THE STARRY NIGHT AND GOD'S FOOL
Back to the Van Gogh’s Upper Room scene. Brother Ha shared Van Gogh’s most famous work, The Starry Night (1889), which was painted one year before he died. Unlike his other paintings, Van Gogh painted the scene out of his own imagination. The painting represents a poignant reflection and longing of his soul. There are many different interpretations of Van Gogh’s masterpiece. According to Chulsoo Park, who wrote the book, Vincent Van Gogh: A Wounded Healer (title translated from Korean as only the Korean version exists), the first thing that jumps out is the contrast between the glowing golden circling stars (imagined only by Van Gogh) and the town beneath it. The golden stars represent the immense love of God, according to Van Gogh. The golden bright-lit stars overshadow and dominate over the darkened town but with homes displaying golden lights out of their windows. In the center of the town is the church and its prominent steeple, which features no light emanating from the church. Just as the stars, what also is featured is the gigantic cypress tree dwarfing the church steeple. According to Park, the cypress tree is drawn to touch the heavens in worshipping and praising God, whereas the stars are declaring the love of God uninhibited from the concern and the reach of the wooden institutional Church. In 1888, Van Gogh wrote a personal letter, which gives us an insight into his orientation; “a great starlit vault of heaven… one can only call God”. Van Gogh’s God could not be contained within the Church. His God was as bright as the stars and as free as the sky, it seems.
The term “wounded healer” was coined by Henri Nouwen in remembrance of Vincent van Gogh. Nouwen credits Van Gogh for his spiritual awakening and discovery of his gifts. Van Gogh’s vision, life, arts, and legacy still heal, not out of mastery or perfection but precisely because of his wounds. His otherworldly creativity flowing right out of his wounds still proclaims, “a great starlit vault of heaven.”
The world would not and could not contain Van Gogh. The Church would not and could not contain him either. His vision of sanity, which ironically the world and the Church called insane, was and is still salvific, and offers hope, it seems. Perhaps the world, including the Church, was insane while Van Gogh was sane all along. . .
I still do not know exactly what moved me in my core. More discerning is needed on my part. I am listening. . .
A day later, I listened to Vincent by Don McLean. Although it was my umpteenth time, this time it hits me different and afresh.
Vincent by Don McLean
Starry, starry night
Paint your palette blue and grey
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
Starry, starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night
You took your life, as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you
Starry, starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in the ragged clothes
The silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow
Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will
AFTERWORDS
My wife tells me that this blog entry reminds her of Michael Card’s song, God’s Own Fool, which we used to listen to and sing out loud almost to a point of shouting. “Come be a fool” and starting and joining the fool’s parade is the invitation of our life.
It seems I've imagined Him all of my life
As the wisest of all of mankind
But if God's Holy wisdom is foolish to man
He must have seemed out of His mind
For even His family said He was mad
And the priest said a demon's to blame
But, God in the form of this angry young man
Could not have seemed perfectly sane
When we in our foolishness thought we were wise
He played the fool and He opened our eyes
When we in our weakness believed we were strong
He became helpless to show we were wrong
And so we follow God's own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable
Come be a fool as well
So come lose your life for a carpenter's son
For a madman who died for a dream
And You'll have the faith His first followers had
And you'll feel the weight of the beam
So surrender the hunger to say you must know
Have the courage to say I believe
For the power of paradox opens your eyes
And blinds those who say they can see
When we in our foolishness thought we were wise
He played the fool and He opened our eyes
When we in our weakness believed we were strong
He became helpless to show we were wrong
And so we follow God's own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable
Come be a fool as well