One of my all-time favorite books is the classic "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn." Set in the slums and tenements of Brooklyn in the early 1900s, it tells the story of one family's life and struggles as seen through the eyes of the young daughter. Growing up in such squalor is painful and difficult, and the cruelty of others is especially evident in the chapter regarding head lice in the overcrowded schools. Every week, the school nurse would come to the classroom and subject the children to the humiliation of being examined for lice in front of the entire classroom. If nits or lice were found, the child was told to stand to one side. At the end of the examination, the "pariahs" were made to stand in front of the class and the nurse would give a lecture about how filthy these children were and that they had to be "shunned." Those children were then dismissed with instructions to get "blue ointment" from the neighborhood drug store and for their mothers to threat the infestations.
When finally allowed to return to the classroom, the children were teased and tormented mercilessly by the other students. Each "offender" would be followed home by their classmates, who chanted, "Lousy, ye'r lousy, Teacher said you were lousy. Hadda go home, hadda go home, hadda go home because y'er lousy!" Often, as the "infected" child would receive a clean bill of health the following week's examination, they would then, in turn, torment those found guilty, forgetting their own hurt at being tormented.
"They learned no compassion from their own anguish. Thus their suffering was wasted."
Jesus tells a similar story in Matthew 18, beginning in verse 23. The king in this parable, deciding to bring his "books" up to date, has a servant owing millions of dollars brought to him. The man was unable to pay, and the king ordered that the man, his wife and his children be sold off to pay the debt. Falling at the feet of the king, the man begged for mercy and patience in paying back the large debt. The king felt pity for the man and forgave him his debt.
But after the man left the king, he went to one of the other servants who owed him a few thousand dollars. He grabbed the man by his collar and demanded immediate satisfaction. This fellow servant went to his knees and begged for more time, for patience, for compassion. The man wouldn't wait, and had this second man arrested and thrown into jail until the debt could be paid.
When the king heard about this, he called in the man he had forgiven. The king said, " You evil servant! I forgave you that tremendous debt because you pleaded with me. Shouldn't you have shown mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?" (Matthew 18:32b, 33 NLT)
The man learned nothing from his anguish. His suffering was wasted. He was shown compassion, yet he did not learn to be compassionate.
In the 1991 movie, "The Doctor," (based on Dr. Ed Rosenbaum's autobiography, "A Taste of My Own Medicine"), actor William Hurt plays an uncompassionate, cold, unfeeling oncologist. That is, until after he himself is diagnosed with cancer and becomes the patient. By the end of the movie, he has become a warm, caring, compassionate doctor. He learned compassion from his anguish. His suffering was not wasted.
Sadly, as Christians, we run the very real risk of being pharisaical. We have been forgiven, yet too often we forget that it is undeserved compassion that saves us. Time has smoothed the rough edges of our memories. We've forgotten that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. While our sins have been forgiven, indeed forgotten, by God, we must never forget that we were sinners. Paul, in his first letter to Timothy, wrote, "Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners - and I was the worst of them all!" Paul's ministry was so effective because he realized that he was a sinner saved by compassionate grace. And he joyfully - and generously - extended that compassionate grace - first given to him - to others.
Somehow, we feel we must ration the grace that was poured out so generously to us, as if we had been chosen to be the Keepers of Grace. Like the Pharisees, often we are overly proud of our "heritage," like the vineyard workers hired first in Matthew 20: 1-16. We've justified feeling superior and more deserving of higher wages. If we've learned nothing from Christ's anguish, then His suffering is wasted.
"Freely you have received, freely give."
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
John Johns having second thoughts about handing over the diploma...
After the last post, I got to thinking about John Johns - and art school - quite a bit. I knew I had a picture of us together somewhere and dug this out after dinner tonight. This was, of course, at graduation... and probably the only time I ever saw him in a real tie. Johns always, always wore a bow tie. I didn't make it to his funeral, but I really hope that he got to be buried wearing one. Here I look twelve. But I was - almost - all of twenty-one in this picture. Honest.
After I was accepted to AiP, I discovered that the president, Johns, was a cartoonist! I wrote him a letter and sent him some of my stuff the summer before I started there. The first day of classes he took the time and tracked me down - with, I am sure, a boat load of really important stuff to do, just to say "hi" and welcome me to the school... a genuine swell guy.
While hunting for Johns' picture, I happened across these, also from the halcyon days of art school. There was the Three Stooges, the Marx Brothers and and then this trio. In the first photo, from the top: Ray McAnallen, me and Will Finn... in the second, from left to right: me, Will and Ray. The three of us - all would-be cartoonists and all certainly pains-in-the-arses - must have given our instructors frequent pause to consider their calling... We tended to much in-class (and out - notice we're not in the classroom here) cutting-up with great frequency, as I recall. Certainly far more, in my case at least, than I ever studied. Ray once hit John Johns square in the face with a creme pie. I am sure Ray thought it was a good idea at the time. Will could imitate spot-on almost all of our male teachers and a few of the female ones. Certainly, he could draw them all as cartoon characters with wonderful and enviable wit and skill.
I've lost track of Ray over the years; the last I've heard he was in St. Louis with a big ad agency. Will is an big, big animator in L.A. and has worked for all the big, big studios on all the big, big movies (check him out on imdb.com lest you think I exaggerate).
Caricatures on Ice
This past weekend I had a terrific, if cold, outdoor two-day caricaturing gig... at the Plymouth (MI) Ice Spectacular... as an attention-getter in the Art Institute of Michigan booth. AiMich is a new art school here in suburban Detroit and is a "sister school" to my alma mater, the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. I've been doing caricatures now for thirty years - happily not all out doors and not all in the middle of winter - taught by the late AiP President and caricaturist John Johns. Getting to do caricatures, through the school then, was a boost to my frail ego and to my thin portfolio, and helped fill, if partially, both wallet and belly. I, literally, wouldn't have graduated if not for the extra money from the caricature gigs.
It was nice to return the favor.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
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