A surprise was waiting for me on my recent visit to the International Center for a Culture of Compassion (ICCC). I was always drawn to the beauty of Matisse’s Chapelle de Vence. I was curious to know what the presenting artist, Alain Kirili, had to say about this beautiful and inspiring chapel. Was it going be an expression of egotistical knowledge of art or something more genuine? Matisse had said he designed La Chapelle to “awaken the desire to be fulfilled in the Eucharist”. What would Alain say?

Alain Kirili & Rev. Paul Anel ©Heart's Home USA

I was pleasantly surprised. What I heard on Sunday was a child like, pure and beautiful story of how Alain came to love the cross and started to paint the crosses “without understanding why”. This amazed me—true wonders of God’s beauty capturing the artist and releasing him beyond his own creativity.

Alain mentioned how art awakens more longing, perhaps more of the beauty and the good things that God intended in His creation and humanity. 

La Chapelle de Vence inspired and attracted Alain to the cross, not so much by religious significance but by the beauty of the chapel that Matisse had poured all his heart and energy into creating in his final days.

God gave Matisse an amazing artistic gift and near the end of his life he gave back to God what he had been given, something beautiful and inspiring for all people, and also to give glory to God. Matisse drew people to his works with silent reverence, for the true beauty that reflects God’s love and grace—perhaps that is the way it should be for all artists.

I was touched by the natural, unforced approach of Alain’s paintings and sculptures of the cross. He was drawn to the cross of Jesus through its simple, beautiful form—the true beauty of Alain’s works were fruits of God’s generous and gentle love.

Alain Kirili, Paintings of the Cross ©Heart's Home USA
 

We know that God’s Love is never forced; His Love is unending and does not know failure. He loves us with the confidence because He sacrificed and paid everything for all humanity and the cross is where we meet Him and His love. I think it is beautiful to see the significance of the cross sinking deeper into Alain’s soul as he is painting the crosses—God’s Love is meeting the hands of an artist!

Another point I observed is that the artist cannot achieve today the same level of work that he or she will achieve in the future. We can only be what we can be today by God’s grace—God is not asking more from us than what we are today even with respect to our faith. And this made me see the parallel of artists and the holy Fathers, the works of artists, as with holy Fathers, is to trust God that He will create what is supposed to be today and also into the future. This frees everyone to do their works with hard work and obedience and yet with freedom and joy.

I left ICCC with new joy and assurance of my life as a pianist. We should always trust with childlike hearts about our works. True expression of beauty comes by being who we are now as an artist and trust the grace and the power of the cross to lead us into our future.

To know more about the Matisse Chapel and to Watch the unique BBC teaser, CLICK HERE. 

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BIOGRAPHY. Alain Kirili (born in 1946) is a French con­tem­po­rary artist. He is rec­og­nized for his post-min­i­malist abstract sculp­tures in forged iron and his large-scale public sculp­tures. His work has sub­se­quently been the sub­ject of numerous gallery and museum exhi­bi­tions in America (including PS1, Dallas Museum of Art, brooklyn Museum) and Europe (Musée Rodin, Musée d’Orsay, Musée de l’Orangerie, Musée Picasso, etc.) His work has also been exhib­ited in group or two-person shows with artists such as Larry Bell, John Chamberlain, Ron Gorchov, Mark di Suvero, Richard Serra, Joel Shapiro, and Frank Stella.

Alain Kirili, Crucifix ©Heart's Home USA

On the Wednesday following Easter I had the privilege of attending the papal audience with Pope Francis in St. Peter’s square. Much to my surprise I had received a green ticket the previous day at the offices for the Pontifical North American College which gave me access to the seating nearest to the pope at the top of the grand stairs in the shadow of St. Peters. I had been forewarned to not expect orderly queues like back in the states, but I did not fully appreciate the import of his advice until various pilgrim groups began to amass themselves haphazardly around the security entry! Somehow I ended up with a seat about forty feet to the left of Pope Francis and six rows from the front.

© Aaron Peiffer

The occasion had special significance for me since it marked the first anniversary of my confirmation and reception into full communion with the Catholic Church. What a perfect gift to begin the Easter season; to hear and see our new Holy Father in person!

Pope Francis continued the Catechesis of the Year of Faith by meditating on the words of the Creed: “and rose again on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures.” He emphasized how like the Apostles and women in the gospels we are called to “come out of ourselves to take this joy and this light to all the places of our life.” He also spoke of how “the gaze of faith is always in need of the simple and profound gaze of love.” How true it is that our faith ought to always lead to love and our love back to faith.

His words reminded me of the confidence I should have in the risen Lord. Why do I so often measure the Lord’s ability to work through me by my own human weakness and frailty? Is it not the very divine life of the risen Lord within me that enables me to live a life of joy, love, and service? Pope Francis’s words helped rekindle my desire to serve Christ in the world, especially as I prepare to go on mission with Heart’s Home in his home city of Buenos Aires, Argentina!

At the conclusion of the audience, Pope Francis addressed the youth present and exhorted them to “pass on the witness that Jesus is alive and this will give us hope, it will give hope to this world, which has aged somewhat, because of wars, because of evil and because of sin. Press on, young people!”

A couple of weeks ago I went to Our Lady of Lebanon Cathedral in Brooklyn Heights to attend an evening of prayer for peace in Syria. Gregory Mansour, the Maronite bishop, had invited church members and representatives from the Jewish and Muslim faiths, as well as kids, families, some diplomats, and journalists. The church is full. In between psalms, representatives deliver speeches. They talk about the Syrian people, begging for peace for them. Their need, their thirst is ours. “Somehow I believe we all originate from Syria,” says the Muslim representative before leading us into the Lord’s prayer.

Our Lady of Lebanon (© Eric Anderson)

“May peace come like wildflowers, suddenly,” asks the Rabbi from the synagogue next door. “No heart that is opened to the reality of suffering can fail to be moved.” (Msgr. Octavio Cisneros)

After these declarations, the voices of the choir are as one. Strong women’s voices singing very simple oriental melodies. They remind us of our hope to one day become truly One. 

The choir is composed of five women. Who are these sentinels of hope? Once the prayer is over, I ask Rosina a few questions. She comes from Banias, a city on the Syrian coast and has been living in the United States for almost 20 years. She grew up with two brothers and started to sing in her church choir at the age of 12. “It turned out that I had a good memory for musical rhythms and a very strong voice (sometimes too strong!).” To prepare the singing, they simply gather five minutes before Mass. She prays, “that [the Syrian people] may face the current crisis with hope, faith, and solidarity.”

The Maronite hymns reflect “a deep spirituality, an authentic nostalgia for our demographic and Christian roots. . . . It illuminates life in its entire splendor, as designed by Jesus Christ and lived by Saint Maron and our ancestors.” These hymns acquired their richness during a long journey plagued by a series of genocides and forced displacements. Altogether it is “embalmed by oriental music and beautifully blended with western culture.”

The Qadeeshat (Kyrie Eeleison) anthem is one of the finest treasures of the Maronite liturgy. In conclusion of this vigil prayer, it reminds us that peace is far from being a concept, a vague idea or ideology. Tonight, at the cathedral, peace had a name. Rosina. The name of each member of the choir, of each one joining his voice to the voices of others, bearing witness to the unique presence that is peace. God’s presence.

Listen :

Qadeeshat (Kyrie Eleison)

Litany of the Virgin Mary

As I boarded the shuttle bus, I realized that I had underestimated the incredible energy and enthusiasm that precedes and surrounds the Boston Marathon. Within a couple hours I was corralled with approximately 27,000 runners, into ‘Athlete’s Village’— a massive pre-race staging area. 96 countries were represented at the 2013 Boston Marathon. I was shoulder-to-shoulder with persons who were incredibly passionate about and committed to the 26.2 mile race. After all, this was more than just a race — it was a historic celebration of our sport, a tribute to the physical and mental endurance of marathoning, and for many runners it was an opportunity to run for an important charitable cause. After five hours of pre-race activities, I finally reached the starting line in Hopkinton, MA.

The Hoyt Team, father and son, running the Boston Marathon (© Chris Wraight)

"Every mile of the race was filled with a wonderful spirit of hope."

My family and friends helped me during training and supported my effort to run Boston. So, I was especially excited to run the legendary course for my first time. More importantly, I wanted to demonstrate that we can all reach our goals, no matter how big or small they might be. I was filled with a tremendous sense of gratitude, for the many blessings which had been granted to me; I was in awe. 

The runner next to me was racing in memory of a loved one affected by leukemia. Many others were running in memory, or in honor, of loved ones.  The Boston Marathon runners raised about $18 million for charitable organizations in 2013. I was in the midst of heroes —athletes who were focused on supporting the needs of others, or overcoming their own physical challenges to reach the finish line. The Boston Marathon hosts a push rim wheelchair division, a visually impaired/blind division and a mobility impaired program.

Before the race, I discovered the inspiring story of 73-year-old Dick Hoyt, who pushes his disabled son, Rick, in marathons and triathlons across the country. Dick Hoyt embodies the concept of competition; he competes because he loves his son and wants to give him a chance to feel free of his disability. At mile five of the 2013 Boston Marathon, amidst a massive stampede of runners, I caught sight of the Hoyts. I was blessed with the opportunity to briefly run with and cheer for them. Every mile of the race was filled with a wonderful spirit of hope.

2011 Boston Marathon, Copley Square, finish line, © Lauren Frohne

After crossing the finish line, I was reunited with my wife and daughters. We were on the Boston subway when we learned of the explosions. My family and I, like so many others, were safeguarded by a benevolent and merciful God. Amid the pervasive chaos and disorder which followed the attacks, we sensed an outpouring of sympathy and love. The bombings at the Boston Marathon finish line presented an opportunity for compassion, which was immediately displayed by the courageous men and women who helped the wounded and provided medical attention. As we made our way to our hotel, we saw people reaching out to offer assistance to passers-by. Churches were extending offers of prayer and other institutions presented water, shelter, directions and restrooms. So many people were responding to the attacks with compassionate hearts. 

The next day we drove home to Pennsylvania. Although we left Boston, the whole experience has stayed with us. My youngest daughter and her friend colored signs and hung them on trees and utility poles in our neighborhood. The signs read: ‘Pray for Boston’ and ‘Bless the family of the eight-year-old-boy.’ The Interfaith Service at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross on April 18th provided a strong sense of healing and compassion for us and many others who were affected by the attacks. At the service, Reverend Roberto Miranda of the Congregacion Leon de Juda in Roxbury, MA delivered a message. He said, God “weaves a bright tapestry of goodness that includes a few dark strands."

I believe our faith calls on us to overcome the ‘dark strands’ with love and forgiveness. Love always overpowers darkness; love shines the brightest light. Of course reconciliation can take considerable time and require tremendous efforts. Other times, we can sense it happening softly, through compassionate acts, quietly and humbly—through the prayers of children, and their families, who continue to lift up Boston.

Picture

“Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile.” ― Mother Teresa

© Guillaume de Chateauvieux

Testimonial

What hap­pens at night in our neigh­bor­hood (Porvenir Bajo, in Valparaiso, Chile)? From what I wit­ness out­side of my window: the door of Juanita´s corner store are shut, the lamp­post light up like can­dles, and our play­ground lays silent. It is nothing out of the ordi­nary. But our hearts have a thirst that goes beyond what we per­ceive from our window. Somewhere in the night someone cries for com­pas­sion, for a pres­ence, for friend­ship.

Porvenir Bajo (Valparaiso, Chile)

During our Saturday nights upon returning home from our chapel, we share a glance of the new world in our Porvenir. We see new faces, hear new voices, and see men gather in places that remain empty during the day. There was beauty in front of us that was hidden like a trea­sure. The men that often kept silent during the day were out con­versing and living in the night. Simon, Benito, and I decided to stay out as well. We put on our extra jacket, packed up our mate (a hot herbal drink from Argentina that is nor­mally shared with others), recited a prayer, and with our rosaries at hand we ven­tured forth the nightlife.

The first one to shake my hand was Miguel Angel. I have come across him sev­eral times during the day, but we never shared more than a hello and goodbye. But in fact he knew who I was and where I came from. He asked if we were lost and I responded, “No, we’re here to be with you.” Miguel Angel was very happy to hear this. He invited us to gather around with the rest and intro­duced us as, “the young men that help the chil­dren.” Many in the group like Cristian told me that his nephew comes to our house on a reg­ular basis and that he is very grateful for thinking of the chil­dren. Our con­ver­sa­tions of work, jokes, and soccer matches quickly fol­lowed. The con­ver­sa­tions were so nat­ural that it felt as if I have known each one of them for years. It felt as if I worked alongside them, it felt more that I suf­fered with them too. I was no longer passing the maté to strangers, I was passing it to Miguel Angel, Cristian, Arturo, Luis, Claudio, and Mauricio, my friends. In a moment of our sharing the clouds dis­ap­peared from the sky and the moon lit up brighter than our arti­fi­cial light from our lamp­post. We all con­tem­plated the beau­tiful sight.. Miguel Angel said with words of wisdom and truth, “That there is a sign of God that no one can deny.” At this moment I couldn’t help but think, who were we to accept such a beau­tiful friend­ship, wel­coming, and grat­i­tude? Who was I to share this moment with Miguel Angel, a man with a pro­found love for God. His words will stay in my mind and heart: “I thought you only help chil­dren, thank you for lis­tening to me, when will you return?”

As he walked out of the museum after seeing 'STREET' for the first time, Jesse Scheinin felt compelled to "turn his life into art", quite literally . . .  ‘STREET’ is a 61-minute high definition video filmed over one week in September 2011 in the streets of New York City by the artist James Nares. The film shows ordinary street life dramatically slowed down by the high speed camera which reveals the subtle gestures and nuances of human movement and interaction. Step back a minute from the fast paced reality, open your eyes, and look at the streets of New York . . . as if for the first time.

After a walk through the MET, Evan and I step out into the sunshine of the Upper East Side. We see Asian tourists with cameras, hot dog vendors, and the tuxedoed saxophonist who’s always in front, playing an Oriental anthem with one hand, while waving that country’s flag with the other.

After a visit to the MET, our immediate desire is to turn our own lives into art. We’ve just seen the slow motion film “Street”, so upon crossing to the East side of 5th Ave, I begin to walk in excruciatingly slow motion. My right foot rises up into the air and I tilt my head towards the sky, as a family wearing new baseball caps passes. The foot returns to the ground and my left foot rises; I pivot my chin to gradually look into the eyes of the woman in the green dress, who clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she passes.

I continue like this until the end of the block. Evan likes it and decides to join me, as we turn down 84th St, towards Madison. The air is warm, and I meditate on each step and hand gesture. Evan moves a little ahead, and in between prolonged glances at buildings above, I watch his progress. A couple passes, and the woman looks back, staring in confusion and amusement. A few minutes later, I see that they have crossed over and come back on the opposite sidewalk to watch us.

A man in a grey suit walks his bulldog, and smokes a cigar. He walks to the end of the street and comes back, while we’re still only half way down the block.

He approaches me and asks, “are you with that guy up there?” nodding to Evan.

“Whaaaaattttttt??”

“He’s walking very slowly. Do you know why?”

“Iiiii doooonnnn’t knooooowwwww.”

About seven minutes later I reach the end of the block, where Evan is waiting. We smile and step back into normal speed, heading north for El Barrio.

WATCH a 2min17 excerpt from James Nares' STREET

The film is currently showing at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC until 27th May 2013.

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Evan Shinners, Sister Diana and Jesse Scheinin at the International Center for a Culture of Compassion

Edith Schaeffer, who founded L'Abri (The Shelter) with her husband in the aftermath of WWII in Switzerland, passed away this past Easter Sunday, she was 98.

Edith and Francis Schaeffer

L’Abri was born soon after Francis and Edith Schaeffer came to Switzerland as missionaries after the war.  They began to open their home to people from all walks of life who were searching for truth after experiencing the savagery of WW II.   The Schaeffer’s warm and welcoming home became the start of L’Abri.

Since then, L’Abri has become a safe place for those who struggle with the difficult but heartfelt questions concerning God, life, and being human.  At L’Abri locations in Switzerland, America and England, visitors regularly experience the sharing of rigorous, honest, and soul-searching engagement of minds over meals and afternoon tea.  These times of shared communication became the hallmark of L’Abri, a tradition that arose out of genuine hospitality championed by Edith Schaeffer’s servant-heartedness.

L’Abri could not have been what it is today without the gracious and warm hospitality of Edith Schaeffer, welcoming each person entering her house with a tray of homemade cookies and warm cups of tea, praying for them as she prepared their meals, and serving them on a table adorned with candles and flowers from her garden.

“Life is a work of art” she said, “shaped by the subtle shades of patience and creativity, faith and truth, hope and love.  And when every day activities of home and work become infused with theses qualities, the hidden art that lies beneath the surface begins to shine through” (from her book The Art of Life).  This statement attests to the underlying philosophy that governed her entire life.  

Edith Schaeffer fervently believed that life is a work of art and lived out her belief with passion and steadfastness, emphasizing the beauty of everyday life and turning hospitality into a creation of beauty and love.

In her life Edith Schaeffer was an ardent guardian and master of the disappearing art of hospitality and an advocate for finding, creating, and loving beauty.  Her life as a whole was itself a work of art dedicated to encouraging, enriching, and inspiring the heart and minds of people that crossed her path either in life or through her writings. 

The following words of her tribute by her son Frank Schaeffer captures Edith Schaeffer in a nutshell:  “Here’s what my mother showed me how to do by example: forgive, ask for forgiveness, cook, paint, build, garden, draw, read, keep house well, travel, love Italy, love God, love New York City, love Shakespeare, love Dickens, love Steinbeck, love Jesus, love silence, love people more than things, love community and put career and money last in my hierarchy of values and — above all, to love beauty.”   

Edith Schaeffer has now finally rejoined her beloved husband, passing over from the shadowland to the true world – where she believed there will be singing instead of sighing and eternal pleasure instead of pain.  But Edith Schaeffer's love for life, beauty, and mankind will live on in the hearts of countless people who have been touched by her life.

"The one thing that I have grown into, is working with things that have been used before. They have a symbolic value, you know, or meaning… They represent the people who are suffering. Because in their younger life, when [these materials] are ok, there is a lot of activity going on in them. But when they get old they are discarded, and that's the time when I intervene, looking for a way to uplift them." The man who speaks like this is El Anatsui. Born in Ghana in 1944, El Anatsui is a sculptor living in Nigeria, where he works with his many assistants on what could be defined an "art of resurrection."

It all started the day when El Anatsui ran into a bag full of liquor bottle caps. The artist, far from despising the discarded and fragmented metal pieces, saw their potential: “The bottle tops come in different colors, mainly red, gold, black and yellow — a limited palette but one rich enough to evoke Byzantine mosaics and Klimt paintings.” This is exactly what is expecting you at the Brooklyn Art Museum: bottle caps turned into Byzantine mosaics, humble metal fragments turned into mesmerizing objects of contemplation. Drawing from indigenous craft traditions from his native Ghana (Tenke dress), Nigeria and Mali (Dogon hunter's shirt), El Anatsui created a language that caused something of a sensation in the world at large, drawing crowds of admirers from Italy (Venice Biennale, 2007) to the United-States (Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2008). It is quite exceptionnal for an outsider (as far as the "art world" is concerned) to become so proeminent in museums and galleries worldwide. Maybe this is because his work triggers our deepest hopes: it speaks of the primacy of unity over fragmentation, of gratuitous beauty over utility, of redemption over suffering, of life over death.

I would like introduce you to an artist I have come to know during my time in Chile. An artist that in my opinion, represents a culture of the many street musicians of Valparaiso. An artist that has helped me understand humanity in the little things that makes us unique.  Better known as Chinoy, Mauricio Castillo has left his imprint in the new generation of Chilean artist with the tile of ¨El Bob Dylan de Chile¨.

CC BY-NC-SA manecattan

When I first listened to Chinoy, I was distant at first by his voice but I knew I was listening to someone special. As I continued to listen to him I saw and heard more than what was in front of me the first time. This time around I saw and heard a person who to me wants nothing more than to offer you himself. Upon watching him passionately play with his uproar lyrics of political angst and raw acoustic melodies, you cannot deny that you have witnessed the presence of a man revealing you the beauty he is constantly searching for. His thirst of finding the truth hidden in our daily lives with all sincerity is contagious and draws you in the way he perceives life. A life that has endured many hardships and has left him in pieces from departing from his hometown in Placilla, San Antonio to his travels as a street performer in the ports of Valparaiso, but with that discovering the words and chords that makes his music so distinct. As he says, ¨I like the vulgarity to mix the man in the field with the urban lifestyle, it is here where one finds the kindness and the conversations that simply pass the time.¨ the honest conversations. His poetry and his manner to present them are just that, honest. I have had the pleasure to see him live as he performs regularly in Valparaiso, and as I stood in the crowd and all the conversations around me accompanied by the heavy guitar and drums around him, internally I felt as if he was conversing to us many stories he has come to know.  Chinoy wants us to open our eyes in many ways of an anarchist, but the way that he has open mine is to never constrict my vision of the human person because in the end the miracle that this person has can pass us by.  If we are not careful we can lose a true gift, a true beauty. ¨When I play music there is an ambition in a form that is almost religious that allows me to contact the things that are much more precious than oneself and it unblocks my mindset.¨ This video link that is presented below can sum it all up. There is always much more to discover in him and his search for his true self leads to the search of man. ¨There are many times when I drink a cup or two with my demons but I have never lost the hope to convert into my beautiful self.¨

Chinoy – Llegaste de Flor