"If you see a great light, go stand in it," said my photography teacher. "Better yet get someone else to stand there and take their picture."
Light has fascinated me for decades, partly because it casts beautiful, striking patterns, and partly because it conjures the Holy. God is light, not darkness.
For many years, my fascination with light has drawn me toward translucent glass: St. Chapelle in Paris where even the crush of tourists cannot dim the beauty of the windows; Chagall's America Windows at the Chicago Art Institute, where doves of peace fly in a cobalt sky. (Images below.)
And Claremont Presbyterian commissioned a stunning display of faceted glass that dashes colored beams against the walls and, when the sun is right, down on the worshipers.
Along with your Sunday message, you can get a little awe.
At Claremont Pres, inch-thick chunks of glass were cut at angles to catch the light, a different and more dramatic display than created by traditional stained glass. They were the product of the Judson Studios in Los Angeles, which has been creating translucent beauty for 125 years. Their founder, William Lees Judson, was an important figure in the the early 20th Century Arts and Crafts movement that sought to rescue the modern world from the banality of the industrial age.
Like church windows have for centuries, the Judson creation told stories: about Christ and church history. Noah and his ark shine as do David, the humble shepherd king. So are Jesus' teachings, death resurrection, the disciples and their violent deaths.
Some of the church history is a bit too Eurocentric. What was conventional in 1964 is cringeworthy six decades later. The glass is frozen in time; the theology is not.
“Grace is not earned; it is freely given. A gift.”
The windows that grab me most are the narrow slats that seem particularly to play with the light. They are called "the means of grace" windows and remind us that we are loved by something much larger than we are, larger than we can imagine. Grace is not earned; it is freely given. A gift.
A gift, but not in ribbon-bound boxes. The gift is sometimes disguised. It needs to be recognized as a present, unwrapped, examined, sometimes studied. The faceted glass windows remind us that prayer, scripture study, fellowship, and service to humanity are also windows for us to understand divine gifts. One recently arrived for me.
These gifts bring us back to bathing in divine light. Go stand in it.
Meditate on that.
Historical footnote:
The windows were unveiled in 1965 along the the new sanctuary for what was then a rapidly growing congregation. The church appointed Claremont theologians William Brownlee, Jack Hutchison, Earnest Tune, and Jane Dempsey Douglass to develop the themes for the windows. They worked alongside the pastor, Kenneth McCandless.
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Pastor Karen Sapio has been preaching on themes drawn from the windows this summer.
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Our Friday morning online Centering Prayer meditation continues, 8 am Pacific time. You can join us by registering at Meditation Chapel or email me: charlestaylorkerchner@gmail.com.
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Photos: CTK
Chagall’s America Windows at the Chicago Art Institute. I’ve been transfixed by them for decades. Unfortunately, the museum moved the windows to an obscure location. Ask someone how to find them. It’s worth the effort.
Tourists in St. Chapelle in Paris. Always a mob scene. Pro-tip: come back at dusk for the concert.