Faith in Bronze

 

When Shishak king of Egypt attacked Jerusalem, he carried off the treasures of the temple of the Lord... He took everything, including the gold shields Solomon had made.  So King Rehoboam made bronze shields to replace them… (2 Chronicles 12:9, 10)

 

        King Reheboam, his resources depleted and under pressure from powerful nations around him, could not afford the luxury of replacing his stolen gold shields. They were only ornamental, after all, a symbol of royal status. Bronze was the answer. It was something, at least, to offer hope to his people that their nation would someday know again the glory of olden times.

         Russian friends have told me that in the summer of 1941, as Nazi forces were approaching Leningrad, the staff of the Hermitage Museum packed up tens of thousands of art objects and shipped them east. There was safety in the vast expanses of the Russian land. But they left the frames hanging on the walls. Pedestals that had held sculptures remained in place.  It was an act of hope, a trust that someday it would all be returned. The museum staff gave up priceless art, but they did not give up hope.

        The German army besieged the city for two years. Employees of the Hermitage moved into the basement to try to preserve museum buildings. Citizens of the city helped clean up damage from artillery shells and cover broken windows to keep out the snow. To say thanks, the staff conducted tours of the museum for these good people, though the art was not there. Photographs from the time show docents conducting tours among piles of snow on parquet floors. Small groups of visitors stand in front of empty frames, listening to descriptions of Rembrandts and Van Goghs that once hung there. The guides remembered every detail of that which had been lost, filling in the blank spaces of their magnificent museum with their own memories, commitment and love.

        Faith is being certain of what we cannot yet see. Like Reheboam with his bronze shields, these Russian curators made do with something—where there had been nothing—to demonstrate their assurance that there was a future for art, for their beloved Hermitage and for themselves.

Bronze is not gold, and an empty frame is not a Picasso, but faith fills in the blanks. When opportunity goes lacking and fulfillment is missing, when joy hides its face, faith believes they will surely one day return. Meanwhile it acts—every moment—as if they were still around.

 

Copies of Mike’s book, You Are Rich: Discovering Faith in Everyday Moments, a collection of 60 faith-related reflections, can be ordered through Amazon or Barnes & Noble.