THE PRAYING HANDS

[Guest guest]

THE PRAYING HANDS

 

Dear Friends in TBP,

 

Love and Love alone...

 

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family

with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to 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 Albrecht Durer the Elder " s children 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 hadsacrificed, Albrecht Durer

painstakingly drew his brother " s abused hands with palms together and thin

fingers stretched skyward.

 

He calledhispowerfuldrawingsimply " 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!

 

Luv to all,