Because they could not fully understand his teachings, Jesus promised to send the Holy Spirit to teach and guide them in The Way.

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak on other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Acts 2:1-4

While those on whom the Spirit had descended were speaking in tongues, the disciple Peter stood up with the eleven and proclaimed to the crowd that this event was the fulfillment of the prophecy (I will pour out my spirit). 

So those who welcomed his message were baptized, and that day about three thousand persons were added. Acts 2:41

Each week at Chicago Community Mennonite Church, we gathered the Eastertide liturgy, thematically into Peace, Breaking Bread, Abundant Life, Forgiveness, Love, and Witnessing, followed by the message of Pentecost on June 12th. 

The Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, served as a visually unifying element for each Eastertide bulletin cover while the altars tended to flow a bit more freely.

Altars

May 22: Receive My Spirit (Altar by Naomi Pridjian)

May 29: Promise of the Holy Spirit / Communion Sunday (Altar by Jody Schmidt)

June 5: Ascension of the Lord (Altar by Antonia Kam / Photo by Merle Baker)

Pentecost Sunday • June 12, 2011:  Jubilant endnote  of the liturgical year featured the Bird of Paradise (flower) in imagery, candles, translucent layers of bright red fabric and candles, candles, candles. Pastor, Megan Ramer, delivered a beautiful meditation called, An Elemental Spirit. She closes with these lines:

We are shaped from dust,
enlivened by breath,
baptized in water,
and anointed with fire.

Earth and wind,
flame and sea.

The presence of these elements encourages me to look for God in the elemental.

A rushing wind and tongues of fire,
turkey feathers and tree roots.

God comes to us in these ways,
beckons to us through these original blessings,
speaks to us in the stuff of the cosmos.

© Megan M. Ramer

Bulletin Cover, Lectern Art and Altar: Naomi M. Pridjian © 2011

The Bulletin Cover

Lectern Art

The Altar

Our Peace lamp is lit each Sunday. On Pentecost the congregation was invited to express the sense of holy blessing and commitment to peace by placing lit votives in a dish of sand.

Top view of the altar.

Overview of all visual elements for Pentecost, 2011.

If you would like assistance in adding visual elements to your worship space, or have questions about doing so, you can contact me.

This year, Barbara Brown Taylor’s newest book,  An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, with its invitation to experience and acknowledge the sacred in the ordinary, caught the attention of my congregation: the little church at the edge of the city. Each of Taylor’s twelve chapters are presented as spiritual practices. We chose six and applied them to the six Lenten Sundays preceding Maundy Thursday and Good Friday:

Week 1 – The Practice of Waking Up to God: Vision
Week 2 – The Practice of Wearing Skin: Incarnation
Week 3 – The Practice of Getting Lost: Wilderness
Week 4 – The Practice of Living with Purpose: Vocation
Week 5 – The Practice of Feeling Pain: Breakthrough
Week 6 – The Practice of Being present to God: Prayer

It was a bit challenging to come up with visual art that communicated these concepts thematically in a simple and non-literal manner. I began with designing the bulletin covers in sepia tones as an earthy, grounding baseline.

We made good use of the Jim Croegaert song, Here by the Water, with its reference to rough stones laid down as altars in the river of life. From that came the acknowledgment of story-telling throughout the ages, so we invited the congregation to bring stones to a story campfire. Because we share sanctuary space with two other congregations, our visual thematic approach was simple and well contained in altar, lectern and campfire/altar.

The traditional Lenten purple was often paired with blue and variations of earth tones. (See Called by Name, February 10 and February 15 for details of the lectern start of this process.)

On the lectern hung a piece of worn burlap, a ring of gold and a length of purple, together symbolic of Jesus’ messianic ministry to the people. This lectern hanging remained the same throughout all six weeks, and changing appearance on Good Friday.

Altar, bulletin art and campfire correlated thematically each week, with  stones increasing in number through Good Friday.

While I provided the bulletin art, lectern hangings and four second hour, group discussion altars, responsibility for the major sanctuary altars rotated among three of us.

Week 1 • March 13
Vision: The Practice of Waking up to God.

(Wisdom is not gained by knowing what is right. Wisdom is gained by practicing what is right and noticing what happens when the practice succeeds and when it fails. Wise people do not have to be certain what they believe before they act. They are free to act, trusting that the practice itself will teach them what they need to know. (Chapter 1)

Vision Altar by Antonia Kam
Photo by Merle Baker

Week 2 • March  20
Incarnation: The Practice of Wearing Skin

(Wearing my skin is not a solitary practice, but one that brings me into communion with all those other embodied souls. It is what we have most in common with one another. (Chapter 3)

Incarnation Altar by Naomi
Photo by Merle Baker

Week 3 • March 27
Wilderness: The Practice of Getting Lost

(Once you leave the cow path, the unpredictable territory is full of life. You can no longer see where to put your feet. You must become aware of each step you take. Leaving the known path is a boon to your senses. (Chapter 5)

Wilderness/Getting Lost: Group Discussion Altar by Naomi

Wilderness Altar (and photo) by Jody Schmidt

 Detail

Week 4 • April 3
Vocation: The Practice of Living with Purpose   

(To be fully human means learning to turn my gratitude for being alive into some concrete common goal. Being gentle toward human weakness, practicing forgiveness for myself or other’s failures, learning to forget myself on a regular basis to attend to others…. (Chapter 7)

Vocation Altar by Naomi Pridjian
(Three glass containers: one with stones, one with sand, one with twigs. At the altar base, one candle amid broken pots and scattered stones.)

Week 5 • April 10                                                 
Breakthrough: The Practice of Feeling Pain

(Pain makes theologians of us all. Pain is one of the fastest routes to a no-frills encounter with the Holy. Pain can erase most of what you thought you knew about yourself. (Chapter 10)

Breakthrough Altar by Antonia Kam
Photo by Merle Baker

 Detail

Week 6 • April 17, Palm Sunday
Prayer: The Practice of Being Present to God.

(There are real things I can do, both in my body and in my mind, to put myself in the presence of God. God is not obliged to show up, but if God does, I will be ready. At the same time, I am aware that prayer is more than something I do. The longer I practice prayer, the more I think it is something that is always happening, like a radio wave that carries music through the air whether I tune in to it or not. (Chapter 11)

Prayer Altar by Naomi reflecting the start of Passion Week.
(The twelve candles above call to mind the twelve disciples; the calla lilly below references the holiness of the one to be crucified. To the left is the peace candle lit each Sunday morning. Alongside is a small table covered in black mourning cloth with a common candle amid the common stones. Beneath the altar are the palm branches brought up by the congregation. Our morning worship included the Liturgy of the Palms, Journey from Palms to Passion and the Liturgy of the Passion.)

Good Friday • April 22

Combined service with First Church of the Brethren, Chicago Community Mennonite Church and La Iglesia Cristiana Roca de Esperanza

Altar and bulletin art by Naomi

This Lenten season concluded with a simple supper on Maundy Thursday, followed by a Tenebrae service on Good Friday, April 22, 2011. If you would like to know more about this visual approach or would like to do something similar in your church next year,  please contact me.

We were all there—a chosen family: my partner, my daughter and our friend, who would in time become my adopted daughter.  It was a long ago…way before cancer, September 11 and the economic collapse—all unfolding from the year 2000 to the present. It was a time of prosperity—a time of dreaming dreams that money could buy as well as those it could not.

I have photos that spark memory of a lighter, happier time when we thought the moments we stood within might become bright future. Standing at the edge of one world, looking toward another was magical. We were big in our littleness…big because the sea was big, the beach was big, the sky was big…and we were part and parcel of it all.

Today, there are just two of us. My daughter has married and no longer lives nearby. Adopted daughter has passed to the other side. I ask her, “What is time like now?” There is no reply, only a flutter of feathery heartbeats that I like to think come from her, hovering overhead, whispering: “It’s great…all good…wait and see…you’ll love it!”

And so I wait. Like most persons of age, I have vivid memories of things past and they are often tinged with a warmth I can only call nostalgia. Fifteen years ago when I stood on this beach and dreamed eastward across the ocean, I had no notion of endings, only possibilities. I miss my little family as it was. I am standing still and waiting for what comes next because it’s not over until it’s over…n’est-ce pas?

“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the LORD shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD. His delight shall be in the fear of the LORD. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea. On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.” Isaiah 11:1-10

Many Christian denominations follow the liturgical calendar, which begins with the first Sunday of Advent and ends on the eve of the next. For those denominations, Year A of the Revised Common Lectionary began on November 28th. Each liturgical year…A, B and C…begins with Advent and includes Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and the Season after Pentecost, commonly referred to as ordinary time.

This year the Advent committee at my church chose to work thematically with a watchful awareness of time, inviting us to step back in meditation and quiet reflection, and to step forward into the vastness of God’s time. Watchfulness being a dramatic openness to grace and to a future created by God rather than by ourselves, this is what it means to be awake, alive and alert for the gifts given and for those yet to be received.

I was asked to provide visual enhancement in a liturgical installation. Like many very, very, old churches, our sanctuary has been whittled down from its former glory to perfunctory functionality. Architectural warmth and charm is absent, so any visual art effort may, by necessity, become a major installation. I began work on the project in October and finished a few days before Thanksgiving. Somewhere in those two months, I added an installation for my daughter’s church as well…I was busy, to say the least. Perhaps a bit far-reaching, but it all worked out fine and I am still breathing.

I began the project with 6 images, beginning with Advent 1-4 and ending with Christmas and Epiphany Sunday. These were hung on the sanctuary wall behind the altar and printed on our Sunday bulletin covers as well.

The altar is adorned with handmade, 4-inch wide ribbons complementary to the thematic images on the wall behind. The Advent candles and Christ candle are all 3 inches in diameter. In the altar’s crevice lies a globe. Greens are simple and discreet leaving room for the Poinsettias that will be added at Christmas.

This is the view from the balcony. A long piece of blue satin hangs on the wall above the 6 images. Lighting in the church is poor and I am not a photographer, so the little sparkles in the cloth don’t show up here. Too bad about that. Please use your imagination. The lectern (our pulpit) is front and center. To the left is our peace lamp and communion table. The drums at the far left are used by another congregation in the afternoon.

From the front of the lectern, a lacy, gold star ring hangs with coordinating ribbons hanging freely on either side.

In the south corner we hung the 4 Isaiah pieces I’d done in 2008, along with our signature hand-crafted cross. Left to right: Isaiah 9:2, 6 & 7

We also hung last year’s Advent-Epiphany art in the balcony along with my favorite: YHWH with peace bird. The stained glass window—a remnant of the building’s former glory—can be seen at the back of the balcony. Alas…would that it could be up front, but I work with what I have and where I find myself. (Thanks be to God.)

I mentioned having added my daughter’s little church to my Advent installations…this is what we did there…a simple but elegant offering.

Each week has a different center image to be hung on the frame and also printed on the bulletin covers.

Blessings of this holy season to you and yours. Thank you for visiting. If you are interested in prints of any of this art, would like something like this in your church, or would just like to know more about the installation itself, please contact me.

Then I met him one Sunday in church, spoke to him and knew that this young man, bound to a wheelchair and barely able to control his muscles, was the truly meek, transparently sincere, guileless person Jesus spoke about on the Sermon on the Mount. He knew God in a special way, just as I had a year or so before during my illness. I am drawn to such persons and found his website, God’s Eye Art,  filled with many lovely paintings—just as straightforward, open and enchanting as any I’d seen in the art-world I had recently left behind. This fellow was selling his work and making a bit of an income. That was impressive. I was ready to buy Crucifix II (see below), but it had already been sold. I asked for and received permission to use a copy of it for the Lenten season at the church. Although I am no longer at this church, this painting of the crucified Jesus by an Anabaptist follower of Jesus, remains in my heart. I keep a small copy on my bedroom wall. It is powerful in it’s humble presentation.

These are some of my favorite paintings. Notice the God’s eye in the corner of some of them and please take a look at Chad’s site. I don’t know what his situation is at present, whether he is still able to paint or not, but from the work I have seen, I believe he is a true artist—the real McCoy.

Crucifix II, ©2001 Chad Friesen,
acrylic, 12 x 9 inches

 
 
 

Resurrection Morning, ©2005, Chad Friesen,
acrylic & Mixed Media, 26x31 inches

Rose of Sharon, ©2001, Chad Friesen,
acrylic, 26.5x20 inches

To Dance Free, ©2003, Chad Freisen,
acrylic 22x26 inches

Thank you.

The flood of memories includes the people I have known who have succumbed to this cancer beast. There are many, and they are all in my cancer prayer-book. Way before I had personal knowledge of this disease…during those years when I was certain that because I was a vegetarian and lived a holistic lifestyle, I would never be a host for the beast myself…I came across the work of a photographer, which I liked very much. His name was John Mahtesian, an Armenian  with a story, partly sad and partly joyous. He was like me—a late bloomer and one among many.

I was putting together the exhibition, Inheritance: Art and Images Beyond a Silenced Genocide and asked him if he would consent to participate. He was delighted and immediately agreed. I had no way of knowing then that his mysterious aches and pains, moods and doctor visits were cancer related. I had no way of knowing that I was giving this talented man his last showing. I had no way of knowing because I was so sure it would never happen to me, that I blocked this disease out of my awareness. It was a dark thing that only people with bad luck and pent up anger would get. I am chagrined to even admit this, but it is true. Despite my niece having died of cancer years before, and my sister having recently survived of lymphoma, I was ignorant and arrogant.

In March of 2002, the exhibition opened in a Chicago gallery. All the participating artists were there for the opening reception…all but John. He died a short while before the big day. It was an incomprehensible loss to me. His nephew came from Los Angeles to represent him and that was a comfort, but the man who saw my heritage and presented it to me so beautifully was gone.

John devoted many years to his aging parents and didn’t marry until his middle years. His marriage ended with the sudden death of his beloved wife. He was a practicing photographer all the while, but I don’t think he really had the time or the luck to take on the art world as a soloist. He was one of many—little known—but so very talented with much to tell us about the Armenian people through the lens of his camera. This is one of his best known pictures. I am pleased to show it to you in his memory, and for his life, well lived and remembered here.

Central Market, Yerevan, by John Mahtesian, 1979.

Journeys: Photographs by John Mahtesian, 2000, is available in hardcover from amazon.com

The black and white covers debuted with this celtic, triquetra knot and  interlaced circle for Trinity Sunday, the First Sunday following Pentecost: Ordinary Time—the time that isn’t Advent/Christmas, Lent/Easter/Pentecost. Of course there is really nothing terribly ordinary about time. It ticks away, regardless of what we may be up to, but when thought of in this way…ordinary…could be an apt term, except that now, as promised, we have been given the Advocate, the Comforter, the Holy Spirit.

The calendar year begins with January 1, but the liturgical year…the church year…begins with Advent.

The interlocking circles on the June 6th cover, the Second Sunday after Pentecost, are enclosed with the following: God is within all things but not enclosed • God is above all things but not aloof • God is below all things but not debased • God is outside all things but not excluded.

The design for June 13th, the Third Sunday after Pentecost, is a graphic version of the famous labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral in France. A labyrinth is not a maze or a puzzle. It is meant to be walked in meditation. Following the path, step by step, one reaches the center and can linger there before setting out on the outward path. No one gets lost, only found.

June 20th, the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost—Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time. Although the Mennonite denomination doesn’t celebrate Father’s Day as such, I wanted to acknowledge the many good men who do their best to be good parents. There are quite a lot of these in my congregation.  The dove of peace in the center of the circle is surrounded  with a sunburst of glory, like the spokes of a wheel.

For June 27—Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, I chose to use The Jerusalem Cross—a symbol of the Holy Land and similar to the Armenian cross of my ancestors.

If you would like something different for your church bulletin, whether black and white or full color, perhaps I can provide it.   Please contact me here.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He guides me in right paths, for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest  valley,  I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.  NRSV

In the early 2000′s I was totally immersed in exploring the hills and valleys of my ancient, Armenian heritage. Seated at the crossroads of east/west trade, the Armenians have endured many episodes of oppression, persecution and genocide, and yet they survive. I believe this is due in large part to the culture’s religious foundation in the Armenian Apostolic Church, which predates Rome in becoming the first Christian nation in 301 AD.

During the World War I, the Armenians living under occupational, Ottoman rule, found themselves the subjects of the first genocide of the 20th century. An estimated 1.5 million were murdered in cities and towns, or starved to death on forced, desert marches by the Turkish government between the years, 1915-23. The Armenians left behind churches, homes, farms, shops, libraries, land, artifacts; many surviving children were subsequently orphaned. Among the artifacts inherited by the Turkish government were numerous stone crosses called, Khachkars, erected as memorials, some dating back to the 9th century. Extant Khachkars can be found today in several cemeteries and museums.

All images are available for purchase, signed by the artist.

Each image printed per order on heavyweight archival paper with archival ink.

Image size: 19.5 x 14.5 inches. Paper size: 22 x 17   •   Price: $45 each (plus shipping)

Place an order here

Imagine yourself standing at the shore, stepping out into the cool water and then sitting down for a while on the flat-topped rock. Think about anything you like. There are no mosquitos or no-seeums to bother you. Dream, pray, meditate, sing, talk to yourself—the whole river is yours for the time you sit here.

That is what I did today…not for hours…just minutes, but it helped me get through a challenging day. I do not recall where the original photo came from, who sent it to me or if it came from my own camera, but it didn’t look exactly like this at the outset. I have enhanced it to just the right sort of place I want to be today and I invite you to come join me anytime you need a few minutes away. Just put this in your memory bank and it’s yours anytime you like. I call this River Rocks. I even like the sound of the words….

And to whomever may have sent the original photo: Thank you so much!

For the past month I had been struggling with some personal issues of faith and didn’t feel particularly creative. In fact, I was feeling pretty dry, but I went to my canvas, which as a digital artist is my computer, and began to follow in faith. Verse 40 kept running through me, speaking to me, pleading with me to listen through the personal pain I was experiencing. This work became prayerful contemplation, and emerged a statement of faith, which I hung onto. I didn’t know if would work for the congregation, but it was all I had to offer that day. I put it in a large, glass, oval vase and placed it on the altar with a beautiful flowered cloth and a small, red candle. Beneath the altar, I placed a very tall, glass vase with stones and tall, willful, summer cone flowers from my garden. It was lovely as a whole, but alas, the artwork was just too small to be effective for those sitting in the chairs. It was an intimate offering and possibly more personal than I would have liked, but there I was and there it was.

It now sits on my personal altar at home, with the cloth and the candle. I like to look at it to be reminded of where I am placing my treasure.

Note: The center image, circa 1070, is an adaptation of a stained glass window from an Abbey on the borderland between France and Germany. I have woven the essence of the image into this Luke 12:40 piece.