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Showing posts from April, 2014

duck duck bunny is boring

easter was awesome.  we had such a rich lent and easter season, and then an absolutely beautiful holy week, with perfect weather for easter, and much joy to go around.  cade got sick on easter eve, and it carried into sunday, and then the bug slowly made its way through each member of the family over the course of this last week, so that hasn't exactly been ideal, but other than that, we were so blessed.  the kids got to do an easter egg hunt at church, and another at their grandparents house, and they got hooked up with all kinds of candy and good stuff from everyone, and had a blast.  well, mostly.  quinton wasn't really into the game of "duck, duck, bunny" that we played at the church easter egg hunt, as you can see in the picture below. still, other than quinton's analysis of the entertainment, we had such a rich and blessed season, and we are truly grateful for the opportunity to live through the cycle of preparation, passion, and resurrection as a fa

baseball, artfully

photo by gregory a. milinovich, taken in warriors mark, pa., april 21, 2014 have i mentioned how much i love baseball?   okay, good.  because it's true.   i was reminded of that again the other day when i stumbled across this wonderful little article containing one writer's 25 favorite songs about baseball (he neglected to include anything from my favorite baseball album "Roberto Clemente: Un Tributo Musical").  it wasn't so much the songs he picked or his description of them that captured my attention, as it was his brief analysis about why baseball inspires such great art.  among other things, he writes,  People who complain that baseball games are too slow are the kind of people who would rather watch cop shows on TV than read a good book. Perhaps that’s why football does better on the tube, while baseball does better at the library. The patient, burst-and-pause pace of baseball is not a drawback; it’s the sport’s greatest asset. (Geoffrey H

new lenten collage: seventh, and final, in a series

"into your hands i commit my spirit" mixed media collage on stretched canvas (found papers, acrylic paint, markers, glue) 8" by 10" april 2014 gregory a. milinovich and so we come to the end of lent, and of my lenten discipline to engage the Biblical texts that we are dealing with in church each week in a creative and expressive way.  this collage deals with what might have been the very last words uttered by the mouth of Jesus, words that are part of a prayer found in the 31st psalm.  it would seem that as he hung dying, Jesus was praying this prayer, not having his life taken from him so much as still offering it into the hands of God, whom he knew would embrace and redeem him.  on this good friday, let us remember that while we are good at pointing fingers at the ones who killed Jesus, whether you want to blame the religious leaders of the jews, or the roman authorities, or even ourselves because of our own sinfulness, the truth is that Jesus offere

maundy thursday, 2014

today is maundy thursday. maundy is a derivation of the latin word, mandatum, which means commandment.  today is so called "commandment thursday" because we remember the final supper jesus had with his disciples before his arrest and crucifixion, and in particular, what happened at that meal. ' it wasn't just any meal, of course.  it was the celebration of the passover.  a time when followers of YHWH looked back to remember how God delivered their ancestors from slavery in egypt, and how God had established a new covenant with the people.  the whole meal was full of sign and symbol of this covenant, this sacrificial system, in which the blood of a lamb had allowed the spirit of death to pass over those who put their faith in God.  the passover meal had become such a ritual, that there were certain words and prayers and routines that were part of it.  and on this night when Jesus ate the meal with this closest friends, he did it differently.  he basically told the

new collage for lent (6th in a series)

"lent 2014: it is finished" mixed media collage on stretched canvas (handmade paper, found papers, acrylic paint, marker, glue) 8" x 10" april 2014 gregory a. milinovich here is my sixth collage this lent, a reflection on Jesus words "it is finished."  we've been studying these final words from the "deathbed" of Christ in our church this lent, and i've been trying to express my own interpretations visually in these collages. this one is meant to be a bit messy and dark, to express the intense brokenness of Christ, that his body was literally broken, and that the temple curtain was split in two.  behind the curtain, of course, is the holy of holies, the mercy seat, and the very presence of God, and i wanted to illustrate that with something bright and glowing.  even in his death, he is victorious.  these words, "it is finished," are not meant to be heard as an acknowledgment of defeat, but rather as a victorious claim of

the bible on tape (jump, jump)

i've been sitting on this post for some time now, hemming and hawing about actually writing it, but, well, holy week seems about as good a time for a confession as any.  so here goes.  when i was a young teenager, maybe 13 or 14, my grandparents asked me if i wanted a bible.  but not just any bible.  it was the bible recorded on audio tapes.  i guess they got it somehow and no longer wanted it, and wondered if i would like it.  now, let's be clear about one thing: i was a pretty good church kid.  i mean, i was a teenager like any other, and i had my junk, but in the grand scheme of things, my main form of rebellion was growing a curly mullet and listening to stryper.  when i listened to amy grant singing "baby baby," which was pretty clearly not about Jesus, i felt like a wild child.   so, when my grandparents offered me the bible on cassette (oh, i nearly forgot:  kids, a cassette was a small plastic cartridge that contained a metallic tape substance inside

new collage for lent (5th in a series)

"lent 2014: i thirst" mixed media collage on stretched canvas acrylic paint, pages from a bible, marker, glue 8" x 10" gregory a. milinovich here is the latest effort to result from my lenten discipline this year.  as in recent years, i committed to making  something rather than giving something up during lent, and it happens to be that i am making a collage each week to correspond with each of the seven last sayings of Christ (which also happens to be what our sermon series is at catawissa avenue umc).  it is, of course, extra work for me during lent, but it is good for my spirit to carve out some space (time) each week for this form of expression.  i have to make it part of my to-do list, but once i'm there, in my art room, with paint all over my hands and glue all over everything, with limitless possibilities, i'm filled with peace.   this week, i did something very different for me....i painted!  i mean, i often use paint in my work,

incontrovertible evidence of my insanity

since i am certain that you're all just dying to know more about the inner workings of my psyche (please read that sentence with the appropriate level of sarcasm.  i suggest level: dripping), i thought i would share with you one of my OCD tendencies. actually, i have no idea if it makes me partially OCD, or just weird, but it is certainly a compulsion that i feel little control over.  if a normal person is going to put a plate of food in the microwave, they might type in a reasonable amount of time for the cooking, such as 1:30, or something like that. but not me. it's not that i think 1:30 isn't sufficient.  nor is it that i think 1:30 will make my food too hot.  if that were the case, i would simply make the time 1:15 or 1:20, or if i wanted it warmer, 1:45 or even 1:50, if i was feeling brave. but, you see, none of those times will work for me.  you will NEVER see me type any of those numbers into a microwave.  no, i will go for 1:31.  or maybe 1:37.  or 1:

new collage for lent (fourth in a series)

"my god, my god, why have you forsaken me?" mixed media collage on stretched canvas (vintage papers, marker, photocopy, glue) 8" x 10" april 2014 gregory a. milinovich here is my fourth collage in this lenten series on the final words of Christ. i wanted to express both the god-forsakenness of these words, as well as the hope latent in them as Jesus is quoting from a song. that's rights from his deathbed, Jesus quotes the first line of a song his listeners would have known well: the 22nd psalm. that psalm, while it begins with those excruciatingly lonely words, ends with expectation and hope. and so one wonders just what Jesus was really saying from his deathbed. my suspicion, since he was a human, after all, is that he was feeling quite a bit of both: crushing abandonment, and wild hope. as the color left his skin and the blood dripped from his body, he believed, he hurt, he cried out, he ached, he faded, he tore, he questioned, and he held to hope. but remembe