The act of creation takes devotion and patience

by DRM

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This is John the Evan­ge­list, who wrote the Gospel of John.  John was the wit­ness, the dis­ci­ple who was always in the right place at the right time.  The eagle that soars into the sky, hold­ing a man­u­script in its talons, is a  metaphor for his faith.

Some 700 years after the death of Christ, a monk named Ead­frith labored in the wild and uncom­pro­mis­ing wilder­ness of Northum­bria to bear wit­ness to the story of John the Evan­ge­list and the other authors of the Gospels.  His work is known as the Lind­is­farne Gospels.

The images are painstak­ing and sen­si­tive.  They tell us some­thing about the soul of the artist.

And they tell us some­thing about the essen­tial way we should approach our own path of creation.

Ead­frith didn’t  inscribe each page of the vel­lum and draft each illus­tra­tion for wide noto­ri­ety.  Maybe a thou­sand peo­ple would have seen this Gospel in his life­time.  But in cre­at­ing each page, he  deep­ened his rela­tion­ship with his faith, used his gifts to tell a story that was per­sonal and had mean­ing.  The act of cre­ation was con­tem­pla­tive, ruminative.

We look at his work 1300 years later through the fil­ter of its unique­ness as an object.  But we can draw strength for our own cre­ations by imag­in­ing the work of Ead­frith.  What do we have inside us that gives us pur­pose and pas­sion, that we can draw strength from by the act of creation?

Note:  Mercator’s map of Northum­bria was drawn in the 17th cen­tury, 1000 years after the Gospels were drawn.

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