Mirroring God

I spent much of last Thursday staring, transfixed, at this lovely wall hanging.  I'm not quite certain why I found it so delicious -- I am notorious for not liking that mustard color that forms so much of the background here -- but I just loved it.

It helped, of course, that it was hanging behind Cynthia Bourgeault as she delivered, first a workshop on Centering Prayer, and then an amazing presentation of her work on Mary Magdalene.  I would have been spellbound anyway, even without the beautiful wallhanging.

But beauty helps; it definitely helps.  I can taste the lovely colors and enchanting details of this design in my heart, though I don't quite understand how that works.  And as an artist, I like to think that some of my art can create that warming awareness of God's delicious presence in the hearts of others.

I forget, sometimes, that that's the job; get caught up in the fun of noticing and shooting "cool stuff."  But when it's right, when it's something that feeds the heart of the viewer, it feeds my heart as well.  It's as if, looking at it, we can see the presence of God, and that awakens in us the feeling of the presence of God within us.  Perhaps it's our mirror neurons at work?  I found myself wondering about that as I read Richard Rohr's prayer for today's Lenten Lesson in  Wondrous Encounters: Scripture for Lent :

"Mirror me like a magnet, good God.  Don't let me be drawn into false, unhappy, or accusing faces.  You are always and forever the Good Parent, and I long to see your face."  Perhaps this is the root of how we choose our friends, how we treat our families, how we choose the art with which we surround ourselves: we know how natural it is to mirror our surroundings, and so we do our best to fill our immediate surroundings with images of God's goodness and beauty.