"What this nobody...has in his heart."
Loving Vincent is an opulent and textured film centered on investigating the death of Vincent Van Gogh by examining how he lived. Nearly 65,000 original oil paintings by more than 100 artists comprise the cells that give life to this story and homage to Vincent. Van Gogh produced 2,000 works of art, with most of his best known works done in the last two years of his life. The film indicates that he was painting nearly every day in his final years.
The closing scene is a haunting letter from Vincent to his brother Theo, in which he spells out his struggles and loneliness. His paintings were a furious attempt to show others the beauty he saw all around him. He saw the world as vivid and kinetic. He was chided and ridiculed and impoverished, yet he he could not turn away. The letter confesses that he “wants to show the world what this nobody…has in his heart.” Though faithful to this hope, he stumbled through life unwanted, rejected, and unvalued.
I sit here this morning, drinking coffee from my Vincent Van Gogh mug and look up the value of his last painting sold at auction. In May of 2015, L'Allée des Alyscamps sold at a Sotheby's auction for $66.3 million. It is sadly ironic that he succeeded in showing the world what was in his heart and the world loved it- far too late for him. Echoes resonate from Sekou Sundiata’s “I Want to Talk About You”, which speaks of the gentrification and appropriation of Harlem’s history and art: “…like the famous who want your infamy without your tragedy, like the rich who want your treasure without your pain.” How often do those with means dismiss the struggling nobodies of this world until there is an opportunity to monetize them?
The heart of the nobody is so important. The unconventional and dismissed souls that look up at night and see swirling stars, these remind us of the kind of vulnerability it takes to be a disciple of Christ. Jesus abandoned what we claim to strive for in order for us to rest with him among the stars (emblematic of angels is in the Jewish cosmology). To the poor and meek, He promised the stars. He took up a cross of self-sacrificing love and then handed it to all who would heed His call to “come, follow Me.” And yet, the church has monetized the cross and erected systems and structures and programs. We’ve made a religion and wield a law, but too readily forget what it means to be a disciple. We have coffee mugs and exorbitant artifices to commemorate our cross-bearer, without ever bearing the cross to follow after Him.
Ray Vander Laan illuminates what it means to be a disciple in his series In the Dust of the Rabbi. Jesus did not go to a metropolitan center to gather the ones who would become His image to the world. He went to Bethsaida (around Korazin), a small fishing village. He chose Peter, Andrew, James, John, and Philip from here. The fishermen he chose were fishermen because they did not make the cut to go onto follow a local rabbi. Like Vincent, they were not Salon worthy.
Jesus chose these men. What characteristics did they embody that emboldened Jesus to choose them? Passion and commitment, Jesus believed in them, and willingness to spend all their time with Jesus: these were the three things Ray Vander Laan mentions as requirements of a disciple. Like Elisha, they dropped everything to follow the Master. The rabbi of the local village did not see potential in them. Jesus did. They spent all their time following Jesus, listening to His words, watching how He interacted, with whom He interacted, and what was important to Him.
We can learn about discipleship from Vincent Van Gogh as well. Our hearts ache for beauty and truth. Jesus embodied this and the disciples gave all to follow Him. Vincent’s heart desired to capture and share the beauty and truth he saw and he gave all to pursue the vision. In both cases, it would cost them everything. The pursuit of the ideal required dedication, tenderness, and vulnerability.
A heart stirred into feeling is not enough to be a disciple. When the cares of the world choke the seed’s life, it is a sad loss. To be fully human, we must act on what we know, what our surrendered heart asks of us. Psalm 49 says “the meditation of my heart will give understanding.” C.S. Lewis writes in The Screwtape Letters, “The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able ever to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.” Our mind, will, emotion, must shema. Upon “hearing”, we must act. In the doing, we become.
Vincent was alive and moving amongst the deadened hearts who traded beauty and truth for unfeeling. He chose to live for the beauty in his heart, to share this with the world with full determination. Perhaps his early experience with Jesus informed His manner?
Van Gogh studied religion and was an evangelist in the Borinage, a poor mining district in Belgium. It was while he was doing evangelistic work that he was drawn to become an artist. He admired the work of Jean François Millet and Honoré Daumier, who chose the poor as their subject matter. Like Jesus, he saw the beauty and truth in the humble and meek of this world. These were the people he loved and identified with most closely. Why? This world has little use for those without wealth, power, or position. In people like this, Vincent saw value and shared a common experience. People like this would form the New Kingdom that Jesus would bring as He became like them and shared their experience. Jesus calls to the heart of each of us. Whatever is in your heart, whatever the talent or desire, He wants it. He will use it. He makes us more fully ourselves, not less. For Vincent, it was tell the story of the beauty you see. For the fishermen, you will fish for and gather mankind, so go and be the story.
Peter was a fisherman from a small town, He knew boats and water. Strolling across the water one night, under the stars, comes Jesus. Jesus invites him to come. So badly did Peter desire to be like Jesus, he was was willing to forget everything he knew to be certain in order to walk as Jesus walked- on the water. Jesus was no mere man, He was the God-man.
Is there no more Jesus, the God-Man? The awe and mystery of Immanuel is too often lacking. There is only what we read as statutory law and non-contextual chapter and verses. We look to scripture without the one to whom it points. There is a life of unfeeling without the courage to act on shema. There is life of syntax and never a full kiss (ee cummings). There is an appropriation of blessing without ever getting wet or mocked for standing in a field with a box of paint- mocked for seeing the world ablaze in a beautifully unique way.
The boys that threw rocks at Vincent as he painted had no idea the painting could be worth more than $66 million. How differently they would have treated him had they perceived his value. Had they known the story, would that “nobody” had been treated differently? The story has been set aside. The value of the man is encased and embossed, but it is not the man. The man himself is the treasure. Jesus looked at people and knew this. He called out beauty from peasants, as did Vincent. That few saw Vincent this way is the pain. Yet, the heart of Jesus, the “nobody”, calls to us, to show us- no, to give us- His heart. What is in the heart of the “nobody”? Great love for those with the courage to follow Him.
