Popular
artist Thomas Kinkade died on Good Friday of 2012 at age 54.
Many
people love Kinkade's art, which belongs to the Lumnism School, an approach to
art characterized by painting in a way that brings out the natural reflection
of light in the paint. His works appear to emit an otherworldly
"glow," which Kinkade believed evoked "the light of the
world," Jesus Christ.
One
part of Kinkade's story is his marriage to childhood sweetheart Nanette, with
whom he has three daughters. At times, the marriage was strong and faith-filled.
Kinkade has often hidden his wife's and his daughter's initials in his
paintings.
A
second part of Kinkade's story are the hundreds of people who have contacted
him to tell him how his art brought them closer to God or helped them to
overcome depression. Some people report that his art was instrumental in
keeping them from committing suicide or in revitalizing a spiritual journey.
Sadly,
a third part of Kinkade's story is his premature death from acute intoxication from
alcohol and Valium. Kinkade's wife had sued for divorce two years earlier; he
was living with his girlfriend of 18 months and spent his last hours drinking
all night.
Kinkade's
story offers several poignant reminders for Epiphany, the season of light, the
season in the Church year when Christians celebrate God's gift of light in Jesus
Christ to the world.
First,
light is precious, free, and nobody can bottle, package, or preserve it. In
other words, light is for the moment and must be cherished in the moment, for
otherwise it perishes. Kinkade, whatever one thinks of his art, sought to share
light and had some considerable personal experience of living in the light.
Second,
for whatever reason(s), Kinkade moved from the light into a world of shadows
and darkness. His life spun out of control. The scary reality is that this can
happen to any of us, no matter how firmly anchored in the light we may think
ourselves. Small steps and actions, seemingly innocuous, can introduce shadows;
events beyond our control can block part or most of the light.
Third,
the message of Epiphany is that shadows and darkness do not have the power to block
the light permanently. God acts repeatedly to shine the light anew into our
lives, to expose the shadows and darkness for the emptiness that they are.
In
the prelude to the 1996 summer Olympics, runners carried the Olympic torch
across the United States to Atlanta. Several times during the run, the torch
went out. The first time was on a foggy day when two cyclists were carrying the
torch across a drawbridge. When a steel joint in the bridge punctured one of
their tires, the cyclists dropped the torch and the flame died.
Although
this was probably an embarrassing moment for the riders, the moment was far
from a catastrophe. A "mother torch" was kept in one of the support
vans; the cyclists relit the torch they carried from the "mother
torch," fixed the flat, and resumed their ride.
Relighting
the torch is an apt metaphor for the spiritual journey during Epiphany. The good
news of Epiphany is that people – and this can include all of us – who once
walked in darkness now walk in light. Religious resources – scripture,
meditation, prayer, music, art, community, helping others, etc. – are all means
of relighting our inner torches and our paths.
The
ironic tragedy of Thomas Kinkade's death is that the artist so many called
"the painter of light," when lost in a world shadows and darkness, did
not (perhaps could not, because of pride, self-image, or addiction) allow anyone,
not even God, to re-illuminate his life and his path.
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