Holiness & Justice: Called to Make a Difference
Ric Stott, 2016
A limited edition A3, high quality art print signed by the artist, Ric Stott. All profits from the sale of prints goes towards funding the creative, missional work at 35 Chapel Walk artspace in Sheffield city centre.
Limited edition of 25 prints for each painting from the series.
Called to Make a Difference
Before I began in my first station as a Methodist minister I travelled to the Northernmost tip of Europe. I sat in the endless summer sun, way above the Arctic Circle amidst the tundra and looked out North across the Barents Sea. The air was still and pure as midnight approached and the sun drifted gently down to touch the horizon before rising again in the same instant.
From the top of the cliff I realised that all there was in front of me was the smooth, cold sea, then ice, then the North Pole, then oblivion. It was a moment of peace and clarity. Behind me lay the whole wide world, almost every other soul on Earth, with their noise, pain and clamouring need. As I thought of all that going home entailed my prayer was simple: “Why can’t I just stay here?”
And yet, strong as that desire was, I felt the call back. Back into the complex and wonderful world behind me where joy and sorrow intertwine. Back to a world that was far from pristine, a world who’s dirt made it real. I was called from the place of stillness to re-engage, in a deeper way.
In recent months it feels as if the pain of the world has never been more real. Here in the UK there is an increase in racially motivated attacks by a far right emboldened by the recent referendum result, a bomb explodes at Istanbul airport, latinx and other members of the LGBT community are targeted and gunned down in a night club in Orlando, and on and on. These days I can feel the hope drain from my bones. As a white cis-man living in a western country my privilege shields me from the worst (although as a gay person the news of homophobic attacks provoke fear as well as sorrow), but for some reading this the horrors may well be much more immanent. There is a strong temptation to run back to that pristine tundra, to disengage because the sum of the pain is too much to bear.
This painting is based on an image of Sophie Scholl, a political activist in Nazi Germany. In 1943 her work of non-violent resistance against the government led to her execution by guillotine at the age of 21. Here she is: still, strong and resolute.
I wonder what happens when you find a place of stillness. What cries do you hear from outside or within? Do you ignore them and try to drown them out with all the noisy media so easily at hand or do you turn to face them?
For me when I’m in that still quiet place, I find that choice. And even as hope ebbs away there is still an incessant call that is gentle and truthful that beckons me to re-engage once more. There is no romantic heroism here and the costs may be very high indeed. But each day, in our waiting or going, in our action or inaction; we choose.