtledoves, swoop in and support the title Proctor has given this sacred memory.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Story of Grandma’s Old Blue Willow Plates, 1997. House paint, acrylic, liquid nails, Blue Willow plates, and hot glue on door. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), My Grandma’s Old Blue Willow, 2004. Acrylic, spray paint, cut paper, cut metal, liquid nails, Blue Willow plates, and hot glue on window. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
Memories of her grandma, and her grandma’s wisdom sayings, feature in much of Proctor’s work. One painting enumerates eleven “things my old grandmoma told me yesterday [that] holds me today,” such as “Tell you bussiness to God” and “Every body that smile in your face ain’t your friend.” One proverb her grandma would regularly recite is “You can take a mule to the water but you can’t make the sucker drink,” teaching her that we can offer help to other people but ultimately can’t control their choices.
Left to right: Story of Grandma’s Old Blue Willow Plates, 1997; My Grandpa Old Overalls, 1995; The Things My Old Grandmomma, 1995
Proctor dropped out of school in ninth grade and, after escaping an abusive relationship, married Tyrone Proctor in 1980. She worked as a nurse’s aide until a nerve injury made the job unfeasible, at which point she pivoted to collecting and selling miscellaneous objects for a living.
In January 1994, tragedy struck when Proctor’s grandmother, aunt, and uncle died in a house fire. Proctor was traumatized by seeing the charred bodies removed from the wreckage, and she sunk into a depression. She wrestled with God and even considered suicide.
“The most beautiful personality you ever seen was my grandma. She loved everybody,” Proctor tells. “And I was like, what happened to my grandmother? I mean, why, Lord, why did you allow her to go? That’s my best friend. I was wondering why such a woman had to go like that. Why did it happen?”
While she didn’t receive an answer to that question, she did receive a new direction for her life. In February 1995, while praying and fasting, God spoke to her, telling her to “paint the door.” Not quite sure what he meant, she grabbed three detached doors that she had in her yard and painted the likenesses of her family members on them. This was the beginning of her healing process and her career as a folk artist.
Proctor was already used to salvaging things, from dumpsters and roadsides, that others deemed trash, and making good purchases at flea markets. Now instead of cleaning them up to sell or resell in their current forms, she found uses for them in her art making, and started saving other discarded items as well. Buttons, beads, shells, nails, coins, mirrors, sticks, Spanish moss, coffee cans, toys, shoes, pails, patches of cloth—any of these are worthy art materials for her, along with her go-to house paint. With them, she embellishes doors of all sizes and other types of discarded wood, which she’ll often cut into shapes that suit her.
For her, the reclamation of cast-off things reflects God’s redeeming work in our own lives—how he rescues, restores, mends. This work of mending was also modeled by her grandma, who, rather than throwing out old clothes with missing buttons or tears, would lovingly fix them up. “When I was a child,” Proctor reminisces, “my grandma would keep all her old button[s] in a jar. She would keep em there to mend our cloth. When one fell of[f] she would mend on another. Now we all need to be mended like Gram mend them old button[s]. Mend us all, Lord. Mend us all.” Two doors tell this story, showing Gram handing a young Proctor a mended garment or a jar of buttons, the two figures themselves constituted of buttons. In the wispy blue background, angels shower yellow flower petals over the scene, a rain of mercy.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Mend Us All, 2003. Acrylic, liquid nails, spray paint, house paint, buttons, and hot glue on door. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), The Story of Grandma’s Old Buttons, n.d. House paint, acrylic, buttons, liquid nails, mason jar, and hot glue on door. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
Black women are Proctor’s most frequently depicted subject, whether herself, specific relatives, or more generic women. Her most iconic image type, which exists in many variations, is of a Black woman looking and reaching up, signifying trust in God. For these, she often cuts her substrate into a narrow vertical orientation, emphasizing the seeking of things above, a stretching toward the heavens. Her husband calls her paintings in this format “slims.” Two such slims counsel women to walk by faith, per 2 Corinthians 5:7, and to practice self-love.
Another, much larger slim, approximately life-size, insists on the salubrious impact of art making. “Creation heals the body, mind, and soul,” it reads. “Every day I look up and pray and say, ‘Lord, what can I create today to show a little sunshine, a little hope, a little mercy, a little joy, a little grace.’ In these dark times as these, let this little light shine”—the latter phrase a reference to Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount (see Matt. 5:14–16). Lit by the Spirit, by whose power she shares the gospel, Proctor prays that her art will benefit not only herself but all those who encounter it.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Creation Heals the Body, Mind, and Soul, 2012. Paintbrushes, house paint, and liquid nails on door. Courtesy of Drs. Dahlia Hirsch and Barry Wohl.
When she makes art, she says, she feels free, like a butterfly.
It’s a feeling that’s well captured in It’s a Woman’s World, an unironically titled painting that revels in the abundant life Jesus came to give both sexes (John 10:10), all us descendants of Adam and Eve. The painting shows four Black women in beaded jumpers leaping impossibly wide in the air, their arms outstretched, hearts floating.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), It’s a Woman’s World, n.d. Acrylic, spray paint, and beads on Masonite panel. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
In the article “From Zora Neale to Missionary Mary: Womanist Aesthetics of Faith and Freedom,”Ada C. M. Thomas identifies the womanist (Black feminist) theology expressed in Proctor’s art, which “celebrates Black women as bold, audacious, and determined to embrace their lived experiences”; her figures “embody a prideful yet humbled aesthetic. They are self-possessed and possessed by an intimate, activist faith. The women’s eyes are frequently cast upwards in hopefulness and anticipation.”
Indeed, Proctor considers it part of her mission “to get a message out to broken womens [sic], a message to help and glorify them,” she says. “I’m going to get a message out so men can search their hearts, learn to respect us and treat us the right way.”
She believes everyone is a child of God, and she wants her art to connect people to the hope, peace, joy, and love that’s accessible through him. She calls herself a missionary, often using that title in signatures of her name. “The Lord spoke, and he said, ‘You are on a mission to get a great message out into the houses and hearts,’” she testifies.
In Look and See the Angel Is You, by using a mirror as the face of the holy figure, Proctor preaches the imago Dei (image of God) in every person, encouraging viewers to recognize their inherent dignity and worth, imbued in them by their Creator.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Look and See the Angel Is You, n.d. Wood glue, spray paint, acrylic, beads, buttons, jewelry, and mirror on wood. Courtesy of Drs. Dahlia Hirsch and Barry Wohl.
In Every Child Was Born to Rise Up and Be Creative, she echoes the cultural mandate God gave to humans in the garden of Eden: to develop and rearrange the raw materials of creation for the flourishing of all. While not everyone is called to be an artist, we are all called to create.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Every Child Was Born to Rise Up and Be Creative, 2023. Acrylic, liquid nails, and paintbrushes on wood. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
We ought also to cultivate our own selves. Proctor often uses the metaphor—popular in the Middle Ages—of the soul as a garden in which we grow “flowers” of virtue. For example, a series of wood cutouts portrays women holding pails, with signs like “Let love live in my garden” and “Let grace live in my garden.” Another declares and beseeches, “I refuse to let hate live in my garden. Love, help me grow.”
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), I Refuse to Let the Hate Live in My Garden, 2022. Acrylic on cut wood. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
Besides vows and petitions, Proctor’s art also contains testimonies. In the Black church, testifying is a sacred tradition of sharing personal stories of survival, deliverance, and praise. Encouragement is a key component. One of Proctor’s painted testimonies reads, “It may seem dark at times, yet I hold on, I know the sun will shine.” She knows God will never forsake her, though he may occasionally seem absent.
Other paintings by Proctor mark milestones in her spiritual journey, such as her baptism in Lloyd Creek in 1975 at age fifteen. One such painting references the African American spiritual “Down by the Riverside,” its refrain about relinquishing hatred and violence—“Ain’t gonna study war no more”—taken from Isaiah 2:4 and Micah 4:3. Members of her Missionary Baptist church community gather round, dressed in white and golden robes. At the bottom center, two elders raise up Proctor’s arms as she emerges from the baptismal waters, cleansed and reborn.
Several pieces highlight Proctor’s whimsical sense of humor. It Ain’t Over Till the Fat Lady Sings God Bless America, a patriotic adaptation of a well-worn idiom, made me laugh. So did the adjacent painting, The Story of the Two Maxwell House Friends Mrs. Lilly and Mrs. Dilly, married to Willie and Billy; the women, Proctor narrates, would meet in Philly, get chilly (and so sip their coffee), and giggle about matters silly. Proctor affixed two teacups to the wood, giving the work three-dimensionality.
From left to right: When a Man Loves a Woman, 1997; It Ain’t Over Till the Fat Lady Sings God Bless America, 1996; The Story of Two Maxwell House Friends Mrs. Lilly and Mrs. Dilly, 1996; If the Cows Can Dance in Green Pastures, 2012; I Cry Unto Thee When My Heart Is Overwhelmed, 1995
A sense of delight infuses Proctor’s art. She’s attuned to the beauty of the ordinary, the sacramentality of the everyday. She identifies a spirit of joy and gratitude even in animal life. “Every day I pass the cows,” she writes in one painting. “In the sunshine or rain the cows dance. If the cows can dance in green pastures why can’t we?” Speckled and smiling, her cows bear signs that say “Enjoy life,” “Be content,” “It’s going to be fine.” Cattle are among those named as being part of the cosmic choir of creation in Psalm 148, praising the Lord—Proctor goes even further and imagines them dancing.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), If the Cows Can Dance in Green Pastures, 2012. Acrylic, house paint, liquid nails, and buttons on door. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
In the hallway outside the exhibition gallery, it’s a trio of women who dance. The central painting shows Proctor’s signature upward-gazing gal, in a fringed dress, opening her hands to receive divine love, symbolized by the red hearts that angels pass down to earth in one long chain. “It’s the love of God that makes the world go round,” Proctor preaches. “Pass the love from above.”
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Love Makes the World Go Round, 1997. House paint, acrylic, glass, ceramic, beads, and hot glue on wood. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
Flanking this painting are two wire sculptures of worshipping women who wear crosses and heart-shaped bangles inscribed with “Near the Cross” (the title of a popular hymn by Fanny Crosby) and psalmic phrases such as “Shout for joy,” “Rise up,” “Lead me,” “Shine on me,” and “My heart is glad.”
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Woman with Crosses, 1998. Copper wire, copper sheet metal, crosses, rebar, house paint, and cut wood. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Woman with Hearts, 1998. Copper wire, copper sheet metal, rebar, house paint, and cut wood. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
Proctor acknowledges that some may look at her art and see only messy pictures or rubbish. But paraphrasing the apostle Paul (1 Cor. 1:26–31), she says God uses foolish things—like scrap wood or twisted wire decorated with cheap paint and baubles—to confound the wise.
Shortly after getting married, Proctor moved to Tallahassee with her husband Tyrone, where they raised three sons and a daughter. They now live back in Lloyd but operate a small gallery in Tallahassee proper, where they sell Proctor’s work. Follow them on Instagram @marysvisions or on Facebook.
Don’t miss two more works by Mary Proctor that are on display in the third-floor café, each titled Music Heals the Body, Mind, and Soul. Made of mixed media on wood, they show a man with a guitar and a singing, dancing woman, and scattered across the backgrounds are sheet music fragments from a Christian hymnal.
Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Music Heals the Body, Mind, and Soul, 2000. Acrylic and found objects on wooden door. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.Mary L. Proctor (American, 1960–), Music Heals the Body, Mind, and Soul, 2000. Acrylic and found objects on wooden door. American Visionary Art Museum, Baltimore.
If you download the Bloomberg Connects mobile app and search “AVAM,” then select “The Strength to Be Joyful,” you can access seven audio interviews with artist Mary Proctor (transcripts included), which are tied to different displays in the exhibition. The exhibition also runs a video interview on loop.
But also, here’s a 2003 news segment shot with Proctor in the “art yard” outside her house:
And a more recent interview clip, from 2022, of Proctor talking about her grandmother’s importance in her life:
My roundups aren’t typically thematic, but in this one I’ve pulled together content around the Psalms—plus a link to my new monthly playlist, from which I call out particular psalms.
SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: June 2026 (Art & Theology): Most months of the year, I release a playlist of thirty songs, mostly by Christian artists—an assortment of psalms, hymns, and other spiritually inclined music. The psalm settings I feature this month are Psalm 10:1 for choir by the South Korean composer Jung Jae-il (known for his work on Parasite and Squid Game); “Psalm 55” by Poor Bishop Hooper (they’ve set all 150 songs from the Psalter!); Psalm 97:11 in Hebrew (“Light dawns for the righteous and joy for the upright in heart”) by the Jewish women’s a cappella ensemble Vocolot; Psalm 103:1, a new cover of Andraé Crouch’s “Bless His Holy Name” by Paul Zach, Jessica Fox, and IAMSON; Psalm 117, in English and Spanish and with Latin rhythms, by The Soil and The Seed Project (see below); a song by the indie singer-songwriter Sam Wilson that uses Psalm 119:103 as a refrain; and “Psalm 139” by the New Jersey–based DJ duo (and married couple) KNGDM REVIVAL.
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NEW ALBUM:Psalmsby The Soil and The Seed Project: Released last month, this double album contains thirty-four new songs and one re-release. The first disc consists of word-for-word settings of psalms using the NIV or NRSV translations—hence why the album is classified as part of their “Bible Memory Collection”—whereas the second disc comprises songs inspired by the Psalms—loose paraphrases and, more commonly, songs that talk to God in a psalmic vein, encompassing the same broad emotional range as the biblical Psalter. There are songs of praise and gratitude, of weariness and lament, as well as petitionary songs seeking rescue or direction, presence or protection, stillness or fruitfulness.
Here’s the bilingual Psalm 117 setting “Praise the LORD, All You Nations”—the shortest psalm and the shortest chapter in the entire Bible—by Seth Thomas Crissman and Jorge Eliecer Triana, sung by Nicolas Melas and Lauren Yoder. I’ve followed it with “Lord, I Get Grumpy” by Clara Weaver, which she sings with Nichole Barrows while, it sounds like, doing dishes! “Lord, I need your patience” is something I pray a lot; now I can sing it.
Led by my friend Seth Thomas Crissman (MDiv, Eastern Mennonite Seminary), The Soil and The Seed Project is more than just a songwriting collective; they create all kinds of “creative resources that help us together turn towards Jesus in the ordinary moments of life.” Their latest Psalms package includes, in addition to the album, coloring pages and a Little Liturgies booklet with responsive readings, reflection questions, and suggested activities, all written with children in mind. You can download all these resources for FREE from their website!
>> “Considering Lament: Psalms of Protest, Pain and Hope,” Presbyterian Church in Ireland: This video presents Considering Lament: Psalms of Protest, Pain and Hope, a suite of eight lament psalms composed in 2026 by David and Karen Campbell based on the experiences of victims and first responders to the Troubles, a violent ethno-nationalist-religious conflict in Northern Ireland that lasted from the late 1960s to 1998 but whose wounds are still felt. The suite grew out of a project conceived by the Peace and Reconciliation Panel of the Presbyterian Church in Ireland’s Council for Public Affairs, which involved Rev. Dr. Karen Campbell and her husband David convening Psalm study groups in eight locations across Northern Ireland over the course of two years. The stories, thoughts, and feelings shared in response to the eight given lament psalms—Psalms 5, 7, 39, 59, 64, 82, 109, and 140—and in relation to the sectarian traumas the participants have endured informed the Campbells’ musical adaptations of these psalms. Click on the link above for the song list.
The lament psalms, Campbell says, “provided vessels to channel all kinds of emotions – from disappointment, anger, betrayal and sorrow – without losing hope,” an avenue “to present our hurts before the One who knows what it means to experience pain . . . and grief.” The Considering Lament suite was recorded by local artists in a studio in South Armagh and is available for free streaming, and you can download an accompanying booklet that includes sheet music. It premiered March 26 at an evening of live worship (see video) that interwove the eight songs with painful stories told firsthand, with a liturgy to connect them and to guide worshippers in prayer and reflection around the theme of suffering and loss.
To learn more about the Considering Lament project, read this wonderful interview with Karen Campbell, conducted by Joan Huyser-Honig for the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship.
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HISTORICAL PSALTERS: Barberini Oriental 2 and Ethiopien d’Abbadie 105: As you know, I’m very interested in Christian material culture, and if a cultural object has an appealing aesthetic, all the better! Here are two psalters (a volume containing the biblical book of Psalms) I photographed at the Africa and Byzantium exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2023. The first, dated to somewhere between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, is a pentaglot (five-language) psalter from Dayr al-Suryan, a multicultural and multilinguistic monastic community in Egypt. From left to right in parallel columns are Ge‘ez, Syriac, Coptic, Arabic, Armenian, and Syriac again. This format would have facilitated comparative study of the Bible as well as common readings in the liturgy.
Pentaglot Psalter, Egypt, 12th–14th century (restored and rebound 1636). Ink on parchment, 14 1/2 × 11 × 2 3/4 in. (36.8 × 28 × 7 cm). Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Barb. Or. 2, fols. 2v–3r. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
Another psalter, from fifteenth-century Ethiopia, was open to a full-page illustration of King David, the author of many of the psalms, playing an Ethiopian box lyre called a begena, traditionally played by elite and royal men. He is shaded by an attendant with a ceremonial umbrella. In most countries at the time, it was common practice for artists to contextualize the Old and New Testament saints of the ancient Near East to their own culture. (Think, for example, of the contemporaneous Italian and Dutch Renaissance paintings.) This anonymous artist has signified “imperial ruler” by giving David the familiar trappings of an Ethiopian emperor. The manuscript would have been used by a priest or monk in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church in both his personal devotions and liturgical services.
David the Musician, from a psalter from Tigray, Ethiopia, 15th century. Ink and tempera on parchment, 11 7/8 × 8 1/4 in. (30 × 21 cm). Ethiopien d’Abbadie 105, fols. 13v–14r. Collection of the Académie des Sciences, Institut de France, on deposit at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones. [object record]
OLD HUNDRED is a famous hymn tune from the Genevan Psalter, so named because it came to be associated with William Kethe’s metrical paraphrase of Psalm 100, “All People That on Earth Do Dwell.” In her early poem “OLD HUNDRED,” written in the latter half of the 1960s, the African American poet Lucille Clifton (1936–2010) also engages with the Hundredth Psalm, interleaving its first line with the opening lyric of the spiritual “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” and blues-like phrases to create a multitextured expression of praise and lament.
Like the Psalter itself, life encompasses both gladness and sorrow. While many of the psalms call us to rejoice and give thanks, others express deep pain and questioning. The vocalist and composer Ruth Naomi Floyd says the greatest blues line ever written is Psalm 22:1, which Jesus “sings” from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Clifton had seen trouble; so had Jesus. (“Nobody knows but Jesus . . .”) And Jesus is a friend who stands with us in hardship, weathering it alongside. When God’s promises seem far off and we can’t muster a hallelujah, looking to Jesus can give us the strength, both to be honest about our trouble and to put it in God’s hands and so lay hold of joy. “OLD HUNDRED” wrestles through that.
Does this poem feel disjunctive or integrated? What do you make of Clifton’s use of all-caps? After reading the poem, read Psalm 100 and the lyrics to “Nobody Knows” and compare them. Consider how they both fit into the church’s repertoire of songs.
“OLD HUNDRED” can be found in Clifton’s Collected Poems, a volume I highly recommend.
With the feast of Pentecost coming up this Sunday, celebrating the gift of the Holy Spirit and the mission of the church, here are a few items of interest from around the web.
VISUAL COMMENTARIES: “The Risen Christ Appearing to the Disciples” by Victoria Emily Jones: This spring my latest exhibition for the Visual Commentary on Scripture was published, on Luke 24:36–49 and John 20:19–23, where Jesus appears to his frightened disciples after his resurrection, giving them peace, assurance, renewed purpose, and power. (In John’s telling of this episode, sometimes referred to as the Johannine Pentecost, Jesus breathes his Spirit onto them!) I selected and wrote about paintings by a medieval German artist, an Italian Renaissance artist, and a contemporary Indian artist that triangulate these parallel passages.
>> “O for a Thousand Tongues to Sing,” arr. Christopher M. Smith, performed by the MNU Heritage Choir: Smith arranged two stanzas of this Wesleyan hymn for the student choir he directs at MidAmerica Nazarene University in Olathe, Kansas. They perform the song inside the Bell Cultural Events Center, which has lines from the hymn inscribed on the walls.
>> “Citizen” by Philippa Hanna and Israel Houghton, performed with Moses Bliss
>> “For Your Gift of God the Spirit” by Margaret Clarkson (words) and Darwin Jordan (music), performed by musicians at Philpott Church in Hamilton, Ontario
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ARTICLE: “Vivid Spectrums of Color Radiate from Chris Wood’s Intricate Installations of Dichroic Glass” by Grace Ebert, Colossal: When I saw photos of this artwork by the Cambridgeshire-based light artist Chris Wood, with its prismatic colors and outward expansion, I thought of Pentecost—of the radiant gospel of Jesus Christ, from the launchpad of his resurrection and subsequent giving of his Spirit, going out to the world via and to various people groups, setting it ablaze. The artist says she was inspired by the logarithmic spiral of the nautilus shell. “We find in this a representation of how radiance can be embodied within us, as projected to those around us,” she says.
Chris Wood (British, 1954–), 40 × 40, 2022. Dichroic glass, diameter 160 cm. Commissioned by Clé de Peau Beauté.
40 × 40 was commissioned in 2022 by the Japanese luxury skincare and makeup brand Clé de Peau Beauté for its fortieth anniversary. The work comprises forty spirals, each made up of forty pieces of dichronic glass, each forty millimeters long.
“Dichroic is a material that is colorless, but it has an optical filter on it,” Wood explains. “So when light hits it, certain wavelengths, which are manifested as colors, reflect back, and the remaining wavelengths pass through, creating two colors. Those colors change depending on the angle and quality of the light and the viewpoint. It’s just the most eloquent description of the magic of light that I could find.”
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VIDEO: “The Lord’s Prayer: One Church, One Prayer”: ICF (International Christian Fellowship) Rotterdam-Noord, an intercultural church in the Netherlands, recently put together a video compilation of some of its members praying the Lord’s Prayer in their mother tongues; represented are English, Papiamentu, Dutch, Malayalam, Swahili, Arabic, Twi, Spanish, Tagalog, Chinese, and German.
Rotterdam is a diverse city, home to 170 different nationalities. In the neighborhoods ICF North serves, 70 percent of residents have a migrant background. Every Sunday the church, pastored by Fred Kappinga, offers an Arabic-Dutch service and an English-Dutch service, with translations into other languages when necessary and possible. They sing Christian worship songs from around the world and host guest preachers of various ethnicities.
Occurring forty days after Easter, Ascension Day is this Thursday, May 14, and will be celebrated by many churches on Sunday, honoring Jesus’s ascent to heaven. This historic event “represents both a conclusion and a commencement,” writes Ashley Tumlin Wallace: “Jesus finished his earthly work while setting into motion the gift of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the Church.” Below are a few items for the occasion.
QUOTE: “In the mystery of the Ascension we reflect on the way in which, in one sense, Christ ‘leaves’ us and is taken away into Heaven, but in another sense he is given to us and to the world in a new and more universal way. He is no longer located only in one physical space to the exclusion of all others. He is in the Heaven which is at the heart of all things now and is universally accessible to all who call upon Him. And since His humanity is taken into Heaven, our humanity belongs there too, and is in a sense already there with him. ‘For you have died,’ says St. Paul, ‘and your life is hidden with Christ in God.’ In the Ascension Christ’s glory is at once revealed and concealed, and so is ours.”—Malcolm Guite
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ARTICLE: “Ten Reasons to Celebrate Ascension Day” by John Witvliet, Reformed Worship: John Witvliet, senior scholar and professor of theology, worship, and the arts at Belmont University, answers the question “Why does Ascension Day matter?” He concludes with two book recommendations and some suggestions for corporate worship.
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ALBUM: Ascension Songs by Cardiphonia: This compilation album from 2012 features nineteen traditional hymns about Christ’s ascension, seventeen of which have been retuned by contemporary singer-songwriters and worship leaders. I featured one by Sarah Majorins back in 2019; here are two other favorites, the latter from the Sacred Harp tradition:
>> “Today Our Lord Went Up On High” | Words by Johann Zwick, 1542; trans. Catherine Winkworth, 1858 | Music by Rebekah Osborn, 2012
>> “Jesus, My All, to Heav’n Has Gone”| Words by John Cennick, 1743 | Music (NORTH PORT) by R. R. Osborne, 1850 | Arranged by Bruce Benedict, 2010
ORATORIO: Lobet Gott in seinen Reichen (Praise God in His Realms) by J. S. Bach: Known as the Ascension Oratorio, Bach’s BWV 11 was composed for the Feast of the Ascension almost three centuries ago. It is structured in eleven movements in two parts and runs about a half hour. Its libretto comprises some original texts (likely written by the German poet and Bach’s regular collaborator Picander) as well as quotations from the Bible and hymns by Johann Rist and Gottfried Wilhelm Sacer. It both mourns Christ’s bodily departure and extols his universal reign.
The oratorio’s closing chorale fantasia (starting at 25:48 in the video above) is often cited as one of many examples of Bach’s sophisticated expression of theology through music. The orchestra plays in D major while the chorus sings in B minor—“When shall it happen, / When will the dear time come, / That I shall see him / In his glory?”—conveying the human state of waiting and hoping for Christ’s return and the fulfillment of that hope. Both jaunty and full of longing, and harmonious between the two, movement 11 anticipates the day when we will be reunited with Christ in the flesh. Craig Smith writes,
The final chorale is an amazing tour de force. A verse set to the melody of the grave chorale “Von Gott will ich nicht lassen” is imbedded in the brilliant trumpet- and drum-dominated D Major texture of the orchestra. The B minor of the chorale never loses its identity but is simply swallowed up in the D Major. Bach understands the melancholy of being left behind, and profoundly includes it here in this ostensibly joyous festival.
The above performance from 2013 is by the Monteverdi Choir and English Baroque Soloists, conducted by John Eliot Gardiner. An English translation of the German lyrics is given as subtitles, but you can also follow along here.
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REFLECTION: “Let me go, because then the Spirit will come” by Jonathan Evens: Jonathan Evens, a vicar in the Church of England, shares the reflection he gave on Ascension Day at St Martin-in-the-Fields in London in 2020, which concludes with a verse-style meditation that I really like. Here’s the first stanza:
Touch me not. I am not yours to have and hold, in this shape in this form. Let go. Let me go. Let my Spirit come. Divine my Spirit, know me within.
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PAINTING: The Ascension, ca. 1340–50: Last fall while I was in Cologne, I visited the Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, which has an excellent collection of medieval German art. Here’s a lovely little Ascension painting I saw:
It’s from a small triptych made in the mid-fourteenth century in a Cologne workshop for a Poor Clares cloister in the city. The object would have been used by the nuns for private contemplation. Its central scene is the Crucifixion, and the wings portray, in addition to the Ascension: the Nativity, the Adoration of the Magi, and the Descent of the Holy Spirit.
Triptych with Depiction of the Outworking of God’s Plan for Salvation, Cologne, ca. 1340–50. Tempera on oak. Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, Cologne, Inv. 1. Photo: Victoria Emily Jones.
As is common in medieval paintings of the Ascension, that panel shows Jesus from the waist down, rising out of frame, leaving behind a set of footprints on the Mount of Olives. To me, that physical impression is a reminder of how Jesus, the God-man, has a body—he walked the earth in it, feeling dirt between his toes, and went to heaven with it, prefiguring the day when those who are in Christ will also, soul and body, join the Father in glory. That little mark on the mound, a negative space where Jesus’s weight once pressed, speaks both presence and absence. Ten days later, he’d send down his Spirit on the same gazing group, and many more besides, and their beautiful feet would carry the good news of his risen life far and wide.
PODCAST SERIES: Dissident Cinema Marathon, Filmspotting: Over the next two months, Filmspotting, my favorite film podcast, is running a marathon on the theme of politically dissident cinema, exploring six films that confront authoritarian power and state abuse. They come from the US, Italy, Japan, Greece, France, and Iran:
The Great Dictator (Chaplin, 1940) – Kanopy, HBO, Amazon Prime, Criterion Channel, etc.
Rome, Open City (Rossellini, 1945) – HBO
No Regrets for Our Youth (Kurosawa, 1946) – Criterion Channel
Z(Gavras, 1969) – HBO
The Sorrow and the Pity (Ophuls, 1969) – Kanopy, Kino Film Collection (free trial)
The first episode of the marathon aired May 4 (see below). It reviews Charlie Chaplin’s first true sound film, The Great Dictator, a political satire denouncing Hitler and Nazism. Chaplin stars as Adenoid Hynkel, the delusional, power-hungry, self-obsessed “phooey” (parody of Führer) of Tomainia. Chaplin started writing the script in fall 1938 and began filming it in September 1939; the movie was released in the US in October 1940. At a time when European nations were making concessions to Hitler and many Germans, swayed in part by his charisma and promises, were supporting his ultranationalist ideology, and others were simply conveniently ignoring him (Chaplin’s own adopted country was trying to maintain neutrality), Chaplin had the guts to call a spade a spade and openly mock the world leader and, in the character of a Jewish barber who’s mistaken for Hynkel, deliver a sincere and rousing speech against his fascist rule.
Chaplin realized, says cohost Josh Larsen [previously], that “it’s a crucial thing . . . calling out a dictator, whether it’s Hitler or someone we’re living with. You call him out as an idiot, because as a comedian, this is what Chaplin is going to be able to do: lampoon the inherent silliness . . . the puffery, the pageantry, the needing of arches and ballrooms and your face on every frickin’ thing everyone looks at. . . . It takes a comedian to spoof all of this self-important buffoonery that, to my mind, is really just an attempt to mask a lack of moral authority.” The movie contains one of cinema’s most memorable and prescient scenes: the demented globe dance, where Hynkel gracefully tosses, kicks, and balances a balloon globe, imagining a “pure Aryan world” with himself as a god.
To participate in the marathon, watch the films on your own (above, I shared the streaming services they’re on, but you might also see if DVDs are available at your local library), and listen to the podcast discussions that will be released one by one in the coming weeks on YouTube and your favorite podcast platform.
What do you remember most about the movie—what stands out for you?
What was a highlight for you, and what was a challenge?
What questions does the film raise for your own life or for the world as you see it?
And he suggests several more questions to consider as and after you watch.
This excerpt is published on the Substack Soul Telegram, which Norris and Higgins also jointly author. The second half comprises Norris’s reflections on Life Itself, a 2014 documentary about the famous film critic Roger Ebert.
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PODCAST EPISODE: “Songs for Public Faith, with Jon Guerra,”Conversing, February 10, 2026: “Singer-songwriter Jon Guerra [previously] joins Mark Labberton to explore devotional songwriting, public faith, and the tension between the kingdom of Jesus and American cultural power. Through music and reflection, Guerra considers how art can hold grief, courage, and hope together in turbulent times.” Guerra says he wants his music to help orient people to higher and longer and deeper things. He discusses his songs “American Gospel,” “Love Your Enemies,” “The Kingdom of Jesus,” and “Citizens” (last two embedded below).
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DOCUMENTARY: Listers: A Glimpse into Extreme Birdwatching (2025), dir. Owen Reiser: In 2024, twenty-something brothers Quentin and Owen Reiser, the latter a wildlife photographer, embarked on what birders call a “big year,” traveling the contiguous United States attempting to witness and identify as many bird species as possible, trying to beat the record of 751 birds. They undertook this challenge on a meager $16,000 budget (in contrast to most big year competitors, who spend hundreds of thousands of dollars), driving and sleeping in a Kia Sedona and eating mostly beans and canned tuna. Listers—a term describing birdwatchers who keep detailed records of the birds they encounter—is a documentary about the Reisers’ whimsical excursion, learning the ins and outs of birding by poring over field guides, calling rare bird hotlines, interviewing members of the birding community, and simply doing. The film alternates between high-resolution footage of the birds they observe and handheld camcorder footage of their other experiences on the road and in the wild. They delve into relevant controversies and debates, such as the playback of recorded bird calls to attract birds into view and the increasing gamification of birding through the citizen science app eBird.
But the film also encourages an appreciation of the beauty and variety of North American birds. It closes with an intertitle quote by the naturalist Kenn Kaufman, from his book Kingbird Highway: “As trivial as our listing pursuit may be, it gets us out there in the real world, paying attention, hopeful and awake. Any day could be a special day, and probably will be, if we just go out to look.”
The Reisers received distribution offers from Netflix, HBO, and Amazon but turned them all down, as they want Listers to be freely accessible to everyone. Watch the film here; trailer below. They also self-published their own field guide as a supplement.
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ARTICLE: “Lessons from the Hidden Vault of Thomas Kinkade” by Michael Wright: After Thomas Kinkade, the best-selling evangelical Christian “painter of light,” died of an overdose in 2012, his estranged family found a vault in his home containing hundreds of off-brand paintings he had made. Dark, moody, experimental—they are a far cry from the idyllic cottages that made him rich and famous. These previously unseen paintings are featured in the recent documentary Art for Everybody, directed by Miranda Yousef. (See trailer below.) Michael Wright shares some thoughts after seeing the film, which he says cultivated sympathy in him for Kinkade and the pressures he faced to be a “Good Christian Leader” and softened his harsh opinions of the artist into more complicated questions, such as “Why does an artist hide vital parts of himself for the sake of success? What happens when we curate branded versions of ourselves? Why do we continue to see this cycle of Christian leaders wrecking their lives? How can we imagine new social landscapes?” How can the market make room for an artist’s whole self?
Most of us grew up celebrating Easter Sunday like it was the finish line, the big, joyful mic drop: “He is risen!” But the church, historically, has never treated Easter as a single day. It’s a whole season—Eastertide, stretching fifty days from resurrection to Pentecost. Fifty days of practicing resurrection. Of sitting in the reality that new life doesn’t just burst forth . . . it unfolds.
And yet, many evangelical spaces move on by the next Sunday. Back to regular programming. Back to “what’s next.”
What if we didn’t rush past resurrection? What if we let joy linger? What if we made space for wonder, for doubt, for the slow work of becoming people shaped by an empty tomb?
Eastertide invites us to stay. To notice. To live like resurrection is still happening. Maybe that’s something worth recovering.
BLOG POSTS: “Rejoice Now!” by Sarah J. Biggs and “Exultet rolls: Celebrating the return of light” by Eleanor Jackson: These two posts from the British Library’s Medieval Manuscripts Blog contain overlapping content; the first (from 2013) is better for images, the second for text. “The medieval churches of Southern Italy maintained a very special Easter tradition,” writes curator Ellie Jackson. “They celebrated the Easter Vigil of Holy Saturday from a scroll made to be used once a year for this specific ritual. Known as Exultet rolls, these manuscripts combine words, music and pictures to create an enthralling multimedia experience centred on the joyful theme of light returning to the world.” Their name comes from the first word of the ancient proclamation sung by a deacon or priest during the blessing of the Paschal candle in the Roman Rite: “Exultet iam angelica turba caelum . . .” (Rejoice now, all you heavenly choirs of angels . . .) “Exsultent,” with an s, is a variant spelling.
A deacon reading the Exultet roll in church, from the Monte Cassino Exultet Roll, made at the Benedictine abbey of Monte Cassino in southern Italy, ca. 1075–80. London, British Library, Add MS 30337, membrane 11.
The British Library has one Exultet roll in its collection (Add MS 30337); learn more about it from either of these blog posts. Unfortunately, the full digitized manuscript file was among the thousand-plus lost in a massive cyberattack in October 2023, and it has not yet been rescanned, but select images can be viewed in low resolution in the posts. These images include a personification of Mother Earth and her abundance, a comparison of the Crossing of the Red Sea (the quintessential saving act in Israel’s history) to the Harrowing of Hell, bees gathering nectar (which accompanies words of gratitude to the bees that produced the wax of the Paschal candle), and more.
>> “Surrexit Christus” by Jacques Berthier: Kester Limner and Andy Myers perform a 1984 song from Taizé, an ecumenical monastic community in Burgundy, France. Its Latin refrain, “Surrexit Christus . . . Cantate Domino,” translates to “Christ is risen . . . Sing to the Lord!”
>> “Sing, Little Bird” by Dan Damon: In 2024, the California-based hymnist Dan Damon penned new lyrics to a traditional Ukrainian folk tune that I’m sure you’ll recognize. He writes,
The Ukrainian folk song SHCHEDRYK (lit. “bountiful evening”) is a shchedrivka, or New Year’s song, known in English as “The Little Swallow.” It tells of a swallow bringing good news for the coming year. Ukrainian composer Mykola Leontovych (1877–1921) arranged the folk song in 1916. Twenty years later, American composer Peter J. Wilhousky published his own lyrics for the song. His choral arrangement, “Carol of the Bells,” has become a standard in the Christmas repertoire. As I was working on a solo piano arrangement of this song, I got an idea for an Easter text that could be sung by a congregation. The swallow in the original folk song made me think of a little bird singing the good news of the resurrection.
“Sing, Little Bird” is the title song of his latest hymn collection that is forthcoming from Hope Publishing Company in July 2026. Another new Easter hymn that will be included is “Last night did Christ the Sun rise from the dark,” a setting of a ninth-century text by Sedulius Scottus that I featured last year; follow the link to listen to Damon’s demo.
>> “Gone” by Eldridge Fox: Teddy Huffam and the Gems, with pianist Anthony Burger, perform a classic Southern gospel song written by Eldrige Fox in 1972.
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VIRTUAL TOUR: Calvary Chapel, Biola University, La Mirada, California: Constructed in 1975, Biola University’s Calvary Chapel [previously] was completely renovated in summer 2018 to enhance the sense of the sacred in that space. Biola commissioned leading Danish artists Peter Brandes and Maja Lisa Engelhardt, a husband-wife team, to conceive and carry out a creative vision that would involve updated lighting, colors, flooring, and seating and the making of new art. The renovated chapel features thirty-two handcrafted stained glass windows by Brandes (integrating innovative LED illumination technology) and two large gilded sculptures by Engelhardt, all created around the central theme of the Resurrection. The focal point is a thirty-one-foot-long gold relief sculpture that depicts the resurrected Christ emerging from the tomb, radiant with glory.
Biola’s website offers a self-guided tour comprising six videos—one for each of the four wings, plus an intro and a conclusion—and photographs and descriptions of the art. I highly encourage you to explore this resource! Here’s the video for the “western wing” (the liturgical east end):
Maja Lisa Engelhardt (Danish, 1956–), Resurrection, 2018. Gilded plaster relief wall, 31 × 18 ft. Calvary Chapel, Biola University, La Mirada, California.Peter Brandes (Danish, 1944–2025), The Crucifixion of Christ, Supper at Emmaus, and The Resurrected Christ Encounters Mary Magdalene, 2018. Stained glass, Calvary Chapel, Biola University, La Mirada, California.
I really like the allusiveness of the altarpiece and the semiabstract style of the biblical scenes in the windows, which include the Sacrifice of Isaac, Elijah Raising the Widow’s Son, David Playing the Harp for King Saul, Cain Killing Abel, the Baptism of Christ, Nicodemus Visiting Christ, Christ in Gethsemane,the Crucifixion, the Eucharist, the Supper at Emmaus, Christ as the Sowing Farmer, and the Return of the Prodigal Son.
Art & Theology 
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