Loading Video . . . Ileana Santamaria's work of poetry responds to the theme of "Friend," inspired by several passages of scripture: Song of Songs 5:16; John 8:12; 14:6; 15:13. Song of Solomon 5:16 John 8:12 John 14:6 John 15:13 where these things forever spring By Ileana Santamaria ​ Credits: Music Composed by Kamel Boutros Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts 2012 ​ ​ Poetry / Spoken Word Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ Borrowing the beautiful words of the Shulamite and juxtaposing them with Jesus’ words about sacrificial love as the ultimate expression of friendship, I’ve attempted in this piece to stand in the sometimes uncertain, heady place where erotic, romantic love and other-seeking friendly devotion joyfully unite to create the “haven in a heartless world” that was and is a reality for the Shulamite and Solomon and for so many others. The character here is exuberantly and optimistically getting ahead of herself as it remains unclear whether her friend desires to be her beloved. She wishes to be the Shulamite and to love her beloved as woman and with a Christ-like, sacrificial love that rejoices in their ultimate hope, together, even while still on earth – how much more so upon return to the “true country” (and here I’ve borrowed liberally from C.S. Lewis and Tim Keller, authors to whom my intellectual and spiritual debt is great). This is an invitation – simple, joyful and not a little wistful, childlike, and completely vulnerable – to take the hand of one who dares to love him and embark together on the great adventure of our journey back to the Throne of God. The piece was initially intended to be only spoken word, but Kamel Boutros, a friend and musical collaborator who has set my poems to music in the past, suggested that parts of the piece should be sung and wrote a lovely melody that highlighted the central themes of vulnerability and childlike joy nicely. He also accompanied the sung parts. My sincere thanks go out to him for contributing his great talent, creativity, and time. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Ileana Santamaría began the performing artist life as an aspiring Latin singer over a decade ago, embarking on the long journey of fulfilling an aspiration rooted in an eclectic, music-filled childhood. After much meandering, following (mostly unwittingly) where the Lord led, she happened upon a voice teacher that opened up her voice and found beauty in it, a surprise to Ileana, who had long struggled with vocal technique and producing healthy, beautiful sound. While waiting for the surprise of getting to sing, her Heavenly Father bestowed upon her many other gracious gifts – a knack for foreign languages, work in an international organization, friends from many countries and walks of life, and a talent for and enjoyment of crafting spoken word poetry, which Ileana first dabbled in producing and performing in her college years. Website Ileana Santamaria About the Artist Ileana Santamaria Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art my beloved… and my friend. not a means to this be-loving View Full Written Work where these things forever spring by Ileana Santamaria my beloved… and my friend. not a means to this be-loving but its end an end for love the greater that it would, as our Savior its incarnation did, it could lay down even life and limb and loving Him in Him we be-get love eros… agape… ever and ever the twain shall meet in you shall beat in me, my sweet my ardent and impatient heart softened by the pain, and chastened by the wait, until freed from demand and fed to fullness by its Lord of love, it can only give, can only brim, can only sate so for now let us dance take my hand, for we shan’t be long in this foreign land the real country awaits us, the true, o you, o beloved who are first and foremost friend let us delight in a love without end let us rejoice! we, the cherished little children of an ever-loving King found, by Him and by each other, hand in hand, our trail lit by the Light of the Truth on the Way! Yes, lit! by the Light of the Truth on the Way… back home to climb into His arms perfectly home, perfectly safe, perfectly loved where it is forever spring where these things forever spring Close Loading Video . . . my beloved… and my friend. not a means to this be-loving Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . The almost-human creature created by artist Blake Myers for his work, "Island," elicits a plea for unity amidst isolation in response to Proverbs 27:17. Proverbs 27:17 Island By Blake Myers ​ Credits: ​ Curated by: Evelyn Lewis 2016 70 x 22 x 12 inches Video, Plaster, Steel, Plastic, Extension cord Sculpture Primary Scripture Iron sharpens iron; so a man sharpens his friend’s countenance. Proverbs 27:17 Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ Drawing influence from the Proverbs verse, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another," I was thinking heavily about the idea of cooperation and empowerment, particularly in light of our current political climate. The being depicted is one that has been denied the love and admiration needed to build him stronger. He is a victim of the same isolationist sentiments that are currently prevailing in American politics. The moment that we are in calls for each of us to respond with compassion, to engage in difficult conversations, and to not let our individual differences become divisions. We must work to sharpen one another, just as "iron sharpens iron." Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Blake P Myers is a figurative sculptor/mixed media artist from New York City. At its most essential component his work responds to a prevailing sense of apathy that permits larger social and political issues to thrive. Using the body as a metaphor for otherness, his sculptures depict human/hybrid beings that are the result of neglect and abuse. These beautifully grotesque characters, while initially off-putting, ask the viewer to look past their outward appearances and empathize with their afflictions. Interweaving elements of mythology and science fiction into the work allows for the creation of a broader narrative. There is a duality present as each character simultaneously attempts to mask their insecurities/abnormalities yet searches for genuine acceptance. Ultimately, these mythic beings seek to foster an empathy that can extend to very real circumstances and very real people. Website Blake Myers About the Artist Blake Myers Other Works By Blake Myers, Island Blake Myers, Island Detail Related Information View More Art Make More Art ​ View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . ​ Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . This rich short story by public historian and author Sara Makeba Daise provides for the reader a taste of Revelation 1:1-3. Revelation 1:1-3 Blessed Are We By Sara Makeba Daise ​ Credits: Featured Image by English Purcell Curated by: Marlanda Dekine 2019 ​ ​ Historical Fiction Short Story Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ Before even choosing this text, I knew that I would like whatever illumination I offered to be grounded in Womanist theology. I choose to center Black women and the people who are most marginalized in all that I do. The short story I told is historical fiction, based on real-life events in my hometown of Beaufort, SC. Black and white people gathered on New Year’s day to hear the Emancipation Proclamation being read aloud. And when I thought about Revelations and the idea around this earth-shattering message from God, I wanted to imagine a message with that level of severity being offered in real life. I know many people think of the Bible as fiction. As a Public Historian, I know many people think of the history of American slavery as fiction. In both cases, the stories of Black queer people, trans people, non-binary people, cis women, disabled, and other marginalized folks are rarely centered. Rarely given reverence. So this was me re-imaging a story I’ve heard my parents tell countless times about free people on St. Helena Island. The idea that the message, and the messenger, and those who received the message were all blessed. And that this message would change the world. I wanted to push that further to say, if we were centering the voices of the most marginalized from the beginning, we’d all be all the more blessed. Jesus, as I have understood him, was a champion of the most marginalized. Sandy and Hurriya are fictional. But Black people being born free into an unfree world is not. I believe liberation is possible. I believe Heaven on Earth is possible. I believe that those who came before us are waiting for us to remember the Love and Light we come from. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ As a Cultural History Interpreter and Public Historian, Sara ’s work connects past, present, and future in accessible, healing, and liberating ways. Her research and praxis include Gullah Geechee women, Womanism, Black Feminism, Afrofuturism, queerness, sexual freedom, Black affirmations, and the power to imagine and manifest better worlds. Sara is a Program Assistant for The Charles Joyner Institute for Gullah Geechee & African Diaspora Studies at Coastal Carolina University. She was one of the 4 original Interpretive Aides at Mcleod Plantation Historic Site in Charleston, SC when it opened to the public in 2014. She is a living historian with the Slave Dwelling Project. She is also a Digital Archivist for Real Black Grandmothers, an online archive centering the stories of Black Grandmothers throughout the diaspora. A native of Beaufort, SC, She earned her B.A. in Communication with a minor in African American Studies from the College of Charleston, and she received her M.A. in Public History from Union Institute & University. Sara is one of the 2018 recipients of the Brian Webb Award for Outstanding MA Thesis in History & Culture. Website Sara Makeba Daise About the Artist Sara Makeba Daise Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art It was warm that day. Unreasonably warm for New Years in Beaufort, SC. Damp air blew in off the saltwater. View Full Written Work Blessed Are We by Sara Makeba Daise It was warm that day. Unreasonably warm for New Years in Beaufort, SC. Damp air blew in off the saltwater. The sweet, salty scent from the marsh filled everyone's noses. It was still early as they gathered. In hundreds. Black and white. Free and formerly enslaved. The spirits of The Ones who 'd been there centuries before were also present. Watching. Those alive and in their bodies gathered under that big oak tree on Smith Plantation. One woman, Sandy, wore her daughter Hurriya wrapped to her body in Mama Venus' old shawl as she walked deliberately toward the growing crowd. Venus hadn't been her real mama. Sandy's real mama had been sold when Sandy was just a lee gal. Ain nothin but 5 years old. Mama Venus had swept in, like the old folks do, bringing the young Sandy into her own cabin on Laurel Plantation, a cabin that she shared with her sister Osha, and three other kids. All girls. It was rare in some places. A cabin full of women-folk. But rare things often happened on St. Helena Island. The folks there expected the unexpected. Expected the rare. "What a day, Riri. What a day." Sandy murmured into Hurriya's ear. The two had arrived on foot, like most of the other Black people in attendance. Some had walked for miles from nearby plantations. Sandy and Riri, too, had made the walk from the plantation where Riri had been born. Hurriya was big enough to walk, but the closer they'd gotten to the growing crowd, Sandy had chosen to pick her up again. It wasn't fear she'd felt. But excitement. A stirring in her spirit. And affirmation. And she wanted to feel her baby's heartbeat close to her own. They gathered today to celebrate the proud Black US troops. And to hear that man Brisbane read them freedom words from Lincoln. William Henry Brisbane, a Baptist minister and former slave owner, had seen the sin rooted in his ways, sold all of his slaves and moved to Ohio. Becoming an avid abolitionist, he later returned to the South, repurchasing and freeing all but one of his former slaves. And it was he who was given the great honor of reading the Emancipation Proclamation to the people who built this nation with their bodies. "That on the first day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any State or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free; and the Executive Government of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of such persons, and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, or any of them, in any efforts they may make for their actual freedom." Sandy and many others on the Sea Islands had been "free" for months. Since the day of the Big Gun Shoot. White masters had fled with their families, trying to escape the Union army. Sandy had almost been snatched up that day--her Master Long violently pleading that the women and girls in Mama Venus' cabin pack up and leave with them. "You ungrateful Black wenches!" Long yelled angrily. "This war don't mean nothin! Lincoln don't mean nothin! You still belong to me, and I said ‚'Get yerselves together and come on!'" Mama Venus had looked unbothered by his rage, and communicated silently to Sandy and the others that they were not to move. Sitting in front of the open fire in their cabin, Venus just kept stirring a large pot of something faint, staring into the flames as if she couldn't hear anything. Long had left shortly after. Venus hadn't threatened him. Hadn't acknowledged him at all. His own fear or a world he couldn't explain sent him and his family along with a caravan of other white plantation owners. Attempting to outrun the root of their lies. The costs of their delusions. Sandy, Venus, and thousands of others had BEEN free for months. Free when the Union came. Free when the masters left. Free when Union troops began raiding abandoned plantation communities for able-bodied Black men to fight in the war. Pillaging for women to service their wants and needs. Free when the abolitionists and missionaries brought education and contempt for their ancient ways of knowing. Free. But Lincoln had called them "contraband." Today that was different. Brisbane read: And I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be free to abstain from all violence, unless in necessary self-defence; and I recommend to them that, in all cases when allowed, they labor faithfully for reasonable wages. And I further declare and make known, that such persons of suitable condition, will be received into the armed service of the United States to garrison forts, positions, stations, and other places, and to man vessels of all sorts in said service. And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and the gracious favor of Almighty God. The crowd at Smith Plantation had grown to the thousands. Black and white. The Sea Islanders, the formerly enslaved dressed in their finest wares. Aprons crisp and white. Brightly colored headwraps. Their Gullah language spoken quickly and with passion. Anyone from out of town who might've heard the Sea Islanders' creole, seen the ocean of shining, Black faces, might've wondered what part of Africa they'd stumbled upon. Sandy listened intently to the proclamation, sifting through its meaning. She waited to feel seen by those bringing this long, long-awaited message. Waited for the words to match some truth she knew. And then a young man's voice broke through the crowd, piercing through the excited chatter. "My country 'tis of thee..." There was a hush. And a murmur as the young man sang. As if encouraged by those unseen spirits, other newly free Sea Islanders joined in his song. "Sweet land of liberty..." Sun shown on her face, and the face of her baby as Sandy, too, added her voice to the thousands. The song felt like a long exhale. "Land where our fathers died." Sandy sang... Thinking of Venus. Thinking of her mama. Carved out her space in time as she sang. "Let freedom ring..." Even if only remembered by her daughter. Hurriyya. No longer slave. No longer contraband. Sandy and Hurriyya were free. Their people were free. Free. She wept. Shuddered as the eloquent and prickly words washed over and through her. Other people hugged loved ones close. Men did not attempt to hide their tears. The crowd swayed and shook. Their words lifted, swirling and spiraling around the egrets whose wings flapped, seemingly bringing the voices higher. And higher. Free. Sandy smiled. Finally feeling seen. Tears slid down her cheeks, pooling in the kinky hair of her daughter. Her daughter Hurriya who knew. Who'd known before the white man came and read the words that caused her mama's heart to thump thump thump. Hurriya had known before she came to her mama. Before she'd swam around inside her. Sharing blood. Nutrients. Breath. Before being born into government-sanctioned slavery. She'd known before all of this. Came here knowing. Came here free. No. This white man hadn't brought her any new information. Lincoln wasn't offering some new perspective. They were born free. Born free into a world where folks had decided based on some supposed divine authority, that they were slaves. Hurriya giggled as the harmonies soared around and over her, reminding her of the home and love she came from. Her mama's tears reminded her of things she knew. Things she'd come here to teach. Ignited. Charged. Message received from messenger. "Free" she gurgled to herself. "Free" her mama said back. And everything around them affirmed this message. "Free to be as we are," the birds seemed to sing. "Free to be as bright as I was created to be", the sun seemed to shine. "I came into this world with everything I'll ever need," sang the birds above the crowd. "I am not to be owned. My presence is a present. A gift," spoke the grass. "We belong to no one. We are connected to everything and attached to nothing. We are one." The trees stared. "I am limitless space," the sky exhaled. And Blessed were those who gathered there. To feel everything around them affirm their freedom. And Blessed are free Black women, whose liberation necessitates the destruction of every form of oppression. Sources: Conley, Casey. "'Oh, Freedom': Hundreds gather in Beaufort to mark the 150th anniversary of slavery's end." The Beaufort Gazette, January 1, 2013. https://www.islandpacket.com/news/local/community/beaufort-news/article33493509.html Transcript of Emancipation Proclamation (1863). https://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=false&doc=34&page=transcript Close Loading Video . . . It was warm that day. Unreasonably warm for New Years in Beaufort, SC. Damp air blew in off the saltwater. Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Creative writer Seth Villegas explores the aftermath of the old prophet's lie in his short story, "The Old Prophet Stands," based off of 1 Kings 13. 1 Kings 13 The Old Prophet Stands By Seth Villegas ​ Credits: ​ Curated by: Rebecca Testrake 2016 ​ ​ Short Story Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ When reading the Bible, certain stories tend to stick with you. The story of the “Man of God from Judah” in 1 Kings 13 has stuck with me for a long time. As an aspiring Christian leader, this story has always bothered me. I still have trouble seeing why a person in a position of influence would deliberately mislead someone else, especially in a religious context. The story that I have written in response to this story contains many of my own reservations about the old prophet. Perhaps that is how the story ended up being one focused on generational reconciliation. While I am sure that is not all this story is about, it has to end for me with the reunification of father and son in the actual roles that they inhabit. Within the current Christian sphere, there continues to be a tension between the generations of people that makeup the church. 1 Kings 13 seems to show just how much damage one generation can do to another. But I also think it also shows just how much the younger generation yearns for support. In the end, we need one another. As Jesus himself said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Seth Villegas is a creative writer and arts organizer living in the greater Pasadena area. He grew up fascinated by stories, most notably the mundane and fantastical stories told to him by his father. He wrote his first short stories in high school and has continued to write regularly ever since. In college at Stanford University, Seth took every creative writing class available to him, including a seminar taught by Pulitzer Prize winning author Adam Johnson. He feels that he best expresses himself in prose, though he sometimes works in poetry and drama. In his current work, Seth seeks to articulate the tension between pain and possibility. For Christians, these possibilities are rooted in a hope in God. This is not an easy hope, however, because we must still acknowledge our pain and our failures to find it. His stories try to draw out these themes in the lives of his characters. Seth is currently finishing up his master’s degree at Fuller Theological Seminary and hopes to pursue doctoral studies in the area of theology, science, and technology. Website Seth Villegas About the Artist Seth Villegas Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art An old man rides into the city on a donkey. A staff rests across his lap and a young man leads the donkey through the city gates. View Full Written Work The Old Prophet Stands by Seth Villegas An old man rides into the city on a donkey. A staff rests across his lap and a young man leads the donkey through the city gates. Once they get to the city square, the young man helps the old man down off the donkey and onto a stone platform, one perhaps as old as the city itself. Standing halfway between the temple and the city gates, the old man raises the staff over his head to address the crowd. “Test the prophets! Is that not what we are told in the To’rah? Test the prophets!” says the old man. His voice rings out but his raised arm shakes. The bustle of the people appears undisturbed. The old man sees that the young man is watering the donkey from a nearby well. “Does the prophet’s message not stand? Shall you continue on as if he were never here?” The old man notices the people of the Book strolling through the crowd from the direction of the city gates. They wear long gowns and tassels. Their attention is focused forward as they pass between the well and the stone platform. “Do not act as if you do not know of whom I speak,” the old man continues, “the man of God from Judah, the prophet who rebuked the king in his own chambers!” One of the men of the book turns toward the platform and spits on the ground. The donkey screeches. The young man pets the donkey’s neck, looking up at the men of the Book. “He knew the Lord spoke,” says the old man. He raises his voice as the men of the Book near the far side of the city square. “I lied to him just as you continue to lie to your king! “But I am guiltier than you,” he continues, “because I pretended to be what he most wanted in a hostile land: an ally, a colleague, a kindred spirit…a father.” The men of the Book enter the temple. A section of the crowd follows them in. “His prophecy was not just to protect him from you nor even from the king, but to protect him from me,” he says. “Me, the man he should have been able to trust.” The old man looks at the younger man, but the younger man does not return his gaze. The younger man continues to pet the donkey. “When had I changed so much that I could not longer recognize a move of God when it was before me? But as the donkey and the lion sat next to the prophet’s corpse, it was a sign against me just as it is now a sign against you. “Priests! I have no temple; I have no courts. King! I have no armies; I have no crowns! But let me now be a sign against you for this prophecy shall come to pass: should you continue as you are, your kingdom and your house cannot stand.” The old man tries to raise his staff again, but instead it breaks his fall as he drops to one knee, his face wet and hot. The younger man pushes through the crowd of gawkers that has gathered around the old man. Once he gets to the platform, the old man stops him with a raised hand. “I cannot bury anymore prophets,” he says, looking at the young man. He manages to stand. “I cannot bury any more of my sons. The cost…is too high.” The younger man urges the old man down from the platform. The old man stumbles again as he reaches the ground. The younger man holds his arm out and the old man takes it. They walk together through the crowd to the well and the donkey. The young man helps the old man onto the donkey. As they leave, various people come to the younger man to ask if he and the old man would like to stay the night. But in each instance, the younger man looks back to the old man and declines. The old man says nothing. The two travel together through the night, away from the city back to their small village. Along the way, they stop at the tomb of their ancestors to offer a prayer. They finish the final leg of their journey as father and son. Close Loading Video . . . An old man rides into the city on a donkey. A staff rests across his lap and a young man leads the donkey through the city gates. Download Full Written Work

! Loading Video . . . Actor and sound designer Matt Bittner presents an intriguing musical exploration of the meal Zacchaeus shared with Jesus, and the change it had upon his life. This work is in response to the theme of "meals" as inspired by Luke 19:1-10. Luke 19:1-10 Fellowship, Food, and Redemption By Matt Bittner ​ Credits: Written and recorded by Matt Bittner Artist Location: Ridgewood, Queens Curated by: Aaron Kruziki 2014 ​ ​ ​ Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ ! Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ ! Website Matt Bittner About the Artist Matt Bittner Other Works By ! Related Information View More Art Make More Art ​ View Full Written Work ! Close Loading Video . . . ​ Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . In this final post, completing a poetry collection responding to every theme from the year, 2013 Artist in Residence Emily Ruth Hazel brings us a beautiful poem in reflection of the theme of "Memory" and Jonah 2:5-7 as a 2013 Spark+Echo Artist in Residence. Jonah 2:5-7 Undressing Prayer By Emily Ruth Hazel ​ Credits: Photo Credit: Justin T. Shockley Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts, 2013 Artist in Residence 2013 ​ ​ Poetry/Spoken Word Primary Scripture The waters surrounded me, even to the soul. The deep was around me. The weeds were wrapped around my head. I went down to the bottoms of the mountains. The earth barred me in forever: yet have you brought up my life from the pit, Yahweh my God. “When my soul fainted within me, I remembered Yahweh. My prayer came in to you, into your holy temple. Jonah 2:5-7 Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ It's been a privilege to journey through 2013 with Spark and Echo Arts, responding to each of this year's six themes as a Resident Artist. For this last piece on Memory, I was inspired by the biblical story of Jonah: specifically, his prayer from inside the whale that swallowed him (and became the vehicle of a second chance to fulfill his calling). I drew from my own memories as well—my experiences as an editor and as a college student before that, as someone on a continual quest for quiet who likes sitting in empty churches, and as a New Yorker fascinated by the daily mix of clothing styles worn by people from all walks of life. I'm interested in how what we wear reveals something about who we are, and in how frequently we connect with people (or don't) on that basis. Likewise, I wanted to explore how dressing God "in our own [human] image" can lead us to dangerously inaccurate perceptions of human/divine relationships, and on the flip side, how humanizing God can give us fresh perspectives that bring the spiritual within reach. (Of course, that kind of exploration requires acknowledging the gap—or chasm—between our limited understanding and who God actually is.) One of the images that came to me is from the publishing world. Back when editors' offices had narrow windows over the doors (often left open for air), writers sometimes submitted unsolicited manuscripts by tossing them "over the transom"—hence the phrase still used today. I've heard of a similar practice among musicians and would-be DJs eager for airtime on college radio stations. Artistically and spiritually, I can identify with the hopefuls looking to break in. As I was thinking about ways in and ways of reframing tradition, I was reminded of my occasional encounters with the Book of Common Prayer, which is used in Anglican church services. I also recalled a term I hadn't heard of until recently: Ordinary Time, which in the Christian liturgical calendar refers to all the months between Advent/Christmas and Lent/Easter. While certain seasons point us toward remembrance in more obvious ways, as a poet, I'm most interested in what we hold onto in the ordinary in-betweens. To remember is to return internally to a place we've been, to an image or idea, to an impression of or relationship with someone. Jonah's prayer inside the belly of the whale—"When my life was ebbing away, I remembered you, Lord"—is an expression of returning. And at its essence, every prayer is a return: to ourselves and to God, to a belief, or simply to a sense of gratitude. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Emily Ruth Hazel is a poet, writer, and cross-pollinator who is passionate about diversifying the audience for poetry and giving voice to people who have been marginalized. Selected as the Honorary Poet for the 25th Annual Langston Hughes Community Poetry Reading in Providence, Rhode Island, she presented a commissioned tribute to the Poet Laureate of Harlem in February of 2020. She is a two-time recipient of national Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Prizes and was awarded a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship for a residency at The Hambidge Center in 2014. Her chapbook, Body & Soul (Finishing Line Press, 2005) , was a New Women’s Voices finalist. Emily’s work has appeared in numerous anthologies, magazines, literary journals, and digital projects, including Kinfolks: A Journal of Black Expression and Magnolia: A Journal of Women’s Socially Engaged Literature. Her poetry has also been featured on music albums, in a hair salon art installation, and in a science museum exhibition. Emily has written more than twenty commissioned works for organizations, arts productions, social justice projects, and private clients. Currently, she is developing several poetry book manuscripts and writing lyrics for an original musical inspired by the life of the extraordinary singer and Civil Rights icon Marian Anderson. A graduate of Oberlin College’s Creative Writing Program and a former New Yorker, she is now based in the Los Angeles area. EmilyRuthHazel.com Instagram: @EmilyRuthHazel Facebook.com/EmilyRuthHazel Website Emily Ruth Hazel About the Artist Artist in Residence 2013, Emily Ruth Hazel Word of Mouth In the Wake of the Storm Circling the Waist of Wisdom Give Me a Name Homecoming Runaway Give Us This Day Emily Ruth Hazel Other Works By Explore the other works composed throughout the year in Emily's poetry collection, created as a 2013 Artist in Residence . Explore her works created throughout the year: “In the Wake of the Storm” LIGHT AND DARKNESS (JANUARY 21, 2013) “Circling the Waist of Wisdom” FOOLS (APRIL 26, 2013) “Homecoming” DANCING (JUNE 27, 2013) “Runaway” LIES (AUGUST 8, 2013) “Give Us This Day” HARVEST (NOVEMBER 14, 2013) “Undressing Prayer” MEMORY (JANUARY 6, 2013) Artists in Residence Spark+Echo Artists in Residence spend a year developing and creating a major work in response to Scripture. Click on their names to view their projects. Current Artists in Residence Spark+Echo Arts seeks to develop and support communities of artists who engage with and create in response to the Bible. Due to the impacts of COVID-19 and some internal changes, we decided to pause the Artist in Residency for a year so that we could regroup our resources. Our hope is to continue offering this opportunity in 2021. Previous Artists in Residence 2020 Sapient Soul, Marlanda Dekine (Poetry + Spoken Word) 2019 Lancelot Schaubert (Short Story) 2018 Elias Popa (Installation Art) 2017 Aaron Beaumont (Music), Lily Maase (Music) 2016 Ebitenyefa Baralaye (Visual Art), Chris Knight (Film), Lauren Ferebee (Theatre), Stephanie Miracle (Dance) 2015 Benje Daneman (Music), Jason DaSilva (Film), Melissa Beck (Visual Art), Don Nguyen (Theatre), Christine Suarez (Dance), The Spark & Echo Band (Music) 2013 Nicora Gangi (Visual Art), Emily Ruth Hazel (Poetry) Related Information View More Art Make More Art As the one who turns the wheels inside our minds, behind the sky—the shifter and shaker of galaxies—is upstairs getting dressed in our own image View Full Written Work Undressing Prayer by Emily Ruth Hazel As the one who turns the wheels inside our minds, behind the sky—the shifter and shaker of galaxies—is upstairs getting dressed in our own image, God becomes a brand name proudly worn by a loud, forgetful people, though it clashes with their actions. A label others can’t afford to own, or dismiss as someone else’s style. And what is the founder changing into? Just another suit stiff from the hanger, second skin of a CEO who flies home to a mansion on a mountain of clouds, barely glancing through gleaming glass floors between prime time shows? What if God came down in everyday jeans and a t-shirt, at work invisible to us, like a radio DJ, a speaker of the air whom everyone and no one knows? Would God wear corduroy, a blazer with elbow patches, large feet propped up on a desk containing continents mapped with coffee stains, pushing papers off the back edge—another accidental avalanche? What if God is digging through the geologic strata of waiting pages, an editor who sees the sun-spark in our layers of schist, opens our hearts with a red pen of dynamite, then helps us in laying new foundations and moves us into the stories we are meant to inhabit? Thirsty for purpose, the brave ask for interviews, pitch their manuscripts and mixtapes over the transom, hoping someone will read their thoughts, listen to their midnight music. As for me, I worry that I’ll burn through some unspoken quota, wear out my welcome with the magnanimous powers that be. Rarely do I send an SOS, unless the bluff on which I’ve built my life is eaten away by the waves’ relentless hunger—stalling till I am poised to plunge into the ocean. One college semester, I drifted miles from shore, breath spent treading water, before I finally raised my arms, ready to be thrown a rescue ring from any passing boat. Washed up on the doorstep of an Econ professor, seaweed tangled in my throat, I stood outside mustering my nerve, scripting an appeal for an extension I knew I didn’t deserve. Minutes later, I walked back to my dorm bowled over by his Yes. And so it is during God’s infinite office hours in the four-chambered chapel of the heart. While thumbing through the days of Common Prayer, the book of Ordinary Time, a conversation picks up where it left off. The undressed approach: simply confessing a need, a lack of answers, a yearning to kneel on a cushion of grace instead of the bare stone floor. As I prepare to enter in, to strip down to the struggle, to unclasp all my anxieties, sometimes still I hesitate, knuckles to the wood. But even before I knock, from somewhere deep within, I hear a voice as solid as black walnut benches, luminous like turning pages, calling, as if not for the first time, Come in—the door’s unlocked. Close Loading Video . . . As the one who turns the wheels inside our minds, behind the sky—the shifter and shaker of galaxies—is upstairs getting dressed in our own image Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . The band Lowland Hum created The Father for Spark and Echo Arts in response to the theme of "poverty" and 1 John 1:5, 2:4-11. 1 John 1:5 1 John 2:4-11 The Father By Lowland Hum ​ Credits: Written and recorded by Lowland Hum Artist Location: Charlottesville, Virginia Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2014 ​ ​ ​ Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ "The Father" was written on a day off during our first cross country tour. As we read through the scripture in 1 John, a few ideas struck and inspired us. The passage dramatically draws attention to the disparity between our identity as children of God and the way we treat one another. The subject that we were assigned by Spark and Echo was "poverty" and as we read the scripture we recognized our own poverty in a profound way. How can you say you love the father if you hate your brother who is made in His image? It is so easy for us to take a self-protective stance, putting others down, even if its just in our minds, to escape our own darkness and inadequacy. The story of this song is written in hopes of drawing attention to the lack inherent in our love for one another, especially in our families. At the end of the song, we hope to refocus on the freeing and glorious character of God, our only way toward wholeness. In the contrary way of Jesus, we aim to tear our eyes from our inadequacy and to dwell on His goodness and overabundance. In this act we are on the path toward healing, change and we are given the strength to love. In our poverty, He is rich. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Lowland Hum is wife and husband team Lauren and Daniel Goans. Together they invite their listeners to share in the space of vulnerable intimacy they have formed over years of steady collaboration. In the live setting, the duo offers an immersive experience of thoughtful songcraft interspersed with audience interaction and extemporaneous songs about the day's happenings. Their recordings take listeners on a journey through relatable, imagistic poetry exploring themes of memory, longing, confession and identity, and drawing attention to often unnoticed resonances of the everyday. Daniel and Lauren are a prolific, two-person creative factory basing their operation in Charlottesville, Virginia. They write, arrange and produce all of their own music, and have honed a cohesive design aesthetic to match the hushed simplicity of their sound. The duo's beginning starts with Daniel, a songwriter, performer and producer from North Carolina. Daniel and Lauren’s creative worlds first collided one hot, Greensboro summer in 2010 when Daniel asked Lauren to design the album art for a solo record he was working on. Having once heard Lauren singing to herself at a party, he eventually coaxed her into singing some harmonies on that same album. This was Lauren's first experience with recording. Previously, her performance experience consisted of her middle and high school chorus classes, which, in her own words, provided her with a strong connection to melody and harmony in a context that was well-suited to her shy disposition. Initially, Lauren performed with Daniel, singing harmonies on songs he had written, but within a year or so, the two began cowriting and arranging virtually all of the material together. Lowland Hum formed officially in 2012, a few months after the two were married and their collaboration deepened. In the years following the release of their critically acclaimed debut Native Air (2013), the duo has tirelessly toured the country, spending more time on the road than at home. In 2014 they followed up their debut with Four Sisters , a conceptual EP and video series, and then, in 2015, they released their eponymous sophomore full-length album, garnering a slew of praise, including an NPR First Listen. Lowland Hum has performed in diverse settings all over the country ranging from folk festivals, art museums and theaters to living rooms and gardens. During their time off the road, Daniel produces albums for other bands. Lauren's background in visual art asserts itself in the duo's collaboration significantly. She has created all of the band's artwork and design as well as several transportable installation pieces that served as additions to the band’s live performances. She is also responsible for an impressive collection of music videos often using found footage from public domain archives. Over the years, Lauren has designed five editions of handmade lyric books that the duo passes out to audiences so they can read along and interact more deeply with the lyrical content of their songs if they so choose. Lowland Hum's songs have been described as poetic and evocative, and their arrangements minimal, hushed and dynamic. They continue to attract a growing body of listeners around the world. Daniel and Lauren spent the summer of 2016 creating their third full-length album in a friend's attic. The album, Thin , came out on February 10, 2017, and is their "deepest collaboration to date" according to the band. They completed a nationwide headline tour, sharing the stage with the likes of Josh Ritter, Jesca Hoop and Penny and Sparrow along the way. After playing a handful of festivals this summer, the band will embark on a nationwide tour supporting Penny and Sparrow in the fall followed directly by a five week European tour. www.lowlandhum.com Website Lowland Hum About the Artist Lowland Hum Other Works By The Father by Lowland Hum 1 John 1:5, 2:4, 2:9-11 Jackie came home He doesn’t look us in the eyes He said he needs a pillow, and only for a while. Says luck is hard to find these days Especially when you got a bad name He’s covering his face And hiding his darkness in the barn. How can I say That I know the Father When I hate my brother For things he doesn’t do Gloria counting down the years The world has gone and left her While she’s cleaning up the dinner Wonders what her life could be Inherited the homestead She hates it but she won’t change a thing so there’re smiles on the faces of all of her siblings and her nieces and nephews will run where she ran They’ll all blow in like Christmas and then leave the house empty Again How can I say That I know the Father When I hate my sister For what she doesn’t have Our Father is light No shadows at all Related Information View More Art Make More Art ​ View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . ​ Download Full Written Work

suarez_final.jpg Loading Video . . . I plan on making a duet for two women inspired by the Book of Ruth. I imagine it will be around 20 minutes in length. I’m still in the reading, thinking and dreaming stage of my process. I will begin rehearsals in early May. I’m eager to get into the studio with these two dancers to begin our physical investigation. Find the complete progression of the work linked below. Ruth 1:16-17 Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Part 1 By Christine Suarez ​ Credits: ​ Curated by: Spark & Echo Arts, Artist in Residence 2015 2015 ​ ​ Dance Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ March 23, 2015 I plan on making a duet for two women inspired by the Book of Ruth. I imagine it will be around 20 minutes in length. I’m still in the reading, thinking and dreaming stage of my process. I will begin rehearsals in early May. I’m eager to get into the studio with these two dancers to begin our physical investigation. Months ago my neighbor happened to tell me about a song her Rabbi sings. Ruth’s words: “Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.” It brought tears to me eyes. What beautiful faith! What conviction! That was my entry point for this work – moved by a complete willingness to give everything up for another. I find the story of Ruth and Naomi fascinating in many ways. I’m deeply moved by Ruth’s unrelenting loyalty and by Naomi’s feelings of forsaken abandonment from God. I wonder how these can exist side by side. What is each of their motivations? Ruth expresses her emotions nakedly to Naomi – pledging her undying devotion and willingness to give everything up for her. And Naomi basically ignores her or rather does not accept Ruth’s pledges as any comfort. Naomi repeatedly publicly expresses how she is alone (“the hand of the Lord is against me”). The end of the story does not resolve this tension. It is left very open to interpretation. I am curious about the structural composition to the Book as well. There are two moments of formal poetry within the Book: Ruth’s devotional speech and Naomi’s declaration of desertion upon entering Bethlehem. How are these two moments of poetry in dialogue with each other? I’m reading many interpretation of this story: Jewish scholars, humanity scholars and Christian scholars. I’m looking at classical art inspired by the story including works by William Blake. The more I read, the more questions I have. Is this a political parable? Is it a story of mystical symbolism? What is the significance of the poetry vs. the prose within the Book? How are these questions going to translate into a dance-theater work? I don’t totally know. But I do know that as a creator I need to deeply connect with my subject matter. I can relate more to Naomi’s struggle and her blindness to the gifts that Ruth is offering her. I have felt very, very alone at points in my life unable to connect with God (and other people). In fact I have at times felt like God was punishing me. At this point I am most interested in the relationship of Ruth and Naomi and each of their internal emotional landscapes. Together with the dancers, we will start by finding ways to physicalize these emotional landscapes. We will work towards translating the relationship of these two women into the corporeal using space, time and sound. I can’t wait to share more of my process with you. It is such a privilege. Thank you! If you have any thoughts or responses, please feel free to email me at suarezdance@gmail.com. Samples of Christine’s previous work: From Mother , Photo by Christine Suarez From Mother, Photo by Lori Teague From Motherhood Redux, Photo by Thomas Cox From Dances in Public Parks, Photo by Paul Antico From Spark and Echo Arts: The joy of our heart has ceased; Our dance has turned into mourning. An Excerpt from Mother Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Christine Suarez is a Los Angeles-based choreographer, performer and educator. Born in Caracas, Venezuela and raised in Baton Rouge Louisiana, Christine made her first works of choreography to the Grease soundtrack. Since then she has created eleven evening-length dance-theater works, numerous site-specific and community events and close to a dozen dances for the theater and film, along with teaching, creating and performing at school sites all over the U.S. While living in New York City from 1994-2006, her work was presented at various venues including Danspace Project, P.S. 122, HERE, Joyce SoHo and Dixon Place. In 1998 she founded SuarezDanceTheater, a not-for-profit, ensemble of dancers, actors and musicians. SuarezDanceTheater examines the unexpected – creating dance-theater in unexpected places with unexpected people about unexpected subjects. Christine and company were Artists in Residence at Tribeca Performing Arts Center from 2003-2006. Her work has toured nationally and internationally to over 20 cities. Her work happens in theaters, houses, parks, Churches, galleries, sidewalks and beaches. She collaborates with multi-generational performers along with parents, children, veterans, high school students and teen mothers. Since relocating to Los Angeles, she has been invigorated by making dances in unexpected places. Wet Spots (2008) was a site-specific performance about female orgasm that she created in collaboration with a multi-generational cast of women. The Los Angeles Times called it “ingeniously crafted…poignant…hilarious.” She has organized community dance participatory performances in parks, beaches and classrooms in partnership with city governments, community based organizations and schools. She has also been touring Wet Spots: Solo to Tallinn, Estonia, Movement Research at Judson Church (New York City), The Garage (San Francisco), Emory University (Atlanta, GA), The A.W.A.R.D. Show! (REDCAT). Most recently she premiered her new evening length work MOTHER . at the Motion Pacific at the Santa Cruz Fringe Festival and Highways Performance Space in Santa Monica, CA. As an educator, Christine has worked at public schools all over the New York City and Los Angeles area. She has been a guest teacher/choreographer at California State University San Marcos, California State University Los Angeles, Emory University, Indiana University, Southeastern University of Louisiana and Louisiana State University. She holds an MFA in choreography from UCLA’s World Arts and Cultures Department and a BA in Theater and English Literature from Emory University. She is a government contractor co-creating a dance program for Veterans at The School for Better Living, a psycho-social research initiative a the West Los Angeles VA Hospital. She also works as a teaching artist with the HeArt Project. She has been awarded grants from the Center for Cultural Innovation, Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, Puffin Foundation, Meet the Composer, the Association for Hispanic Arts, JP Morgan Chase Regrant, the Field and the 92nd Street Y Harkness Dance Center. She is honored to be a Hispanic Scholarship Fund/Cheech Marin Endowed Scholarship Scholar and recipient of the Hispanic Scholarship Fund McNamara Family Creative Arts Projects Grant. (Photo by CedarBough Saeji) www.suarezdance.org Website Christine Suarez About the Artist Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Part 2 Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Part 3 The joy of our heart has ceased; Our dance has turned into mourning. Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Christine Suarez Other Works By Follow the developmental journey of Christine's project by reading her second , third and final post written over the course of the year. Related Information View More Art Make More Art ​ View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . ​ Download Full Written Work

! Loading Video . . . This rich song by Peter Mawanga draws jointly from the beautiful cultural heritage of Malawi and from Habakkuk 1:2-5. Habakkuk 1:2-5 NDAUPENYA By Peter Mawanga ​ Credits: Written, Composed, Performed by Peter Mawanga Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2018 ​ ​ ​ Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ ! Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ ! Website Peter Mawanga About the Artist ULEMU Nambala Wani ASAMALA Peter Mawanga Other Works By ! Related Information View More Art Make More Art ​ View Full Written Work ! Close Loading Video . . . ​ Download Full Written Work

don-nyugen-air4th_first-supper-seating-layouts.jpg Loading Video . . . Hi, this is my third post for my Artist in Residency project for Spark and Echo. To recap, I chose Luke 22:14-48, which covers The Last Supper because it’s the ultimate dinner party. I’m attempting to create a communal evening of theatre, food, improvisation, and game playing based on these selected passages. Find the complete progression of the work linked below. Luke 22:14-48 Artist in Residence 2015: Don Nguyen Part 3 By Don Nguyen ​ Credits: ​ Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts, Artist in Residence 2015 ​ ​ Theatre Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ September 28, 2015 Hi, this is my third post for my Artist in Residency project for Spark and Echo. To recap, I chose Luke 22:14-48, which covers The Last Supper because it’s the ultimate dinner party. I’m attempting to create a communal evening of theatre, food, improvisation, and game playing based on these selected passages. The biggest obstacle I’m running into now is fear. The fear of it not working. The fear of it not being interesting and illuminating. And because this is the first time I’ve ever created an interactive evening of theatre, my biggest fear is whether or not I’m doing this right. Just conceptualizing the evening has shown that there are many rabbit holes to go down. I’m not worried about going down a rabbit hole, but rather am I’m worried about not going down the best rabbit hole. But then I tell myself it’s okay. Accept that fear. Instead of debilitating me, I need to let it free me. Just like how I approach writing plays, I need to give myself permission to write/create that really bad first draft. Have faith in the unknown. In my last post, I looked at the string of events occurring in the last supper. I thought that was the key to making an enthralling evening of theatre based on this iconic event. But upon further exploration, I realize now that equally if not more important is character. This is somewhat embarrassing for me to admit, since as a playwright, I should know this by now. But oftentimes it’s easy to forget, especially when you’re dealing with the Bible, which is so well known and so epic in nature. But here I am, now realizing that we need to know who these twelve apostles are, and who they were. Before Jesus asked them to follow him, they were ordinary men. Men who were not perfect, and I find this really intriguing. Perhaps the evening is about getting to know them better? In the book TWELVE ORDINARY MEN by John MacCarthur, he explains these apostles as disciples who “spanned the political spectrum. One was a former Zealot – a radical determined to overthrow Roman rule. But another has been a tax collector-virtually a traitor to the Jewish nation and in collusion with Rome. At least four and possibly seven were fishermen and close friends from Capernaum, probably having known one another from childhood.” So, I’m just going let go of my fear and make some specific decisions, regardless if they work or not. So for the first time, I’m sharing the “script” of how the evening will work. You’re at your computer. You are making a reservation for “The Supper” an interactive evening of theatre and food. You submit your reservation. You immediately receive an email confirmation, which states that you need to bring one ingredient and that will serve as your ticket. When you arrive at the performance, you check in at the front desk with your ingredient. You will be given a drink (beer, wine, soda). You are then greeted with a “garden show” performed by the actors playing the apostles. This garden show can consist of anything: songs, dance, poetry, etc. After the garden show, you can/will mingle with the actors. The actors (he or she) will not be in character. They will not tell you which apostle they are playing. You will spend fifteen minutes mingling with as many actors as possible. Bread will be passed around the room. You will break off a piece. When all the bread is broken, the dinner will begin. You are seated around “the table” and mixed in with the apostles. The chef creates a secret menu for the evening. The chef assigns each guest one ingredient to bring and how much to bring. Any guests not assigned an ingredient brings some kind of dessert to share. Three specific prompts for dinner conversation will be given. For example “taxing the rich” One of the apostles will start the conversation based on this prompt, all while giving clues as to who the apostle is. For example, the actor playing Matthew might say “you know what people hate more than tax? The person who collects it from them. That was me. The most hated man in the world.” When the conversation has covered these three prompts, the apostles line up and the guests vote on which actor is playing which apostle. So how does it end? That’s a good question. That’s something I don’t know right now. What’s clear to me is that this is going to be an ongoing process of trying it out, experimenting, and iterating through revisions. I expect the participants, both our dinner guests and our actors will play a big hand in shaping this piece, so that’s what I’ll plan for next, an actual tryout of this loose script. My hope is that my fourth post will include video footage from that trial run as well as post performance discussion. Til next time! Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Don Nguyen was born in Saigon, Vietnam, grew up in Nebraska, and now currently resides in New York City. As a playwright, Don has written several full-length plays including: SOUND, a sign language play which was a finalist for the O’Neill National Playwrights Conference and was previously developed at The Playwrights Realm. Don’s first full-length play RED FLAMBOYANT was developed at the Ojai Playwrights Conference and was both a finalist for the Bay Area Playwrights Festival as well as the O’Neill National Playwrights Conference. THE MAN FROM SAIGON has been developed at Naked Angels and was a NYSAF Founders Award recipient. THE COMMENCEMENT OF WILLIAM TAN was developed at New York Stage and Film and was a finalist for the Bay Area Playwrights Festival. Don was also recently one of 48 playwrights commissioned for The Flea Theater’s 5 1/2 hour epic production of The Mysteries, directed by Ed Iskander, which was a stage adaptation of the Bible. Don is a proud member of the Ma-Yi Writers Lab, a member of the inaugural Emerging Writers Group at the Public Theater in New York and served five years as artistic director for The Shelterbelt Theatre. Don is also a frequent volunteer for the 52nd Street Project. Website: thenuge.com Website Don Nguyen About the Artist Artist in Residence 2015: Don Nguyen Part 1 Artist in Residence 2015: Don Nguyen Part 2 Artist in Residence 2015: Don Nguyen My Million Spectacular Moments Don Nguyen Other Works By To follow the developmental process of Don's play read his first , second and final posts as a 2015 Artist in Residence. Related Information View More Art Make More Art ​ View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . ​ Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . This audio play, written by Joe Hoover, and performed by Joe Hoover and Devon Caraway explores senseless loss and was created in response to Micah 2:1-2, 8-9. Micah 2:1-2 Micah 2:8-9 Fury By Joe Hoover This play contains strong language and may not be suitable for all audiences. Credits: Written by Joseph Hoover Performed by DEV - Joseph Hoover, JUNE - Devon Caraway Curated by: Michael Markham 2017 ​ ​ ​ Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ Occasionally I have wondered if the prophets still matter. Did the coming of Christ supercede the prophets, make them irrelevant? Are they too harsh, too simplistic in their demonizing of the wealthy and powerful? Has the time for their anger and judgment passed, given Christ's message of love and mercy? I have also had for years a nagging desire to make sense of the housing crash of 2008, something which the prophets may have naturally taken an interest in. This project allowed me to take the prophet Micah and the subprime lending crisis and see if they might be relevant one to the other. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Joe Hoover is an actor and playwright. Acting credits include Malvolio in “Twelfth Night,” Peter Quince in “Midsummer,” and ensemble in “King Lear” in the Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park. Playwriting credits include “Jay and Ruby Get Religion,” at the Davenport Theatre, “The Ditch” at the John Houseman Studio Too and “The Good Life” at the Midtown International Theatre Festival. He is a Jesuit brother. (xaviertheatre.org) Devon Caraway is an actor and director based in NYC. Recent projects include: Steel Magnolias (Annelle, Cleveland Play House), Our Town (Emily, NewStage Theatre), Pericles (Bawd, Brown/Trinity Rep), Lungs (Woman, Brown/Trinity Rep), (Rosalind, NYU GRAD Summer Fest). She holds an MFA from the Brown University/Trinity Repertory Program for Acting and Directing. She is currently a member of the SDCF Directing Observership Class. Website Joe Hoover About the Artist Joe Hoover Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art ​ View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . ​ Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Canadian poet Hannah Main–van der Kamp created "Strange and Stranger Within the Gate" in response to Ruth 2:6-8 and the theme of “strangers.” Ruth 2:6-8 Strange and Stranger Within the Gate By Hannah Main-van der Kamp ​ Credits: Theme: Strangers Location: British Columbia, Canada Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts 2014 ​ ​ Poetry Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link ​ Ostensibly, this prose poem is a monologue by the Biblical Ruth. A number of different verses could be used as markers e.g Ruth 1: 19, 2:10, 4:13. As I worked on it I was struck by the way in which Ephesians 3:6 (I was preparing a homily for Epiphany) resonates with Ruth's story. I also refer to Exodus 20:8 for the generosity of the Sabbath day command. In addition I hope to evoke the Magnificat Luke 1:46. Ruth's final words refer, unknowingly, to John 3:15. A stranger and taking on new customs and beliefs, Ruth cannot know anything about the sacrifice of the Prince of heaven. The irony is both bitter and sweet. Ruth thus restates the un-readiness of God's people at the time of the Judges to relinquish the notion of sacrifice though they used animals for the rituals. Yet, she is ready to give her heart and in so doing prefigures the Gospel on two counts: the self-giving of Jesus and the self-giving that is required of all of us. I also hope that at the very opening of this poem the plight of refugees everywhere will instantly spring to readers' minds. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection ​ Poet, editor, homilist and reviewer, Hannah Main – van der Kamp teaches reading and writing as spiritual practice. Her published work has appeared since the late sixties in a variety of places including religious, literary and environmental publications. She wrote the poetry reviews for BCBOOKWORLD for eight years. Her latest titles include ACCORDING TO LOON BAY, SLOW SUNDAY ON THE MALASPINA STRAIT and BRIGHT AT BLACK POINT. Her work was included in FORCE FIELD, a recent anthology of BC writers. She contributes to on-line publication including artwayeu. Hannah’s interests include permaculture, meditation, birds, contemporary art and poetry. She is active in the Anglican parish of St David and St Paul in Powell River, B.C., Canada. Website Hannah Main–van der Kamp About the Artist Hannah Main–van der Kamp Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art The ease it was to pass through that gate in spite of my heavy accent and our ragged clothes! We carried no belongings. View Full Written Work Strange and Stranger within the Gate by Hannah Main–van der Kamp Ruth 2:6-8 The ease it was to pass through that gate in spite of my heavy accent and our ragged clothes! We carried no belongings. The villagers tried not to stare. They whispered about us but they knew who we were. Barley harvest was just coming in. There was a good boss man. I got part-time work. The other workers shared their food. It opened my drought-worn heart, the kindness of these people. It was as if I had come from a dung heap but they looked on my lowliness and filled me with good things. What made them so I wondered as I watched carefully; the Israelites have strange customs, all that washing, all those foods they may not eat! We thought we would have to start from scratch but our kinfolk came through for us. Then I met B. The way he said, “Moabitess and “damsel” helped put my grief behind me. If you’ve been to Sunday School, you know the rest of the story. Their God took some getting used to though. When I went out to work as per usual on a Sabbath day, the Bethlehemites stopped me. No they said, no one has to work on the seventh day, not even servants and foreigners, a God-given rule. A day off! But here’s what really convinced me to cleave unto this God. He does not demand the sacrifice of children. I shiver to recall those smoky hill shrines of Moab, the wailing mothers in front of the Baal altars. But here? None of that. When B. and I are blessed with a son, we will not fear the demands of priests and their wrathful god. I am blessed and the generations will call me blessed. May all my children and children’s children receive this mystery of grace, may they show it to heirs and to strangers. They will not die but live, our first-born and his son after him and so on for generations. Heavens! There will be no sacrifice, not even of an only begotten, not even if he were a prince. I ponder on this mercy, my soul magnifies this God! Close Loading Video . . . The ease it was to pass through that gate in spite of my heavy accent and our ragged clothes! We carried no belongings. Download Full Written Work