Starlit

(first published on Sunday, January 3, 2010 in the Faith section of Cebu Daily News of Inquirer Publications Inc; posted on inquirer.net, the website of the Philippine Daily Inquirer on Monday, January 4, 2010).

We can call Saint John, the youngest of Christ’s twelve apostles, “the one who leaned on the light.” Midway through the fourth gospel of which he is the inspired author, John recounts having reclined at the Last Supper on the bosom of the one whom he quotes, paragraphs preceding in the same book, as saying, “I am the light of the world.” (John 8:12)

Peculiar to John’s rendition of the good news is its sparkling imagery. Its prologue proclaims the Word that was God, the Word that wrought life, life that for humankind was unquenchable light. Its ninth chapter records Jesus’ restoration of sight to a man born blind. Its epilogue records the resurrected Savior’s appearing, at the rising of the sun, on the shore of Lake Tiberias to the apostle and six others who had gone fishing overnight.

We can imagine the evangelist John’s prominent use of light in writing as suggesting in him a providential fascination for anything lustrous: perhaps the lamps lit within Jerusalem’s temple, the torches he used as a teenage fisherman to make his way to the waters in the dark, or the stars shimmering all around a hidden moon – celestial bodies that John cannot have missed on nights fair in weather and bounteous in catch.

Did John ever encounter the artistry of his fellow evangelist, the physician Luke, who dabbled in painting? He would have appreciated in the doctor’s works the dramatic use of light and shade, known centuries later in formal art schools as chiaroscuro. To Saint Luke is traditionally attributed the only known portrait of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the model for all other Mother of God icons. Light on that portrait, and the figure of twinkling stars that define Eastern Christianity’s Mary illustrations, Saint John (to whom Jesus bequeathed his mother) would have knowingly admired.

Stars—as they should not—feature not in the first and only artist-drawn portrait of me that I have. But I like to think that light, a simple hint of that light which no darkness overcomes, does. Artist and art professor Arlene Villaver sketched me in charcoal and marker on paper one fine afternoon last December, at the end of Binhi Art Group’s press conference on “Reflections,” the recently-concluded exhibit at the SM City Cebu Art Center.

Not counting the blazing sun, that afternoon began brilliantly enough. The exhibit’s media and entertainment collaborator, Lyndon Angan, welcomed with the warmth of disposition and treats of warm coffee the conference’s guest writers and photojournalists at one of the city’s cafés. There I met the summery Arlene, who, after introductions, shone with interest about the craft of those at hand who wielded pen and camera for a living, calling these, based on her similar experience as an artist, “a double a double blessing: an opportunity to do something that you love and something that yields monetary returns.”

I call the opportunity a triple blessing, as Arlene and her colleagues revealed during the press conference proper, which was held at the hilltop home of installations and furniture manufacturer Janice Minor. The artists explained that they organized “Reflections” as a step towards reclaiming the culture for Christ. This, art and communication's being instruments, in Binhi’s words, “to celebrate God’s love goodness, kindness, greatness, faithfulness, and sovereignty over us through our artistic expressions” is their third blessing on their stewards.

Binhi’s message reminds me of Venerable John Paul the Great’s address to members of the Pontifical Council for Social Communications during their plenary meeting almost eight years ago. Then, the pope said: “The Gospel lives always in conversation with culture, for the Eternal Word never ceases to be present to the Church and to humanity. If the Church holds back from culture, the Gospel itself falls silent. Therefore, we must be fearless in crossing the cultural threshold.”

The artists of Binhi, at the end of the recounted afternoon, gave guests a glimpse of how they spread the good news through their craft. Each painter made him or herself available to do sketches of the guests, one after another. Some of the artists watched their colleagues at work and spoke to the models of how well they have been represented.

“She made you look very good, and very expressive,” an artist told me, referring to Arlene’s sketch of me. “Live up to it.”

This is what the Epiphany means to us today. In being Christian-cultured and in our own national culture, be it through an offer of a cup of coffee to another, a genuine interest to see and proclaim the blessing in another’s life, or in our well-meaning perspective of another, we can choose to see and share goodness, to see and share God’s light. Thus, like the Star of Bethlehem, the star of the light of the world that Saint John beautifully proclaimed, the star that the three wise men followed like a signpost to the Word-made-flesh, the star that Mary epitomizes in leading all to her Son and our Savior, we too can give each other starlight.