Darkness. Silence. Danger.

True art awakens us. As I gaze at Henry Ossawa Tanner’s 1902  painting of the Good Shepherd, mystery and longing arise in my chest. Tanner sets up the atmosphere with blues and dark greens.  The shepherd is seen against the lighter sky behind him. The sheep are almost imperceptible brushstrokes in the shadow beneath two trees. Bodies brush together—wool to wool, wool to knees, sheep’s wool to man’s wool coat. As one moves, they all move, as much by touch as by sight. The one thing that breaks the monochrome of blue and green is the white of the moon, which peeks out from behind the clouds and lights the earth behind them. It is dark, silent. The shepherd leads his sheep home by the moonlight. 

City dwellers may not know how dark darkness is, how silent is silence, how truly hazardous is rural hazard. To be apart from the shepherd in Tanner’s painting, to be separated from the flock, is darkness, is silence, is danger. That shoulder-to-shoulder-bumping into-each-other is safety in a barren land. 

Art can lead us to pray. Without words, without light, we move into silence, into the blessed darkness of prayer, longing to sense that touch, that bumping of shoulders with the divine. The Good  Shepherd leads us through dark valleys, keeping us close. Sometimes a shard of light illumines our prayer, like Tanner’s moon; mostly though, prayer is dark, more felt than seen, a glancing touch of the  Shepherd’s wool coat brushing against us. Shoulder to shoulder, we move, the Shepherd leading us home. Home: where no one can take us out of the Father’s hand. Home: where God will wipe every tear from our eyes. Home: where we will dwell in the land of the Lord forever. Home with the Shepherd and our fellow sheep.

Consider/Discuss 

• Jesus tells us that his sheep hear his voice. But sometimes that voice is hard to hear. Good and evil, right and wrong, black and white, can seem like a hazy shade of gray in the lights of the city. This week, what is one thing that we could do differently in prayer to bump shoulders with the Shepherd so that we know which way to go? 
• The comfort of the Shepherd isn’t just for our personal satisfaction. When we arise from prayer, strengthened and encouraged, we are to be sources of peace and surety for others. With whom in God’s flock do we need to be more in solidarity? Who is being left out? What can we do to make that right? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Good Shepherd, we are your people, the sheep of your flock. You  have made us, and we are yours. Refresh and bless us this day. We  want to be close—and yet we wander away. We take our own paths.  Lead us back. We have allowed others to lead us astray. Sometimes  you take us by the neck with your crook and pull us away from the  cliffs. Sometimes a simple brush of your cloak steers us straight. As  we enter into the darkness of prayer, reveal to us how that redirection  is your love. We want to be near you. You are our safety. Keep us  close, Lord. Lead us home.