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A few weeks ago, my husband and I took in an immersive Vincent van Gogh exhibit in Minneapolis. It was housed in a large warehouse with massive walls and van Gogh’s artwork was projected on all four walls and the floor. You indeed were immersed in his genius and beauty. I felt like I was standing on hallowed ground as images from his paintings unfolded, larger than life, all around me. (Click here to get an idea.)
Although van Gogh is known for his artwork, he began his life with a very different sense of vocation—he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a minister. He was sent to a small mining town in Belgium but his behavior was considered undignified by church officials and he was removed from his post.
After this rejection, van Gogh turned away from organized religion, but his artwork continued to be motivated by his faith. He related to working-class people who lived in poverty. Often they served as models for his paintings. He related to sunflowers discarded by the side of the road. Few artists were interested in sunflowers because they were considered coarse and inelegant plants. But Vincent saw beauty in lowly people and withered flowers. He wrote that the intention of his paintings offer solace to troubled hearts.
Van Gogh also related to Jesus. The prophet Isaiah says Jesus “was despised, and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and as one from whom men hide their face he was despised; and we esteemed him not.” (Is. 53:3). Van Gogh felt a connection to a God who was rejected and despised as he was; a God who would notice and die for the lowly and withered.
A common artistic representation of Jesus is the pietà, which means “pity” in Latin. The pietà is a sculpture or picture depicting the Virgin Mary holding the dead body of Jesus on her lap or arms. The first painting we are looking at today is van Gogh’s Pietà, but notice that the man laying in the arms of Mary is not her Son, but the artist himself. The second painting is The Raising of Lazarus. Again, we notice that Lazarus’ face has been replaced by van Gogh’s.
Van Gogh did not have an easy life. He alternated between fits of madness and clarity. He spent a fair amount of time at the asylum St. Remy, where he painted some of his greatest masterpieces, including the two we are looking at now. He died at the young age of 37 from an apparent suicide, and during his brief career, only sold one painting. His existence was one of obscurity and poverty. Yet, even in his darkest paintings, there was always a hint of redemption.
Let me close with an excerpt from van Gogh’s first sermon while in the ministry. In this sermon, Vincent paints a picture, not with oils and canvas, but with words as he describes a road leading to a high mountain summit and along it was a pilgrim, staff in hand. The pilgrim had been on the road for a long time and was very tired. Then he encounters a woman, an angel of God, stationed on the road to give hope to the pilgrims who traveled there.
The pilgrim asks, “Does the road wind uphill all the way?” to which she replies, “Yes, to the very end.” He then asks her, “Will the journey take the whole long day?” And the reply is, “From morn to night, my friend.” And the pilgrim goes on in sorrow, yet ever joyful.
After preaching this story, van Gogh reminded his listeners that this is the phrase the apostle Paul used to describe his own journey. And it would be a continual refrain for van Gogh as well. He once decorated his rented room with prints of biblical scenes, and beneath each picture of Christ he inscribed those words, “In sorrow, yet ever joyful.”
We all have sorrows. Maybe not to the extent of Vincent van Gogh, but we all experience bumps, bruises, and brokenness. In uncertain times, we search for hope and reassurance. Jesus was, as Isaiah says, a man of sorrows. Jesus relates to our suffering because he, too, suffered. Vincent related to Jesus’ humanity and it gave him hope. May it give you hope as well. Even in the darkest times, there is always a hint of redemption.
With JOY,
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