the Holy Family, then and now

"Rest on the Flight Into Egypt" by Aert de Gelder, c. 1690. MFA Boston 57.182.

Did you ever notice how paintings from the Renaissance and after often depict Bible characters in contemporary clothing? This Holy Family is lovely, but they sure resemble 1690s Dutch people too. Of course to us, images like this just look old-timey. Would a Holy Family in modern dress seem jarring?

At Midnight Mass I started imaging what a contemporary Nativity scene would look like. A parking garage would be a good stable equivalent - if you can't find a hotel room, you have to sleep in the car. There would have to be some stray cats running around, and the shepherds could be construction workers doing some night paving. Then the magi would be oil sheiks who fund science research, and would fly in from Bahrain on their private jet.

Welcome, baby Jesus!

Merry Christmas! I hope you have a wonderful celebration with people you love. 

There are going to be lots of "O Holy Night" diva moments in the next 24 hours, so here's a more understated song: "Welcome to Our World" by Chris Rice. I much prefer this original version's simple sincerity to Michael W. Smith's schmaltzy remake. The lyrics describe the Incarnation so beautifully.

Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born

So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy
Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God

Material Culture Alert: The man in the big red suit

Last week my class had the wonderful opportunity to take a short end-of-semester field trip to the Boston area.  Part of the time was spent in the Museum of Fine Arts' new Art of the Americas wing, which is absolutely glorious. I couldn't help noticing a common theme throughout the portraits : the red suit.  In the eighteenth century textiles were costly, and so clothing in portraits could show off one's gentility and status. I was amazed how many examples there were of men in an outfit that is today reserved for Santa Claus. 

Here's Nathanial Sparhawk, painted by John Singleton Copley in 1768. He was a successful merchant in Maine, but his house was nowhere near as grand as this backdrop.

 

John Singleton Copley also painted Samuel Adams in a red suit around 1772.

 

Across the pond in England, Thomas Gainsborough painted this portrait of hospital benefactor John Eld of Seighford Hall, Stafford in 1775.

Here's French artist JeanJacques Caffieri, painted by Swede Adolf Ulric Werftmuller in 1784.

 

The red suit persisted through several decades, as this1793 painting of Bostonians Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Russell by John Trumbull. Their arm-in-arm pose was the latest trend from England.

I wonder what portrait fads will look funny to future generations. Maybe jumping photos of entire wedding parties?

A Wacky English Christmas

Source

I finally finished that history paper after working on it several hours a day for a solid week. It was an uphill battle. To keep sane during my last late night session, I rewatched About a Boy on Netflix while I worked.The movie definitely grew on me the second time around, especially because it shared my hatred for terrible Christmas songs. In case you didn't remember either, Hugh Grant's character Will is a selfish bum living off the royalties from his dad's hit song "Santa's Super Sleigh." The song haunts Will throughout the film, including in a grocery store where he thinks:

"It can't be. November the sodding 19th... Six weeks before Christmas and already they were playing the bloody thing." 

Griping about Christmas music is so much more fun with British words!  Here's my favorite cheeky holiday song from another Hugh Grant movie, Love Actually. Brilliant!

Gaudete!

Today is Gaudete Sunday, when we light the pink candle and rejoice that Christmas is near. I for one am really excited to give some special people their presents! They are pretty great, if I do say so myself. I can't wait to see everyone's reactions.I'm also rejoicing because tonight my Dad helped me fix my computer after it had been attacked by spyware.

Another local parish, St. Mary Magdalene, has a tiered Advent wreath. (They are unfortunately also fond of banners, the art form that 1970s and 80s Catholics worshiped instead of statues.) 

I'm also warming up to listening to Christmas music. Here's The Cherry Tree Carol, a quirky Christmas ballad that I grew up hearing on the Peter, Paul, and Mary Christmas album. It's a 15th century tune that gets quite poignant about Joseph's confusion at Mary's pregnancy. I always thought asking for some fruit was a slightly awkward way to announce there's a baby on the way, but I hear snacks are pretty crucial when you are preggers. Either way, it's a sweet and lovely song.

"A nation so conceived and so dedicated"

"But, my dear Sebastian, you can't seriously believe it all..I mean about Christmas and the star and the three kings and the ox and the ass."
"Oh yes, I believe that, it's a lovely idea."
"But you can't believe things because they're lovely ideas."
"But I do. That's how I believe." - Brideshead Revisited, p. 87

Today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception, under which title Mary is the patroness of the United States. Ironically, I am up to my eyeballs in a paper about how the United States was founded by a bunch of rationalist, skeptic Deists. I seriously doubt they would be fans of the mystical, supernatural, and often-confused concept that Mary was free from original sin from the first moment of her life.Well, too bad, Thomas Jefferson. A bunch of Americans like that non-scientific, lovely idea very much.

I need to get back to my paper, so I'll leave you with this video encapsulating the religion/secularism debate that's been raging in America since the 1700s.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
The Blitzkrieg On Grinchitude - Atheist Billboard & Capitol Christmas Tree
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Museums in movies: When In Rome

Ever since I've seen the trailer for When in Rome, I've been curious about the fact that it stars Kristen Bell as a curator at the Guggenheim museum. Could a chick flick present the job accurately?. Now that it's on Netflix I figured I should give it a try and see how realistic Bell was as curator Beth. Here's what the film got right:

• The Guggenheim website lists 15 curators, not all of whom have PhDs, so its not entirely improbable that Beth could get an assistant position with just an M.A.(Although the film makes no comments on her credentials.)
• A major part of Beth's job involves extracting large donations from wealthy patrons on the board of trustees. 
• Beth seems quite familiar with the museum's permanent collection, and gives private tours to potential investors.  
• Beth fell in love with the Guggenheim visiting it as a child. If you ask any of my classmates they can tell you about fond childhood memories of museums or antiquing. 
• Beth's boss, a Miranda Priestly clone played by Anjelica Huston, wears statement jewelry and does not tolerate personal lives interfering in work. This uber-curator scowls at the prospect of Beth being out of town for her sister's wedding.
• Unlike her angelic sister, Beth has not been lucky in love, no doubt because her manic career goals in graduate school sapped her emotional energy and will to be normal. 

Okay, that's about it. Sadly, there's a lot more that doesn't make any sense. This character might as well be a journalist or fashion designer or other generic chick flick job.

• Despite her low ranking position, Beth makes enough money for a sizable Manhattan apartment. So does her suitor, who works in the even more financially doomed field of print media. 
• Beth doesn't believe in magic, despite that fact that she has her dream job at the museum she loved as a child. Don't make me hurt you, blonde girl. 
• Beth does curate an exhibition, but her job really seems to be more event planning than scholarship. Why the heck is she assembling gala programs at her home? That's the development department's job! I also doubt anyone would think 3Oh!3 songs as the soundtrack to an exhibit opening is a good idea .
• For someone with at least an M.A. in art history, Beth seems pretty oblivious about Europe. In her staff meeting, she has to specify that her sister's warp speed wedding will occur in Rome, Italy. (So... not the one in Texas?) The fact that the Guggenheim has a branch in Venice makes this really inexcusable.
• To make matters worse, once she gets herself off a plane and into a Roman taxi, Beth takes no interest in scenic views of architecture or statuary. PUH-LEASE. Even my most iPhone addicted colleagues would stop checking email to, I dunno, gawk at the art they have chosen as their life's work. 

 So, you're probably thinking, whatever Sarah, is this still a fun movie? Um no. It's horrible. It's an accidental satire of romantic comedies. Characters say lines like "He didn't really love you, he was just under a magic spell!"; "I just realized I love Nick more than my job!"; and in the "I love you" reveal - "No, no, you go ahead and say it." Just when I thought things might not be completely predictable, there were both a race through traffic at a critical moment and a runaway bride. What, you didn't have time for someone to dash through an airport?

In the end, I decided to enjoy When In Rome by accepting it as a total slapstick farce, kind of like a really bad Marx brothers movie. After all, Beth's four magic fountain stalkers are like a Chico and three Harpos. Also, the scenes in Italy are about as authentic as this number from the Marx's A Night at the Opera. Hmm, the Marx brothers at the Guggenheim - now there's an exhibit I would curate.

A Kiss from God

Happy Second Sunday of Advent! My local church, St. Joseph on the Brandywine,  is doing a nifty banner/candle wreath thing this year.

Of course, now that I'm about to leave Delaware in 6 months, I'm finally getting connected to the parish. I've introduced myself to the pastor, and on Saturday I attended a morning advent retreat.  It was just what I needed. Not only did I get to meet some very nice parishioners, I learned about Salesian spirituality.  I have a more Vincentian background, thanks to my service year, and I've never really understood what all the fuss was about St. Francis de Sales. Turns out he's kind of awesome and not stodgy at all. In fact, he combated the Jansenist heresy and its hatred of human nature.

I especially liked one St. Francis de Sales quote that the priest shared:

The Incarnation is God's kiss to the world. 

It's a lovely thought, but that statement's implications are deeper than just sentimentality. A kiss implies love and spontaneous affection.   A kiss can also signify forgiveness and reconciliation. Between parents and children, it's a sign of trust and protection. It also means wordless communication, and a strong physical connection, and that's exactly what Jesus' incarnation was. God loved us so much, he wanted to physically, tangibly show us, and so He took on our image and likeness. St. Francis de Sales believed that this would have happened even if Christ didn't need to save us from original sin.

You don't even know

So yesterday a professor had us over to her house for an end-of-semester shindig. Not only did she not make us talk about syllabus additions, she also provided tons of food - ham salad, cookies, tea in adorable tea pots, even GF biscuits and chocolate cake. A+, Professor H. I'm always touched when professors act like they want to spend time with their students and are interested in their lives. Prof. H especially wanted to hear all about us girls' love lives, which was fun. 

Everyone hung around for hours, long enough to quit talking about next year's courses and start telling interesting stories. Since my volunteer year was the last time I did anything uniquely exciting, I kept referring to that. When I started out "So my house in St. Louis was a former convent next to a school..." I saw Prof. H's religious-historian eyes get wide. Oh, Prof. H, you don't even know. 

You don't even know what hard, fun work it is for 8 strangers to live in a former convent and try to create a modern spiritual community together. You have no idea how it was the most adventurous, challenging, weird, random year of my life, and how I am still figuring out what it all meant. In fact, yesterday was the first time I've been able to talk about one my negative experiences that year and not relive its emotional impact. I miss the service focus my life had then, and I'm still not sure how to stay connected to that as a grad student.

What's really crazy about living in a former convent with 7 strangers-turned-friends is that you are just one year of the house's life. Other groups will keep making new histories after you're gone, and you'll never really know how their community functioned. The groups that came before you have left all sorts of random stuff lying around and you have no idea what it means. At your moment in the house, you just make the best of what you can find. 

Like making an Advent wreath out of plastic greens and candles stuck in sand-filled shot glasses. I don't think God minded.