Top Five Things Sermon Series

Things I’ve Learned from Photography A Sermon for First UMC Olympia, February 24, 2019

Rev. Peter K. Perry Matthew 13:10-17

Then the disciples came and asked him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” He answered, “To you

it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For

to those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have

nothing, even what they have will be taken away. The reason I speak to them in parables is that ‘seeing

they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.’ With them indeed is

fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that says: ‘You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will

indeed look, but never perceive. For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of

hearing, and they have shut their eyes; so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their

ears, and understand with their heart and turn— and I would heal them.’ But blessed are your eyes, for

they see, and your ears, for they hear. Truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to

see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it. (Matthew 13:10–17,

NRSV)

I’ve been telling people who asked that today’s sermon is about photography. But actually, that is a lie. The sermon is about how we experience awareness in the world as people of faith. Photography is just a

metaphor to help us ask the questions and understand the answers related to our vision, and the vision of others that are different from our vision, and so often perplexing. “Why don’t you see things the way I see them,” we wonder.

I’m sure your heard or said things like:

“The way I see things…”

“From my perspective…”

“Well, he should walk in my shoes for a while…”

We intellectually acknowledge that we all perceive things in different ways, but despite knowing this, it is hard to get past our own points of understanding the reality around us. We are self-centered, and we

know what we know. What’s the saying?

“If the only tool you have is a hammer then everything in the world looks like a nail.”

The scripture this morning is the recounting of the disciples’ conversation with Jesus about his frequent teaching in parables. Apropos to this message, we have two different versions of this story. Mark’s

version of the story clearly suggests that the parables are a sort of secret language for the in crowd. But Matthew tells the story with a different, more inclusive, slant. He says, in essence, “I tell these stories so that others may understand what you already know.” Reminding them of Isaiah’s words, he says, “Those

who do not see God, those whose hearts have grown dull, those who have shut their eyes, whose ears are hard of hearing… I would heal them. You are blessed! You already see. But so many long to see, so

many long to hear, to understand… so I tell a story.”

You see, sometimes a parable can reveal a truth where other ways of sharing have failed to convey the fullness of a message. We are all different and we all learn in many and varied ways. It is often hard for

us see beyond our own noses. So Jesus taught in parables to make it easier for us to understand.

I chose this passage today because as an amateur photographer I have discovered that photography (well, all art for that matter) helps me see the world through more eyes than my own. I have loved

photography for a long time. When I was in high school, I turned a closet under the stairs in our house into a darkroom. My mother was a very patient lady and she put up with the smell of acid stop bath

coming out of the closet for years. I took a couple of photo classes in college and got to use a real darkroom and then I got a job working a photo store. I did some team photography and publicity photos for a while but decided the amateur had more fun than the pro. Over the years I have gradually learned

that the best images that have come out of my camera and now digital darkroom are not pictures that I have taken, but rather images that have been given to me. You see, when I “take” a picture I am simply

capturing what I see in the moment. But when I “receive” a picture it is because I have seen something I didn’t see at first, sometimes accidentally and sometimes because I made an effort to see “more” than

what was obvious to me. And it occurs to me that what photography has taught me, and is teaching me still, is of value in the way we see the world. So let me share with you five lessons from photography that I think are spiritual lessons that can help us see more than we do.

I’m going to put some of my photos on the screen that will help illustrate the points I’m making.

The first life lesson I want to talk about is focus. When we think about the world around us, what is important to us, what matters most in each moment, we ought to recognize that we have a limited ability to focus. No matter how hard we try we can’t keep everything in

focus at the same time. Some things will be a bit blurry in the photographs of our lives. In photography it’s “Depth of Field” or “Selective Focus.” In a field full of

dandelions, sometimes our focus is on just one of them. How do we decide where our focus will be as we move through life. There are so many things that we can focus on, so many things that clamor for our attention.

In the picture of the seagulls, which I took up in Port

Angeles a few years ago, that bird in the extreme foreground was my focus, but look at that bird in the background with his wings outstretched! Something interesting is happening there and I am missing it because I only see the thing in front. It is hard to be

focused on the things beyond our periphery. Photography teaches us this truth. It’s why the news reports on tragedies close to home last fifteen minutes,

but similar or greater tragedies far away are given fifteen seconds. Where is our focus? What is important to us? Photography has taught me to look beyond the thing

closest to me to see the things nearby and to bring them out of blurry bokeh and into focus.

The second lesson I’ve learned from photography is that no picture is ever perfect… at least I have yet

to create one that is. For example, since moving to Washington, I’ve been looking for the perfect picture

of a heron. I’ve got some good ones, as you can see, but none of them has fully satisfied my own

expectations. Even the imperfect ones have value, and beauty, and meaning. But the quest to do even

better is at the heart of what it means to grow and become all we hope to be. In the quest for perfection, I rely on four tools, if you will. These tools are probably applicable to any vocation or avocation. They are

patience, persistence, preparedness, and practice. So no matter what our goal in life may be, if we are

patient, if we are persistent, if we are prepared, and if we practice, we will eventually arrive at that goal.

The lesson here is that achieving our goals is a lifelong process, and it can be hard work. We must

patient and persistent in pursuit of the dreams we possess. And we are more likely to realize those

dreams, or at least approach a place where the dreams seem clearer and truer, if we are prepared and

practiced. This includes our efforts to build the kingdom of God in our midst. It includes our desire to be

a more a loving person, a kinder person, a more welcoming person.

The next thing photography has taught me is that

perspective is important. The same subject can

appear very different depending upon where I am

standing, what lens I’m using, the time day, the

season of the year. Here’s a simple example. There’s

a beautiful old tree in the church parking lot that was

planted before statehood. It looks very different in

these two photographs. The first was a couple of

years ago on a lovely late afternoon as the sun was

setting. It was taken from the window in room 222,

with a medium telephoto lens on the camera.

The second was taken two weeks ago, right after the

snow storm, from the parking lot with a wide-angle

lens on the camera. Same tree but seen in different

light, from different perspectives, through different

lenses.

Here’s another example of the importance of

perspective, also starring a tree. This tree is at the

Harvard Arboretum in Boston. From a distance the tree

is seen as one among many.

A bit closer, and the tree becomes the center of

attention with the presence of Karen and Elizabeth

gazing at it. Their hidden gaze emphasizes the beauty of

the tree.

Coming even closer, we eliminate the distractions and

we see one bough of individual blossoms. Where we

stand, how closely we look, how we see things in

relation to other things, all impact perspective.

We’ve all heard the expression

“can't see the forest for the trees.”

It’s an expression used of speak of

someone who is too involved in the

details of a problem to see the

situation as a whole. Perspective,

like focus, is often a matter of

stepping out of our comfrot zone of

the known and familiar, and looking

at something with new eyes.

When you are too close to a

situation you need to step back and

get a little “perspective.” But similarly, if you aren’t intimately connected to a issue, problem, person,

crisis, sometimes you need to come closer and see details you can’t see from a distance in order to

understand more fully, and perhaps love more generously.

I’m trying to improve my perspective on some

things in the world right now. I’m looking for

windows into worlds I don’t know very well.

One of the ways I am doing that is by reading

books written by people who aren’t like me. I

am reading books from the perspective of

Black Americans, and Buddhists, and non-

Americans. I want to read twenty books by

non-white, non-American authors in 2019. I

expect that my perspective on some things

might change if I reach that goal. And I will

surely understand the world a little bit better.

A fourth lesson from photography that I am

trying to embrace is the idea of negative space.

A photo can be too busy, too filled with

distractions. The object of interest doesn’t have

to fill the frame, and the space around it, what

artists call negative space, gives some breathing

room to the image. It is a simple enough

concept, but finding a balance between

negative space and the active part of the

photograph can be tricky.

And it is the same in life. We can be too busy,

and we can be too purposeless. Finding the

balance between movement and stillness,

between action and rest, between fullness and

emptiness is a life skill, a spiritual skill, that most

of us need to develop. I think in the language of

God-talk, negative space might be considered

sabbath, or prayerful silence before God.

I would note another thought in passing here, and

that is photography is art, and one of the things

you do with art is sit quietly in front of it,

absorbing it, reflecting on it, immersing yourself

in it. Art can change us if we let it. Photography

has helped me develop observational skills for

looking at life and reflecting on it, not just moving

through it, not consuming it, but being in it. A

good photograph draws you into the image. You

become a part of it. I think that’s the way we are

supposed to live our lives. Jesus spoke of life in

abundance. I think the only way to find that is to

fully immerse yourself in the moments that we have been given.

I think there are many more lessons from

photography remaining, but finally this

morning I share this one. The fifth lesson

I’ve learned is that things are always in

motion, always in a state of growth or

decay, always changing. And there is

beauty in all of the changes. There is

beauty in the growing, beauty in the

aging, beauty in the motion. It might be

the raindrops on a window pane, frozen

for a moment in time,

or water flowing over rocks.

Or it might be the blur of carousel animals

moving in a never-ending circular parade.

It might be a rusty old truck,

or the remains of a shipwreck.

There’s beauty in all of the movement and all of the change, because these are parts of the creation,

crafted by God or by the hands of God’s

children. There is so much beauty in the

world all around us, and we are here for a

time, a brief moment really in the grand

scheme of things. And the images we

capture, whether we capture them with

photograph, an oil painting, or a memory,

are but a record of an infinitesimal

fraction of the brief span of our lives. And

our lives a beautiful. And the practice of

observing our lives, and recognizing the

beauty God has put there is perhaps the

most important thing we can do. For it

helps us better understand our lives and our loves, and the lives and loves of the people around us, and

the gift that is the creation, of which we are a part.

The disciples asked Jesus, why do you teach with parables. And he said, if I may paraphrase, “So that

people may better see and understand the mystery of God.” If asked why I take photographs, why I

seek art in my life, I can think of better answer: “So that I and others may better see and understand

the mystery of God.”

Most of us have heard the poetry of Emily Dickinson, who in words and stanzas found another way to

observe the creation and celebrate it more fully. One of her better known poems springs to mind as

conclude this offering today:

Earth is crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees Takes off his shoes – The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries.