Prague Journal—09.06.25

Spent the last hour doing office work at Starbuck's in Malá Strana. (One of the nice things about "stinking liberals" is they'll let you sit and use up their internet for hours and never give you the "move along" look of a running-dog capitalist. They probably wouldn't even notice, or care, whether or not you bought a cup of coffee—but I did, because the workman is worthy of his hire!)

Tonight is the second English class this week. I pray that people will come, and that God will open a door for his Word. Thanks to the many who are praying to that end.

I mentioned yesterday that I'd spent a couple of hours in the National Art Gallery up near the Prague Castle.

It was wonderful to see again the impact of the Reformation upon the art of the 17th century—especially those Dutchmen (Brueghel, van Goyen, Lutichuys, and others whose names I didn't note down). I remember Francis Schaeffer drawing attention to the way those artists began to celebrate ordinary daily life as something created by God and worthy of artistic attention (in preference, for example, to all the gods and goddesses of classical mythology).

As I walked through the galleries yesterday, there was one beautiful painting after another of regular people doing regular things in regular ways—fishmongers, and skaters, and tavern-keepers and drinkers, and village markets with shoppers, and wooing, and something that looked like lawn bowling and croquet, and hunting, and…

…and then—amid all that ordinariness—an angel announces to Mary that she will become the mother of Him who will save his people from their sins; or a man who looks like every other man—well, almost—gives sight to a man born blind.

"The Word became flesh, and we beheld his glory…" Glory in the midst of ordinary things.

One set of four little paintings was amusing in its ordinariness. They depicted "the four senses" (I guess the fifth, sight, was left implied as you were viewing the paintings). "Hearing" was a man banging on a little metal gong of some sort, and "taste" was a man draining a tankard (of beer?) outside a tavern. OK. But "touch" was (the same) man feeling in his pocket for some change (for one more round?). And "smell" was the man watching a nearby dog pooping on the sidewalk (gods and goddesses don't poop, in case you hadn't noticed, and if they did, their poop wouldn't stink). It takes a certain kind of worldview to paint a painting like that!

There were also many beautiful "still lifes" (I don't think the plural is "lives"). One in particular caught my eye. It was called "Still Life with Golden Goblet and Roses." It was exquisite—beyond my ability to describe in words—but what delighted me was not the golden goblet or the roses, but the way the artist had depicted the play of light on the objects in the painting—a reflection off the edge of a pewter tray, what must have been a reflection from a window-shaped light source playing on the surface of a vase of Chinese design, a fluted glass that would have been barely visible against the dark background but for the light that gave substance to the wine it held. It was magnificent… and yet so very ordinary.

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow; praise him all creatures here below (like pocket change and earthy smells and the play of light on glass); praise him above, ye heavenly host; praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."