Seeing the Mess Clearly

Seeing the Mess Clearly--August 25, 2017

"Some proclaim Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from goodwill. These proclaim Christ out of love, knowing that I have been put here for the defense of the gospel; the others proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely but intending to increase my suffering in my imprisonment. What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true; and in that I rejoice. Yes, and I will continue to rejoice...." [Philippians 1:15-18]

Let me tell you about one of my favorite paintings in the whole world. It is, I should also mention, painted by a fascist.

Let me back up for a moment.  What I am about to share with you is one of my favorite paintings of all time.  I have seen the original, where it is currently housed in Columbus, Ohio.  I have a print of it that for years graced our dining room.  And I have two postcard prints of it, also from the Museum gift shop, that are firmly taped to my two church office doors.  It was painted in 1943, and its title in English is "Sunflowers in the Windstorm."  Here, in this age of instantly available media, let me share it with you:

I could go on and on about what I love about it, from the color choices in the palette, to the composition that directs your attention first to the flowers, and then to the sky, and then off the canvas to see where the sunflowers face when the sun is not visible. I could talk about how much I love the swirls of color in the sky, and the way it feels both completely natural and also surreal to me.  I love the idea of a sign of hopefulness that endures through the worst storms of the world.   I could also tell you that this painting was the primary reason I ever first planted sunflowers by the side of our old garage years ago--an act of agriculture that was inspired by art.

But I should also tell you, as I began to say before, that the painter was Emil Nolde, a German-Danish painter of the first part of the 20th century, and that he was, quite literally, a fascist.  He was a member of the Danish version of the Nazi Party from the 1920s on, was baldly racist and anti-Semitic, even down to his views about whether Jewish people could paint as well Germanic peoples.  He was a literal card-carrying Nazi.

And I have to say that to you, first of all, because I have to deal with it myself.  Knowing that fact about the creator of this painting--something of such beauty and expression--also espoused views that are not only abhorrent (to me... to the millions of people who fought the Nazis and died to stop their quest for world domination... and to the Gospel of Christ), but also views which cost countless lives, both directly through the Holocaust and through the war itself, and then through those who have died in all these decades since at the hands of neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and other violent groups, well, knowing that about Nolde himself presents me with a conundrum. 

It comes in the form of a question. Is it possible to value, to appreciate, even to find joy in, a piece of art like this, a work of art which, to my knowledge, contains no trace of racism or Nazism or fascist content within the canvas itself (to my knowledge, sunflowers are not capable of hatred or violence), even though its creator held unconscionable, despicable views and was so deeply flawed?  Or, from the other side, is it possible to disregard or deny the beauty and inspiration I feel every time I look at this painting, because of the fact that its creator was unapologetically supportive of a despotic political movement built on naked bigotry that was responsible for the deaths of millions?  I don't know what to do, what to make of the fact, that something so wonderful came from the same mind, and heart, and hand that, when the time came to pick sides, eagerly and willingly picked the side of evil. 

It would be like discovering Voldemort from Harry Potter also wrote haiku, or that Darth Vader crocheted doilies in his spare time.  It would be like finding out your favorite song was written by a member of ISIS, or that your favorite movie director was actively involved in the KKK. I wish we were just talking about some hypothetical, because then we could always just say, "Well, this would never happen in real life.  Only 'good' people make beautiful things. End of story."  But here is Nolde's painting, a painting which has no Nazi propaganda or hatred in itself... and there is Nolde's life itself, with a heart sold out to hatred and scapegoating.

And then there is this second, bitterly ironic wrinkle to the story.  By the mid 1930s, Nolde's artwork was rejected by the Nazis as "degenerate," and more than a thousand of his works were taken down from displays and museums, and the Nazis forbade him from painting again... even in private.  He continued, even though he was officially forbidden, to paint in secret, but always in full violation of the Nazi decree.  It was during this time that his "Sunflowers in the Windstorm" was painted, making its very existence a crime in the eyes of the Reich.

What a mess.  What a complicated, convoluted mess. 

We wish for the world, for life, to be simple and straightforward, in black and white terms, with good and evil not only always clear, but separate and in their own corners.  And instead, here is a work of beauty--the painting--that is tangled up with a personality was both mired in bigotry and then who became a victim of that same bigotry. There is no way to peel away the scandal of the person from the beauty of the painting, as much as I might wish for a world where everything is cut and dry with "good guys" creating the masterpieces and "bad guys" doing only obviously rotten things while they twirl their mustaches while wearing their black hats.  And there is no way to dismiss the beauty of the artwork, just because it was painted by a person who joined the most wicked ideological movement of the 20th century.

The bottom line here, the irreducible, unresolvable remainder, is that it is possible for people who are infected with rottenness in the heart can yet be a part of the creation of something genuinely good, genuinely beautiful, even something truly wonderful.

That isn't to say that the rottenness isn't really rotten, or that the truly wicked bentness of the heart given into hatred and violence isn't--I'll use the big guns and say the S-word--sinful.  But it is, rather a testament to the infinite power of Mercy that God can create something compellingly beautiful even through hearts that are enmeshed in what is wicked.  It doesn't mean that Nolde's views were correct, or even acceptable, just because he could paint some lovely sunflowers; and for that matter, I imagine that he has now had to discover how wrong he was, standing before the face of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

But nevertheless, the power of Mercy is to create beauty and good, even through the most despicable and hateful hearts.  The extreme example I have to wrestle with in the life and art of Emil Nolde, an actual Nazi, compels me to admit that it is within the power of Grace still to work through people whose ideas and ideals I strongly oppose.  It is possible even for hearts deeply bent in on themselves to be used by God in the creation of something truly good... truly beautiful... even, dare I say it, truly of Christ.  Paul tells us as much in these verses from his letter to the Philippians, where he talks about other preachers who are spreading the Gospel with selfish motives.  He doesn't deny the rottenness in that.  He doesn't pretend that it's OK to be so bent in heart.  But neither does Paul deny that these people he deeply disagrees with are still being used to bring the beauty of Christ to people who need it.  There are folks who need to hear about the Reign of God. There are folks who need to know about the Love that will not let them go.  There are people who need to hear about the Way of Jesus, the possibility of forgiveness as a way of life, the announcement of blessing on the poor and the peacemakers.  And God can use even deeply selfish, deeply misguided souls who think they are only in it for themselves.

That also means it is possible to be used by Mercy for the sake of the Reign of God, even if you don't fully "get" it.  Selfish ambition isn't compatible with the Way of Jesus... and yet here is God using selfish, egocentric hearts to widen the beauty of the Kingdom and share the love and news of Christ.  God, it would seem, can use even deeply flawed hearts to create a masterpiece like the Kingdom--without condoning or ignoring the bent-ness in those hearts.  It's not that God winks away or shrugs off the wickedness in hearts.  It's that Mercy is just so powerful as to even be able to include the most rotten and crooked, in the creation of the masterpiece that is the Reign of God. 

Part of what this passage... and this painting... tell me, is that God is able to include and to work through people with whom I deeply disagree.  Not just on simple matter of taste, but even attitudes, beliefs, and views that seem deplorable.  It is possible that God can use people I find totally unworthy... people who also at the same time believe and do things I cannot support... and yet they can be used in the sharing of the relentless love of God.  That doesn't mean our convictions or beliefs don't matter.  It doesn't mean that God is "ok" with the selfishness, any more than the racial hatred and violence of Emil Nolde was "ok." But it means that Mercy is powerful enough to use even things, attitudes, and hearts that are opposed to the way of Mercy.  And it also gives me pause to consider that there may be places where I--despite the fact that, of course, I think that my beliefs are all correct--may be out of step with Christ.  I may well be wrong in lots of places I cannot recognize yet.  I may well be bent in my heart in ways that I do not perceive, but which God both says "No" to while also working in spite of.  And it means, too, that there may be others who name the name of Jesus who are way off base and do not see where their hearts are bent and out of sync with the way of Christ... and yet that God can include them in the work of spreading the gospel of grace.

So, for example, I will have to swallow my pride and acknowledge that...

...there are TV preachers and religious snake-oil salesmen I see or hear on the radio, whose version of the gospel is often distorted with promise of health and wealth, or full of hateful attitudes the preachers do not recognize are out of sync with Christ, can still be a way for God to reach someone with grace who was on the brink of despair and maybe only hears the Gospel for the first time as the background noise of a TV on in the other room.  I do not have to agree with the bad theology or selfish ambitions of the televangelists for God still to be able to use them.  For that matter, God doesn't even have to agree with their views still to reach someone... and then in time for that someone to grow and mature in love beyond the views of the slick, scheming televangelists.

...there are people whose politics are diametrically opposed to mine, who still can be used for Kingdom purposes, even if I do not recognize how God is doing it, and even if, deep down, the way of Christ is opposed to their views, too.  Atticus Finch, after all, had done right to defend an innocent man of color in To Kill A Mockingbird, even though the same Atticus has adopted despicable views in Go Set A Watchman. There are people who voted differently from you, and they may be way off from the values of Christ without seeing it, and they still are folded in to the Kingdom and can be used in the hands of Mercy to help create the Kingdom masterpiece.  And it is also true that there are others who look at you and your votes or attitudes or convictions and have a hard time imagining that Christ can use you while those attitudes are still in your heart. 

...it is still possible to believe what we believe, and to have good reasons for those beliefs, and yet for Mercy to reserve the right to use those who are convinced otherwise.  It is possible for God still to work through us, even where there are hatreds and bent places inside our hearts that we may not even be able to recognize (yet). We still are called to speak up and say NO to the things we are convinced are wrong, and we are still called to speak up FOR those who are victimized by others' hatreds or twisted thinking.  But while we are speaking up for what we are convinced is right, what is true, and what is of Christ, we will need to allow the possibility that God can even use folks we are convinced are dead set against the way of Christ. 

Today, then, we go out into the world still convinced of what we believe... but also allowing that the grip of Mercy is big enough to include people who don't get it.  We go out into the world able to say NO to the likes of Emil Nolde's fascism, but also able to say YES to the reality that there is beauty--genuine, undeniable beauty, in his painting, and that there is no such thing as a fascist sunflower.  We go out into the world able to articulate why we hold our particular convictions... but also aware that God is big enough that God can use people who hold views that are opposed to the values of God.  I will have to trust, in the famous words of the French theologian Teillhard de Chardin, "in the slow work of God" that can eventually get through to people I have written off as permanently despicable.  One never knows, after all, what it did to Emil Nolde and his perspective, to see the Nazis turn on him and condemn his life's work, and to discover what it felt like to be marginalized and cast out.

Today, go out into the world, and see the mess clearly, the beauty and the ugliness, where they are without dodging either.

Today, go out into the world, and look for beauty--for signs of the Reign of God--wherever you may find them. 

Even sunflowers in a windstorm.

Lord God, turn us all to you, and use even the things and hearts we thought were beyond the reach of your Mercy's power.