Sometimes life hands you a wry observation, and the absurdity lands directly on humor. In this case, it’s Sallman’s ethereal, perfectly composed Jesus — the product of careful artistry, mass-produced reverence, decades of dignified church walls — keeping solemn watch over… someone’s hastily scribbled “Restroom” note, probably written on whatever paper was handy and taped up with packing tape.
The contrast is perfect. The eternal and the immediate. The carefully crafted and the “we need a sign right now.” The sacred portrait and the practical scrawl.
It’s like the whole history of trying to make faith proper and presentable, presiding over the reality that most of life is hastily scribbled notes and making do with what you have. The gap between our careful theology and our “we need a bathroom sign” moments.
And somehow Jesus is there for both. The reverent portrait and the scribbled necessity. Not choosing sides, just… present.
Watching over the whole beautiful, ridiculous, very human mess of it.
Servant leaders do this often, and a childlike view of the world is all it takes. Seeing the edges, noticing. Laughing at the absurdity. Not the sarcastic, the bawdy, not at the expense of others, but the joy of connecting, of seeing, of delighting.
And then there’s Robert Greenleaf:
Choosing to give us a last wry look over his life, knowing that his serious works live in the tension of who he was as a person, a human.
My admonishment to you today is to slough off the serious demeanor, to be open to what life gives, and to heartily laugh when the time comes for it.