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THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE OF
THE PRAYING HANDS
Back in the fifteenth century, in
a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen
children. Eighteen! In order to merely keep food on the table
for this mob, the father and head of the household, a
goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at
his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the
neighborhood.
Despite their seemingly
hopeless condition, two of the elder children, Albrecht and
Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent
for art, but they knew full well that their father would never
be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to
study at the Academy.
After many long discussions at
night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a
pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the
nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while
he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the
toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support
the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his
artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.
They tossed a coin on a Sunday
morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off
to Nuremberg.
Albert went down into the
dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his
brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate
sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils
were far better than those of most of his professors, and by
the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable
fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned
to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on
their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming.
After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and
laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head
of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the
years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his
ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed
brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to
Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you."
All heads turned in eager
expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat,
tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head
from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over,
"No ...no ...no ...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped
the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at
the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his
right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to
Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four
years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every
finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been
suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I
cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make
delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush.
No, brother ...for me it is too late."
More than 450 years have
passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful
portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors,
charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great
museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like
most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's
works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well
may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.
One day, to pay homage to
Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer
painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms
together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his
powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost
immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and
renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of
that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your
reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever
makes it alone!
May it also be a reminder
of the nail-scarred praying hands of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who is the one true mediator between God and men (1 Timothy
2:5) In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We
do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself
intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.
(Romans 8:26)
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