Coming Through

ekphrastic challenge

The Newborn Christ by Georges de La Tour (1640-1649)

Saint Anne,

I can feel your hand cradling the light,

cupping its warmth,

and coming through the generations

to my forehead

where it rests

with my grandmother’s prayers

and the intercession of your grandson

who prayed for us

that we would be one,

bundled together like the sticks

in the fable—unbreakable.

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Composition Notes:

What a lovely Christmas meditation this ekphrastic challenge from Melanie provided. It is a luxury to sit with beautiful art and ask what it is saying. This time I had a strong sensation, and I had to trace that feeling back to its origin.

With this piece, I feel quietness steal over my body, as if someone is tracing a line across my forehead. A sense of restfulness emanates from this painting. The masterful use of chiaroscuro creates a mood of contemplation that invites the viewer to meditate and linger. It reminds me of what it felt like to be a young child at naptime. When my grandmother was babysitting me and trying to get me to fall asleep, she used to trace a line across my forehead and then down my nose. My eyes would inevitably close.

This poem is addressed to Saint Anne, Mary’s mother, whose hand is raised and shielding the candlelight. La Tour is famous for candlelit subjects, and one look at this scene tells you why. You don’t have to see the flame to know that it is there.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness has not overcome it.

John 1:5

I have been thinking lately about my grandma’s prayers. In her last decade of life, she prayed every day for each of her children and grandchildren by name. When she died, I felt the loss of those prayers as well as the loss of her vitality and humor and hymn singing. She was a force to be reckoned with. In her absence, I have reflected on Christ’s high priestly prayer, and the immense comfort of knowing that he prayed for us while he walked on earth and now intercedes for us before the Father. Try to take it in. The one who spoke all this into existence prays for us even now (Romans 8:34). The generative power of the Word became flesh is still working on behalf of his people, speaking his wholeness into our brokenness.

If the reality of your life right now makes those words seem like a farce or a fairy tale, bring that pain to him and let him bind up your wounds. We don’t have to pretend because he came to bear our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4). We don’t have to be plastic. I have been thinking about this a lot since reading Kimberly Phinney’s beautiful essay on why our hope is holy and we don’t have to gloss over the hard with pretend happiness. I am a recovering optimist and learning this one day at a time.

I would love to read your ekphrastic poems based on this painting or any other paintings by La Tour. I had never heard of him until Melanie posted the challenge, and I was blown away by his brilliance. This is a good place to start if you want to learn more. I would also love to read a poem you wrote in only one sentence. I didn’t intend for this one to come out this way, but every time I try to alter the line breaks or add in more imagery, it feels wrong. I’ll leave you with words from someone who has so many thoughts about you, he could fill a beach with them. May his hand be on you in this new year.

“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

John 17:20-23