Hello, St. Mary’s! Kelley here.
Last month, our church turned eight, and our custom is to have someone in the community make an art piece to reflect on the past year. When Fr. Danny asked me if I’d be interested in creating something, I thought of a lot of ideas: most of them complicated, admittedly few of them particularly relevant to the purpose of this commission! So I mulled them over and prayed for the following weeks, nothing really rising to the surface.
But one afternoon, I was sitting on the back porch at Humphreys Street reading Serene Jones’ Trauma and Grace: Theology in a Ruptured World. In one of the chapters, she works with a story found at the end of the Gospel of Luke (You can read it in Luke 24:28-43). In this series of events, Jesus mysteriously shows up at a supper meal with the disciples at Emmaus, but they do not recognize him as their teacher and friend; at least, not until he takes the bread, blesses and breaks it, and shares it amongst them. Then, the disciples return to Jerusalem and Jesus once more appears to them and says “Peace be with you!” - and this time, they are scared. They think he’s a ghost. But Jesus says, “Look at my hands and my feet. It’s really me!” And once again, he eats with them; this time, they share a meal of fish.
I’ve always been drawn to these final verses of Luke because of how human they feel - the disciples experience disappointment, sadness, and doubt: Dr. Jones reminds us that the loss of their leader is profoundly traumatic. She also writes about how Jesus’ own body bears the marks of trauma, too; there is something profound in this idea that his resurrected being still carries his humanness.
At the same time, Jesus and his friends also share in joy, in wonder, and in companionship. For despite it all, Jesus blesses them with peace. He invites them into nourishing relationship.
This story isn’t easy. Individually and communally, we’ve all lived through some difficult events not only in this last year, but for several years, and maybe more. We are not a community that asks you to leave your loss or your doubt or your questions at the door, and I thank God. We are a community that asks you to bring who you are, inviting all into sharing the bread and the cup (and the occasional picnic!). I also see the ways we practice blessing each other with the peace of Christ that meets us in our very being. This is reciprocal: sometimes we need to be the ones who say “peace be with you,” and other times, we need to be the ones to receive it.
I chose the block print medium because I’ve really been inspired by several artists who work with it, especially in justice movement spaces. I chose “Peace be with you” as the central image because it feels like the moment on which this story hinges; but you’ll notice Jesus’ hands still bear the marks. I placed the bread and fish on either side because this narrative is bookended by those shared meals. The other neat element about this medium is that it is easily copyable, so do let me know if you’d like me to pull a print for you! :)
I am truly grateful to work with St. Mary’s. Thank you for your wide welcome and generous presence. May peace be with each of you!