“the first time i saw my mom make christmas, i was when ... child, a painting of mary and jesus by...

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who helped to bring He Qi to faith. During the Chinese Cultural Revolution, interred on a communal farm, He Qi was assigned to paint portraits of Chairman Mao. One night, looking through an old art magazine, He Qi found Madonna and Child, a painting of Mary and Jesus by the Italian Renaissance painter Raphael. Fatigued with the turbulent times and drawn to the peace of the painting, He Qi began painting copies of Madonna and Child each evening after he had finished his daily quota of Chairman Mao’s portraits. This exercise began He Qi’s search for the Christian message. Visual arts can point toward the divine, but usually they have more to do with the human condition. You can find images of Jesus looking like a Roman Emperor, for example, and sometimes rich patrons had images of themselves painted into nativity scenes. So the arts don’t define God. They don’t bring his truth or beauty or wisdom into existence. They do, however, contribute to a conversation about God. Part of my job as a docent leading tours at the museum is to invite people to look closely at art. What do you see when you look from this angle? I ask them. What do you see when you come up close? When you stand back a few feet? What do you think about what you see? What puzzles you? How does this change your thinking? And these are questions to take to the Gospel of Luke. Luke is good for Christmas because Luke shows close-up shots of the incarnation. Why, for example, does Luke’s story at first seem to be about the powerful Caesar Augustus who can command the Roman world, and then veer so quickly toward a young couple who don’t have enough influence to find a guest room? Why does the heavenly host appear to a few in the fields instead of to the throngs in the city? There in the stench of the stable, did Mary think about the song she had sung with Elizabeth—that all generations would call her blessed, that the Mighty One would do great things for her? Why was Herod so worried about a baby? How far is Nazareth from Bethlehem? What were the birthing practices Mary may have used? What were the customs of the shepherds? These questions can help you explore the earthiness of the incarnation. From the beginning, God has given visible signs of his invisible qualities. Through creation he shows his power and his beauty. He has used the rainbow and the ark and the mercy seat and theophanies and the glory of Solomon’s temple. But the writer of Hebrews describes the most marvelous visual: He (Jesus) is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. (Hebrews 1:3 ESV) The first time I saw my mom make Christmas, I was entranced. I put my fingers into the story, pushing this shepherd a little closer to the manger, moving the wise men further from the stable so they could journey, turning Mary and Joseph toward the baby. Jesus had come to earth; I was close to the story. As an adult, it’s been easier for me to pass by the Christmas drama. I’ve heard it and told it, after all, for decades. Each day at the Columbus Museum of Art, people glance at Reni’s Adoration of the Shepherds and then walk on by. They know this story, they think. They might appreciate Reni’s work more if they knew he painted on a wooden panel, that it was once part of a series of connected panels that told the larger story, that Reni’s work is among the last of the panels painted before the switch to canvas, and that Reni used a painstaking multi-layered oil paint technique, where one layer had to dry before the next was applied. If museum guests knew all this, they might take a closer look. It’s when I stop to think about the promise of Christmas in the Garden of Eden, about ABOVE Guido Reni’s Adoration of the Shepherds, Columbus Museum of Art, Ohio: Gift of the Hildreth Foundation in memory of Mr. and Mrs. Louis R. Hildreth, 1964.020. 9 8 When Christmas Comes by Phyllis Miller Swartz RBC ARTICLE BEACON | DECEMBER 2017 When I was three years old, I watched my mom make Christmas. She covered the floor of a wooden A-frame stable with bits of straw and set ceramic figures in place, Mary and Baby Jesus in the middle. Behind the stable she hung the black felt sky and then, one by one, touched her tongue to golden stars and pushed them into the sky. Last of all, she lit a small electric bulb. The stars glittered over the manger, and Christmas had come. And it came again each year when I heard my parents and teachers read in Luke about swaddling clothes and the manger and the shepherds keeping watch over the flocks in the fields and the glory of the Lord shining. I could see why Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The Gospel of Luke gave my mom visuals for the manger scene, and Luke gave me mental images each Christmas Eve as I tried to sleep so Christmas could come in the morning. Matthew says simply that Mary gave birth to a son named Jesus; Mark skips the nativity, and John says the Word became Flesh. But from the nativity to the ascension Luke gives pictures of Jesus: his feet wet with a woman’s tears, his praying a stone’s throw away from his friends, and his last meal of broiled fish with the disciples. Luke’s story of Jesus’ journey to his death is three times longer than the other gospel writers. Tradition holds that Luke was an artist as well as a physician and that he was the first to paint Mary holding Jesus in her arms. This may or may not be true. Regardless, Luke creates compelling and emotional scenes with his words, pictures for the mind. Ernest Renan, expert on Semitic languages, calls the Gospel of Luke the most beautiful book ever written, and the Greek Luke penned, probably on a papyrus roll, is some of the finest Greek in the New Testament. Like my mom, Luke wasn’t in Bethlehem when Jesus was born. And neither were the hosts of artists who since have tried to bring Christmas to us. The persecuted early Christians celebrated Christmas by painting Jesus on the catacomb walls. They painted him all wrapped up inside a wicker basket, usually in a cave, and often with an ox and a donkey because, as Isaiah says, the ox knows its master, the donkey its owner’s manger. Adoration of the Shepherds, an ornate painting of the nativity, hangs at the Columbus Museum of Art, where I lead tours. Museum guests often notice the chubby, winged angels that hover over the baby Jesus. Putti, these childlike angels are called. Guido Reni, the artist of Adoration of the Shepherds, uses the putti to symbolize the omnipresence of God. The sun shines on Jesus, and the adoring shepherds, hands on their hearts, seem oblivious that outside the stable window ominous clouds and shrouded figures gather. The shepherds also don’t notice that at the foot of the manger, a lamb appears to be more dead than sleeping. Hope, Reni shows, can be present, even in danger. Centuries later, the artist He Qi also paints the nativity. Both He Qi and Reni show shepherds and sheep. Both paint Mary bent over Jesus. Both show angels. But Reni’s painting is clearly old European art while He Qi uses electric colors, modern methods like cubism and abstraction, and Chinese techniques and design. Reni uses his geometric shapes to show that light has come to fracture the darkness. The longer I look at He Qi’s Nativity, the more I feel the vibrant glory of God come to earth—all the earth. When He Qi paints biblical scenes like Nativity, he tries to de-Westernize Christianity, to show that Jesus comes for the whole world. He makes Christmas for his people. It was an artist from another century and another culture ABOVE Christmas comes to the Miller house. “The first time I saw my mom make Christmas, I was entranced. I put my fingers into the story, pushing this shepherd a little closer to the manger, moving the wise men further from the stable so they could journey, turning Mary and Joseph toward the baby. Jesus had come to earth; I was close to the story." The shepherds also don’t notice that at the foot of the manger, a lamb appears to be more dead than sleeping. The arts don’t define God. They don’t bring his truth or beauty or wisdom into existence. They do, however, contribute to a conversation about God."

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who helped to bring He Qi to faith. During the Chinese Cultural Revolution, interred on a communal farm, He Qi was assigned to paint portraits of Chairman Mao. One night, looking through an old art magazine, He Qi found Madonna and Child, a painting of Mary and Jesus by the Italian Renaissance painter Raphael. Fatigued with the turbulent times and drawn to the peace of the painting, He Qi began painting copies of Madonna and Child each evening after he had finished his daily quota of Chairman Mao’s portraits. This exercise began He Qi’s search for the Christian message.

Visual arts can point toward the divine, but usually they have more to do with the human condition. You can find images of Jesus looking like a Roman Emperor, for example, and sometimes rich patrons had images of themselves painted into nativity scenes. So the arts don’t define God. They don’t bring his truth or beauty or wisdom into existence. They do, however, contribute to a conversation about God.

Part of my job as a docent leading tours at the museum is to invite people to look closely at art. What do you see when you look from this angle? I ask them. What do you see when you come up close? When you stand back a few feet? What do you think about what you see? What puzzles you? How does this change your thinking?

And these are questions to take to the Gospel of Luke. Luke is good for Christmas because Luke shows close-up shots of the incarnation. Why, for example, does Luke’s story at first seem to be about the powerful Caesar Augustus who can command the Roman world, and then veer so quickly toward a young couple who don’t have enough influence to find a guest room? Why does the heavenly host appear to a few in the fields instead of to the throngs in the city? There in the stench of the stable, did Mary think about the song she had sung with Elizabeth—that all generations would call her blessed, that the Mighty One would do great things for her? Why was Herod so worried about a baby? How far is Nazareth from Bethlehem? What were the birthing practices Mary may have used? What were the customs of the shepherds? These questions can help you explore the earthiness of the incarnation.

From the beginning, God has given visible signs of his invisible qualities. Through creation he shows his power and

his beauty. He has used the rainbow and the ark and the mercy seat and theophanies and the glory of Solomon’s temple. But the writer of Hebrews describes the most marvelous visual:

He (Jesus) is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. (Hebrews 1:3 ESV)

The first time I saw my mom make Christmas, I was entranced. I put my fingers into the story, pushing this shepherd a little closer to the manger, moving the wise men further from the stable so they could journey, turning Mary and Joseph toward the baby. Jesus had come to earth; I was close to the story. As an adult, it’s been easier for me to pass by the Christmas drama. I’ve heard it and told it, after all, for decades.

Each day at the Columbus Museum of Art, people glance at Reni’s Adoration of the Shepherds and then walk on by. They know this story, they think. They might appreciate Reni’s work more if they knew he painted on a wooden panel, that it was once part of a series of connected panels that told the larger story, that Reni’s work is among the last of the panels painted before the switch to canvas, and that Reni used a painstaking multi-layered oil paint technique, where one layer had to dry before the next was applied. If museum guests knew all this, they might take a closer look.

It’s when I stop to think about the promise of Christmas in the Garden of Eden, about

ABOVE Guido Reni’s Adoration of the Shepherds, Columbus Museum of Art, Ohio: Gift of the Hildreth Foundation in memory of Mr. and Mrs. Louis R. Hildreth, 1964.020.

98

When Christmas Comesby Phyllis Miller Swartz

R B C A R T I C L E

BEACON | DECEMBER 2017

When I was three years old, I watched my mom make Christmas. She covered the floor of a wooden A-frame stable with bits of straw and set ceramic figures in place, Mary and Baby Jesus in the middle. Behind the stable she hung the black felt sky and then, one by one, touched her tongue to golden stars and pushed them into the sky. Last of all, she lit a small electric bulb. The stars glittered over the manger, and Christmas had come.

And it came again each year when I heard my parents and teachers read in Luke about swaddling clothes and the manger and the shepherds keeping watch over the flocks in the fields and the glory of the Lord shining. I could see why Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.

The Gospel of Luke gave my mom visuals for the manger scene, and Luke gave me mental images each Christmas Eve as I tried to sleep so Christmas could come in the morning. Matthew says simply that Mary gave birth to a son named Jesus; Mark skips the nativity, and John says the Word became Flesh. But from the nativity to the ascension Luke gives pictures of Jesus: his feet wet with a woman’s tears, his praying a stone’s throw away from his friends, and his last meal of broiled fish with the disciples. Luke’s story of Jesus’ journey to his death is three times longer than the other gospel writers.

Tradition holds that Luke was an artist as well as a physician and that he was the first to paint Mary holding Jesus in her arms. This may or may not be true. Regardless, Luke creates compelling and emotional scenes with his words, pictures for the mind. Ernest Renan, expert

on Semitic languages, calls the Gospel of Luke the most beautiful book ever written, and the Greek Luke penned, probably on a papyrus roll, is some of the finest Greek in the New Testament.

Like my mom, Luke wasn’t in Bethlehem when Jesus was born. And neither were the hosts of artists who since have tried to bring Christmas to us. The persecuted early Christians celebrated Christmas by painting Jesus on the catacomb walls. They painted him all wrapped up inside a wicker basket, usually in a cave, and often with an ox and a donkey because, as Isaiah says, the ox knows its master, the donkey its owner’s manger.

Adoration of the Shepherds, an ornate painting of the nativity, hangs at the Columbus Museum of Art, where I lead tours. Museum guests often notice the chubby, winged angels that hover over the baby Jesus. Putti, these childlike angels are called. Guido Reni, the artist of Adoration of the Shepherds, uses the putti to symbolize the omnipresence of God. The sun shines on Jesus, and the adoring shepherds, hands on their hearts, seem oblivious that outside the stable window ominous clouds and shrouded figures gather. The shepherds also don’t notice that at the foot of the manger, a lamb appears to be more dead than sleeping. Hope, Reni shows, can be present, even in danger.

Centuries later, the artist He Qi also paints the nativity. Both He Qi and Reni show shepherds and sheep. Both paint Mary bent over Jesus. Both show angels. But Reni’s painting is clearly old European art while He Qi uses electric colors, modern methods like cubism and abstraction, and Chinese techniques and design. Reni uses his geometric shapes to show that light has come to fracture the darkness. The longer I look at He Qi’s Nativity, the more I feel the vibrant glory of God come to earth—all the earth. When He Qi paints biblical scenes like Nativity, he tries to de-Westernize Christianity, to show that Jesus comes for the whole world. He makes Christmas for his people.

It was an artist from another century and another culture

ABOVE Christmas comes to the Miller house.

“The first time I saw my mom make Christmas, I was

entranced. I put my fingers into the story, pushing this

shepherd a little closer to the manger, moving the wise

men further from the stable so they could journey,

turning Mary and Joseph toward the baby. Jesus had

come to earth; I was close to the story."

The shepherds also don’t notice that at the foot of the manger, a lamb appears to be more dead than sleeping.

“ The arts don’t define God. They

don’t bring his truth or beauty or wisdom into

existence. They do, however, contribute to a

conversation about God."

10 11

R B C A R T I C L E , C O N T .

BEACON | DECEMBER 2017DECEMBER 2017 | BEACON

the prophesies of Moses and Balaam and Isaiah and Micah, about the people who waited for centuries, about the angel appearing to Mary, about John’s recognition of Jesus, that I look a little closer. What exactly happened in Luke’s story? It’s when I read Jesus’ teachings about the kingdom among us now and the kingdom in heaven later that I can revel in the incarnation—by looking closely at Luke’s images, by being curious, by learning a little more each year. This is when Christmas comes.

Phyllis Swartz has taught preschoolers, inmates at a state prison (including a seminar on death row) gifted (high IQ) students, middle school, elementary school, college, and parents of preschoolers at risk. She holds a bachelor's degree from Antioch College, a master's degree in Educational Policy and Leadership with a specialization in curriculum development from The Ohio State University, and a certificate in gifted education from Ashland University.

Her passion is that the church engage people's minds with tools that match their minds so that they can see the richness and glory of God and the Bible. Visit her blog on learning and teaching at Apple to Apple at https://phyllismillerswartz.com/

R B C A R T I C L E , C O N T .

Each year as Christmas approaches, I ask God to show me something in his word that will keep the story of Jesus’ birth fresh and exciting. This year, my focus has landed on the shepherds and what it must have been like to hear the angels’ announcement. Luke 2:12 (NIV) stands out in particular, “This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

They were offered a sign. Of what? That the savior had been born. As if God understood that hearing the truth wasn’t going to be quite enough, he backed up the angels’ message with a sign. The shepherds checked out the information, and then told what had happened, leaving people amazed at their tale. Not nearly on the level of finding the savior of the world in the form of a baby, God has gave me a sign of His presence while I’ve pondered these things.

These days it is becoming harder and harder to keep track of things. Bottles, sippy cups, diaper bags, backpacks, socks, jackets, toothbrushes, blankies, my chocolate stash…my sanity. My friends and I joke that the illusive “black hole” swallows things up then randomly spits them out just to mess with us. Most things can be easily replaced or worked around, but when my wallet went missing a few weeks ago, you had better believe I turned the house upside down in my search. That particular item is not small in actual size or significance, so I was very thorough.

It went missing on a Wednesday and by Friday I was practically frantic. I had been keeping an eye on our checking account and credit card activity, so I knew no one had spent any of our money, which led me to believe it was still in my possession…somewhere. But I am usually the one to find lost things in our house, and I had literally looked everywhere I could think of several times. I ransacked (I mean “cleaned out”) the vehicles, looked in every room and toy box, dumped diaper bags, backpacks, and old purses I seldom use, emptied pockets even if I knew they were too small, moved furniture around, checked in the fridge, and finally began making phone calls to every place I had been and any individual I had seen over the last two days. My frenzy was taking a toll on my parenting, and I could tell my girls were picking up on my edginess, getting impatient with each other and desiring my attention. Then it dawned on me that I hadn’t even prayed!

Taking a couple calming breaths, I stepped outside for a

moment of quiet and prayed. “Lord, you transported yourself through walls when you appeared to your disciples. If I was absent-minded enough to leave my wallet lying somewhere, even if it is far from here, could you please transport it somewhere that I can find it easily?”

I don’t know why I prayed those words or made such a specific request. In fact, I often keep prayers for myself somewhat vague so I don’t have to deal with doubts if God doesn’t answer in the way I had asked—but that’s a topic for another time. I stepped back inside the door, took care of a few things for my girls and thought, “Ok. I prayed, I guess I’ll start looking.”

Going straight to the diaper bag I normally carry (the one I had already emptied three times in previous searches), I reached my hand in the central pocket, and pulled out my wallet! I’m not even kidding! I didn’t even have to dig.

Did I praise Jesus for this miraculous answer to my prayer? Nope. At least not immediately. I chastised myself for being so careless as to overlook something so obvious. It wasn’t until after I made sure everything was intact that I remembered to get my eyes off my own inadequacies and focus instead on God’s incomparable

capacity to do the (seemingly) impossible. I stood there dumbfounded, mentally thumbing through

all rational explanations, and coming to one coherent conclusion: I asked the impossible. He did it.

I quickly called Andrew to tell him the story. It helped to hear him say, “That’s awesome! I’ve got goose bumps. I believe you’ve just seen a miracle!” And when I called RBC next to tell the staff they didn’t need to keep an eye out anymore, Bethany Peachey said, “What? That’s amazing! Thank you, Jesus! Well, you’ve got another story to write for the Beacon.” Their simple acceptance of the facts built my faith and encouraged me to believe as well.

If the shepherds had rationalized or kept to themselves what they had seen and heard, they would not have done justice to the glory of God that night. It still sounds strange to say that my wallet was actually “transported” to my bag, but it was probably harder for the shepherds to believe the Messiah had been transported from heaven to a manger. I am so glad they chose to believe!

& HomeHeartC H R I S T A W O L F

BELIEVE IT OR NOT

H E A R T & H O M E

ABOVE He Qi’s Nativity. To see this and other He Qi works in color, visit www.heqiart.com.

EMPLOYMENT/MINISTRY OPPORTUNITIESPastor—Richfield, PennsylvaniaLauver Mennonite Church, Richfield, Pennsylvania is seeking a full-time lead pastor. This vibrant congregation is located in rural Juniata County, with a membership profile consisting of farmers, school teachers and businessmen and is a member of the Conservative Mennonite Conference. Responsibilities would include administration, ministering the Word, leading the congregation in Christian discipleship and community outreach and being a part of the leadership team. Interested persons may contact Elvin Ranck, elder chair at [email protected] or 717-363-1077 or 717-436-9142 for more information.

Executive Director—Brooksville, FloridaLakewood Retreat: Immediate full time opening for a resident Executive Director responsible for the year-round successful operation of a Christian camp and conference facility of Anabaptist tradition in west central Florida. For more information please visit our website at www.lakewoodretreat.org <http://www.lakewoodretreat.org/> . Deadline for submission of resumes is December 15, 2017. Contact: Mark Kennell, 941-376-1542

Campus Director—Phoenix, ArizonaAim Right Ministries is seeking a qualified individual to serve as Campus Director for its ministry in Phoenix, Arizona. Through Christ-centered discipleship Aim Right is dedicated to changing the trajectory of the lives of at-risk youth in the community. The Campus Director will plan, organize, staff, lead, and control campus operations to effectively fulfill the mission of Aim Right Ministries. For more information and a complete job description please contact Caleb Reed at [email protected].

Pastor—Hartville, OhioCornerstone Mennonite Church, Hartville, OH, seeks a qualified

person to serve as full time lead pastor. Candidates should be passionate persons of faith, with an interest in evangelism and with good people skills. For more information, contact Scott Miller, Search Committee Chair, at [email protected] or call the church at 330-877-1250.

Lead Pastor—Belleville, PennsylvaniaValley View Retirement Community is a Christian, not-for-profit retirement community located in Belleville, Pennsylvania. Valley View was founded by the local Mennonite Churches in 1965 and has grown over the years to become a full service retirement community offering nursing care, personal care and residential retirement living to over 400 residents on a 57-acre campus nestled in the heart of the scenic “Big Valley.” Valley View is a Parachurch Affiliate of the Conservative Mennonite Conference. We strive to provide services in a manner demonstrating Christian love and compassion and to minister to those we serve.We are seeking a Lead Pastor to direct and provide spiritual care to our residents, their family members, and our employees. Responsibilities include leading Sunday morning worship services and weekly Bible studies, conducting Memorial services and resident visitation and supervising the associate pastors. The successful candidate must be, or become within one year of employment, a credentialed minister of the Conservative Mennonite Conference. This is a full-time position reporting to the CEO.Interested candidates may submit their resume to: Kent Peachey, CEO, Valley View Retirement Community, 4702 East Main Street, Belleville, PA 17004 [email protected]: (717) 935-2105 x 1380, Fax: (717) 935-5109 Candidates may also apply online at www.vvrconline.org

N E W S & N O T E S