From June 20th, the week before our VBS. The Lord brought us about 100 children each night!

Here is last Sunday’s sermon on Mark 4.26–29.

Under great painting is confident draftsmanship. This drawing by Whistler, made in 1895 but printed in 1903, is done almost entirely by hatching — making lines of varying thickness to create shadows. In skilled drawings like this one the image seems to haunt the paper, coming to life in the negative space. The technique of drawing is quick, economical, and evocative. You can’t fake it. Every move counts. Whistler is known for paintings like his famous “Mother.” But his command of simplicity, as in this sketch of fellow artist Walter Sickert, is what gives his paintings life.

Ivry Gitlis died recently — the wild man of the violin. He gave the impression of complete indifference to whether anyone was listening, having some of the strangest mannerisms in the already eccentric world of classical music. This film captures all of it, with the cameras trained solely on Gitlis as if the orchestra and conductor weren’t there. And why would you want to see anyone else? The man was fascinating. His performances, in my opinion, were uneven. Sometimes his playing was hoarse, rushed, even bizarre. However, his performance here is commanding, with an edge to his tone, a yell in his vibrato, and a chiseled precision in his attack that are all addicting.

Many years ago, a bulky envelop came in the mail from my Aunt Jan. Inside was the arts section of the San Francisco Chronicle with a large, front page reproduction of a painting by Piet Mondrian (1872–1944): white, red, and yellow squares and rectangles outlined in black. Mondrian was having something of a moment in the art world then. Aunt Jan attached a note, the upshot of which was, “Will somebody please explain to me what is so great about this stuff?!” I’m not sure why she thought of me as the person likely to offer an answer. Anyway, Mondrian did make realistic paintings before he merged into his abstract lane. I had never seen one until I stumbled across this image today. I think it’s wonderful. His squares and rectangles have grown on me too.

The radical left and the liberal left are deeply divided. There have been watershed years on the left before, in which radicals betrayed their liberal allies in colleges, unions, and political parties, seeking to destroy their competitors for power. These periods sent many liberals, shocked by the ferocity of their…

A week ago, Ross Douthat published an essay called, “How Michel Foucault Lost the Left and Won the Right.” His analysis added to a story I’ve been following since 2008 — or perhaps a position I am taking. Populists on the right have increasingly adopted the tactics and presuppositions of…

Today, as I thought of our servicemen and women who died for our country, I remembered this haunting song by Charles Ives from 1917, when America entered World War I. Here are the words that Ives wrote for “Tom Sails Away.” Scenes from my childhood are with me, I’m in…

There are many artists I’ve had a hard time connecting with instinctively. Sometimes I sit with a work by one of these artists, in this case Turner, and look it more carefully. It’s pretty rewarding. Today, what I saw first in this watercolor was its intense and violent movement. Then, I spotted the lighthouse referred to in the title. You might be forgiven for not noticing it, which is part of the narrative power of this image. Probably the pilot of the wreck in the foreground didn’t notice it either. Finally, I saw the birds soaring away as if nothing very important happened here. All at once, I connected with Turner.