Weekly Reflection – 12/3/24

Last summer, just before Rev. David went on sabbatical, I gave St. Mary’s a little painting I made, which is now hanging in the library.

St. Mary’s Reflection: Eden Gallanter

I started work on this painting early in the spring, completing the ink work and painting bit by bit, mostly before the eleven o’clock service, hidden away in the top level of the church, amongst the old Sunday school supplies. I knew I wanted to make a work of art for my new church, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to make…though I did suspect it was going to feature the Virgin Mary.

One reason I try not to plan out my paintings too much is because they seem to have their own ideas, and I try not to interfere with them. That’s why my art always surprises me, and I always learn something from making it. For example, I don’t know why I made is the golden womb-like shape surrounding Mary’s body. Is she reborn in some way when she consents to be the mother of God? Is the Annunciation her baptism? Is she pregnant not only with a baby, but with his future resurrection? I don’t have answers, but I like meditating on these questions. For me, painting is a form of prayer.

The Annunciation has always been my favorite moment of Mary’s life, and I think this has to do with how I became a Christian. For those of you who have met me, you may know that I didn’t grow up in the Church—or indeed in any kind of faith environment. Growing up in the most secular corner of secular San Francisco, both Father and Son were little more than expletives to me.

I didn’t know much about God, but I did know something about angels. I loved looking at drawings and painting of angels. I wondered about angels, and dreamt about angels. I learned that William Blake, who was my favorite poet when I was a kid, had a vision of a “tree filled with angels” when he was eight years old. So by the time I visited Florence and saw the Annunciation paintings of Fra Angelico and Leonardo, they felt like home—uncannily so, like I had discovered my own bedroom deep inside a remote archeological dig. Many years later, when I started reading the New Testament and attending church, I realized that coming-home feeling had expanded far beyond angels to permeate the Christian life I found in the church. And I thought I understood a little of what Mary meant when she said “My soul doth magnify the Lord”.

St. Mary the Virgin has been a safe harbor for me. I only joined this church a year and a half ago, and still feel like I’m finding my footing. The tremendous warmth and kindness of this church community as I find my way has been at once overwhelming and irresistible. I love the beauty of the choir music, the way the paintings in the sanctuary shine like jewels on the dark woodwork, and the eager delight I see on the faces of the congregation when the Peace is passed.

In both Greek and Hebrew, “angel” means “messenger”, and messages from God are always invitations to conversation. It is a wonderfully intimate moment, the Angel and the girl, in conversation about the word and will of God. It is a moment of shared prayer, love, and even creation, in the sense that both are included in the creative power that is everlastingly proceeding from God.

Eden Gallanter