2 Kings 6:1–23
Logics of Reversal
The Banquet
Commentary by Nathan Mladin
Banksy, the Bristol graffiti master whose real identity remains unknown, constantly surprises the world through poignant and provocative murals that instantly go viral.
The 2005 Rage, Flower Thrower is among his most famous. Spray painted on a wall in the Palestinian Territories with the use of a stencil, it is a subversive call to peace.
With a balaclava drawn over his face, the young protester is shown leaning back, as though braced to hurl a Molotov cocktail. But instead of a weapon, he wields a flower bouquet, the only coloured element in this otherwise monochrome work. We expect an act of aggression—all other elements of the mural suggest imminent violence—but instead we are offered a call to peace.
A similarly subversive gesture is found in 2 Kings 6:18–23. The Syrians’ attack is miraculously thwarted. At Elisha’s request, God blinds Aram’s army. Confused and humiliated, they are led by the prophet to Samaria. As prisoners of war, they would not normally be put to death, but their fate nevertheless hangs in the balance when the King of Israel asks with sinister excitement ‘Shall I kill them? Shall I kill them?’ (2 Kings 6:21).
Elisha issues an emphatic ‘no’. Instead of a retaliatory bloodbath, he urges nothing less than that a banquet be thrown for the enemy. For a moment, a subversive gesture of hospitality breaks the logic of retaliation.
The cycle of violence continues after this episode. But in this scene, for just a little while, hostilities cease. The unexpected feast to which the Syrian army is treated prefigures the day when Molotov cocktails will truly morph into flowers, when ‘swords will be beaten into ploughshares’ (Isaiah 2:4 NRSV), and violence will be turned into conviviality when ‘the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines’ (Isaiah 25:6 NRSV).
The Floating Axe
Commentary by Nathan Mladin
As miracles go, the one narrated in 2 Kings 6:1–7 might seem rather banal. An anonymous ‘son of the prophets’ has an unfortunate work incident. While felling trees for a building project, the head of his axe comes loose and lands in the river Jordan. Personal distress ensues but the crisis ends quickly. Elisha, the ‘man of God’, recovers the missing axe head.
This fourteenth-century manuscript illumination by Jan Boudolf could be accused of rendering the episode even more mundane by choosing to show a moment before anything has gone awry. The men chop away while the prophet teaches them. Both axe heads are still attached.
But the artist has added an additional detail—not in the biblical text—to ensure that we recognize the extraordinariness of what is underway. Three red angels, haloed in gold, have made a dramatic appearance in the upper half of the illumination. This detail links the scene with the more epic events that 2 Kings 6 is soon to unfold, when a veil will be lifted on a whole army of them.
The angels signal both the impending moment of crisis and its divine resolution. When we anticipate what is to come, the illumination is charged with dramatic tension. There are unseen beings and forces at work in the world. The universe is enchanted. A supernatural display of power will recover a lost axe head and thus restore the fortunes of an unnamed worker. A site of manual labour, no less than a battlefield of kings, can be the gathering place of angels.
This vignette can be seen as a humble testimony to the meticulous care of a God who feeds baby ravens (Job 38:41), quenches the thirst of wild donkeys (Psalm 104:11), perceives barely formed thoughts from far away (Psalm 139:2, 4), numbers the hairs of balding heads (Matthew 10:30), and recovers work tools for anonymous assistant prophets.
Art, Prayer, and Vision
Commentary by Nathan Mladin
Through her ‘cosmic art’ (Barkham 2019), Scottish artist Katie Paterson manages to ‘visualize the invisible’ and distil into arrestingly simple expressions vast expanses of time and space.
100 Billion Suns (2011) is a playful rendition of an astronomic event of epic proportions—gamma ray bursts, the brightest explosions in the universe, which are said to burn with a luminosity 100 billion times that of our sun and to yield an exorbitant brightness undetected by the naked eye.
In the context of the 2011 Venice Biennale, Paterson had approximately one hundred handheld confetti canons set off in random locations around the city. Each canon showered 3,216 paper dots, corresponding to the number of gamma ray explosions known to astronomers. Each dot was colour-matched to a sample from a recorded image of a burst (Patterson 2011).
Much like Elisha’s prayer for his servant’s vision, Paterson opens a window on the invisible and combustive forces at work in the universe.
In 2 Kings 6:8–17, Elisha’s servant is initially restricted to ordinary vision. All he can see are enemy horses and chariots surrounding the city, ready to charge towards him and his master. It is only through Elisha’s mediation in prayer that his eyes are opened. What he sees with freshly opened eyes is more reliably real than Aram’s army. Luminous chariots of fire, harking back to Elijah’s rapture (2 Kings 2:11–12), surround the encroaching enemy as harbingers of salvation.
100 Billion Suns makes what is real and highly potent, but naturally unseeable, into a visual event. What Paterson accomplishes through her performance, Elisha accomplishes for his servant through prayer. Perhaps this invites us to consider some of the ways that art can function as a mediation that facilitates a seeing of reality in its depth dimensions. Maybe even a form of intercessory prayer.
References
Barkham, Patrick. 2019. ‘“I've breathed in some crazy things from outer space”—Katie Paterson's Cosmic Art, 28 January 2019’, www.theguardian.com, [accessed 21 July 2020]
Patterson, Katie. 2011. ‘100 Billion Suns’, www.katiepaterson.org, [accessed 21 July 2020]
Banksy :
Rage, Flower Thrower, 2005 , Mural
Jan Boudolf :
The miraculously floating axe-head: followers of Elisha cut trees near the river Jordan from Guiard des Moulins, Grande Bible Historiale Complétée, 1372 , Illuminated manuscript
Katie Paterson :
100 Billion Suns, 2011 , Confetti cannon, 3216 pieces of paper
‘Lord, that I may receive my sight’
Comparative commentary by Nathan Mladin
All of the episodes in this passage are variations on the theme of redemption. In the first vignette, the ‘son of the prophet’ is redeemed from debt slavery, into which he would probably have fallen as a result of losing the iron head from a borrowed axe (Leithart 2006: 199–200). In the second, the prophet Elisha, his servant, and the city are redeemed from destruction at Aram’s hands. Finally, through the prophet’s mediation, Aram’s army is rescued from a vengeful act of retaliation from the King of Israel.
Of the three works chosen for this exhibition, only the manuscript illumination by Jan Boudolf is explicitly based on the biblical text. The other two, while not directly connected to the passage, illumine and visually expound three other key themes: mediation, vision, and reversal.
The manuscript illumination pulls the viewer in through its decorated quatrefoil frame toward the deeper meaning of the text. What at first blush may appear merely illustrative and aesthetically pleasing, turns out to be a form of theological commentary. Through subtle visual cues, the illumination signals the presence of the supernatural and foreshadows the miraculous dénouement to this simple story. It does this through the trinity of angels that hovers over Elisha and the two ‘sons of the prophets’, and through the orientation of the prophet’s hands. As in some images of Christ at the Last Judgement, his left hand points upwards, towards the celestial realm of God and angels, the place from where deliverance is expected. His right hand points downwards, to the sphere of the mundane. It also anticipates the iron’s sinking into the water.
The prophet is portrayed as a teacher instructing his disciples, as mediator, and conduit of divine power. These are roles he plays in the subsequent scenes of the narrative. On the one hand, he prayerfully intercedes for his servant to receive spiritual vision in a threatening situation (2 Kings 6:17), and on the other, for God to take, and later restore, the natural vision of the Arameans (vv.18, 20). He acts as a mediator for the Syrians, instructing the King of Israel to spare their lives and treat them to a royal banquet rather than kill them, and through this, he acts as a broker of peace and channel of divine hospitality (v.22).
Viewed alongside the passage, the works in this exhibition enable a seeing of reality in its spiritual, even eschatological depth. By depicting angelic creatures, thought to be elusive and hidden from plain sight, the manuscript illumination concretizes the spiritual, and impresses upon the viewer the reality and potency, if also the hiddenness, of God and of heavenly beings. The illumination is also an invitation to the reader to see ordinary scenes and endeavours as spiritually charged sites where angels tread and redemptive reversals are imminent. There is an important resonance here with Katie Patterson’s art, which facilitates encounters with vast, if unseeable, cosmic forces and events. 100 Billion Suns is an invitation to acknowledge and acquaint ourselves with the hidden, but no less real and potent, energies at play in the universe.
The stories of the floating axe and the sparing of the Syrian army are both underpinned by a logic of reversal. In the first story, the laws of gravity are miraculously reversed. The sunken axe head is made to float. In the final scene of the passage, the laws of death and violence are reversed. A feast is spread before a humiliated enemy. Banksy’s Rage, Flower Thrower captures this logic of reversal with arresting poignancy. Instead of a grenade or a homemade petrol bomb, the protestor is about to hurl into enemy territory a vividly coloured bouquet.
Theologically construed, the mural hints at the eschatological terminus of violence. It is simultaneously a negation of what theologian John Milbank calls an ‘ontology of violence’ (2006: 4) and a powerful nod to peace as the world’s ‘ultimate ontological reality’ (2003: 42). But for the times ‘in-between’, before the promised Kingdom of Peace is fully established, Banksy’s ‘flower thrower’ is also, perhaps, a call to subversive enemy love and hospitality.
References
Barkham, Patrick. 2019. ‘“I've breathed in some crazy things from outer space”—Katie Paterson's
Cosmic Art, 28 January 2019’, www.theguardian.com, [accessed 21 July 2020]
Leithart, Peter. 2006. 1–2 Kings, Brazos Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press)
Milbank, John. 2003. Being Reconciled: Ontology and Pardon (London: Routledge)
———.2006. Theology and Social Theory: Beyond Secular Reason, 2nd edn. (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing)
Patterson, Katie. 2011. ‘100 Billion Suns’, www.katiepaterson.org, [accessed 21 July 2020]
Commentaries by Nathan Mladin