Abstract

The paintings of Vermeer invite us to ask questions but don’t provide all the answers. They are enfolded in mystery just like God. It is not easy to discern the will nor the work of God. They are imbued with uncertainty. That’s what faith is all about. In a number of his poems, R. S. Thomas attempts to map out the landscape in which God is to be found: He keeps the interstices in our knowledge, the darkness between stars. His are the echoes we follow, the footprints he has just left. We put our hands in his side hoping to find it warm. We look at people and places as though he had looked at them, too; but miss the reflection.
1
There is no instrument which we can design to contain, measure, reveal the will of God. And so we find ourselves trying to penetrate the interstices in our knowledge, listening to echoes, grasping reflections. In this way, we explore the mysteries.
God has given us some guidance. There is the revelation of his Word. In the tradition of the Church of Scotland, the Word of God is contained within the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. It isn’t equated with these words but contained within them. We need to exercise some judgement to discern what God is saying to us. It is mysterious. 2
There is the celebration of the Sacrament. ‘This is my body which is broken for you!’ has been interpreted differently in different denominations. The Kirk takes a middle line. It does not believe the body becomes the flesh of Christ nor does it believe the bread and wine are mere symbols.
They are what Christ says they are—his body and his blood and that’s all we can say. The rest is enfolded in mystery. How can we penetrate this mystery further? Break the bread and share the wine and be drawn into that mysterious communion—Father, Son and Holy Spirit. 3
There is the living Christ—crucified, risen, ascended, and glorified and yet incarnate in our time and space, hidden within our world, revealed when people welcome children, feed the hungry or gather together in small numbers in his name!
The transcendence and the immanence of God is the biggest mystery for he is not only without but also within. We can only make contact through silence and stillness for these are the instruments which reveal the secrets of the heart. How easy is it to calibrate them?
They require the patience of the sower—and there’s no knowing how long we will have to wait to discern the will of God. We become distracted and impatient. We succumb to the sin of Abraham who after twenty-five years of waiting forced God’s hand and produced a son by Hagar!
Once again Mark is our best guide. Jesus likens the Kingdom of God to a grain of mustard seed. It has very small beginnings but it contains the promise of a magnificent ending! Promises may or may not be fulfilled. We have to wait and see. Faith is the fruit of our conviction that God always keeps his promises.
When things don’t go according to our plan, we are tempted to look around and think there is nothing we can do to arrest the situation or, at least, what we can do would be insignificant compared to the problems we face. But who says we can see things from God’s perspective and thereby know the effectiveness of our contribution?
The important thing is always to make a beginning because a beginning is a sign of faith. So, a sower went out to sow. The seed contains the secret of life. Insignificant beginnings contain the secret of God’s Kingdom. We persevere until God’s secret is revealed. But there is a caveat. St. Paul says, ‘If I understand all mysteries … but do not have love, I am nothing.’ 4
Although The Little Street is beautiful to look at, on closer inspection you can see that the featured house is in some state of disrepair. The artist has been very alert to the crumbling tiles on top of the wall, the cracks in the façade, the discoloured paintwork, the water running down the gutter. The house, in fact, is not contemporary. It’s probably 200 years old!
There are four people in the painting—two women and two children. One woman is brushing beside a water barrel in the alleyway. The other is sewing by the door. The children are playing on the ground. The facial features are not realised. This is a stylistic composition. It is of symbolic significance.
Brushing has to do with cleanliness and by association purity. Sewing has to do with industry and a well-ordered household. The painting celebrates not a house but a home. ‘Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.’ says Jesus. 5 ‘Whatever your task, put yourselves into it, as done for the Lord…’ says St. Paul. 6
Vermeer’s painting would never have been hung in this old building. A wealthy benefactor would have commissioned it. Why would he have been attracted to this old-fashioned view of purity and industry? Are they values which never age but are somehow devalued in a contemporary context? Or does the old house help to reconnect us with a past in which these values are heroically displayed in our apostles, saints and martyrs?
In the letter to the Ephesians, the church is described as a household. 7 Two characteristics. Those who live there belong to a new humanity. People who are far off and even beyond the pale are united together in Christ with those who are near. And God has made his dwelling place in this house. He is the unseen guest at our table. And is known in the breaking of bread. The pure in heart see him and catch a glimpse of his divine countenance in their compassion.
The house has been foreshortened on the right side. On the left, it is connected to a building with empty benches. This home is part of a larger community, an essential building block for a civilised society. It has entertained angels unawares. How do I know this? The benches are empty today. Yes, but those who have been resting there have left their grubby marks on the paintwork behind the bench. Vermeer is ruthlessly honest!
In the little street, the two women and children are being together. There’s some space between them. Whilst they are close, they are not too close! For they simply let each other be. There is restraint and intimacy through the constancy of love. Whilst everyone is carrying their own burden and getting on with their day’s labour, you sense that at the appropriate time, they would sacrifice their work to share the burden of another.
In Vermeer’s composition, you can draw a triangle between the two women and the children. Sometimes, the Holy Trinity is represented as a triangle—Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Each person is distinct. But they are united together into one. This is a Holy Communion, a participation in the community of the Godhead, where there is room to belong and space to be in the place where heaven comes down to earth in the breaking of bread and the sharing of wine.
Footnotes
1
R. S. Thomas, Collected Poems 1945–1990 (London: J. M. Dent, 1993), 220.
2
Articles Declaratory of the Constitution of the Church of Scotland in Matters Spiritual, I.
3
The Scots Confession, XXI.
4
1 Corinthians 13:2.
5
Matthew 5:8.
6
Colossians 3:23.
7
Ephesians 2:19.
