Broken Pottery Mosaic Meaning

In preparation for Easter 2015, Union Church worshipers were invited to break dishes as a symbolic gesture representing the broken areas of our lives that God can heal. Bill Catling from Azusa Pacific University was commissioned to take these broken pieces and put them back together to tell a story of our church and community. We were able to do this as part of an Urban Arts grant Union Church received that facilitated showing the JTown Jazz Club Musical at the Aratani Theater as well as this art piece. The musical and broken pottery mosaic are both meant to spur more creative ways our church can engage in to share stories of pain, perseverance and hope.

The imagery in the designs along the bottom of all four mosaics contain water-like colors and shapes to unify the panels. The blues, greens and whites symbolize the water of the Holy Spirit unifying presence across the decades and into the future and the flow of time as well as the connection of the two coasts (Japan and California) across the Pacific Ocean.

There are a few places on the panels where matching plate fragments have been lined up for Kintsugi, where gold is used to connect broken pieces making it more beautiful and more valuable. The fourth panel has it on the four crosses to show how the gold as symbolic for the repairs only Christ can offer even when the sections are not matched.

In panel one (early 20th c) there is the large flame of the Holy Spirit (reds and yellows) from the outpouring of the Azusa Street experience (1906) along with the early roots of Union Church (1918). This also represents the early era of Little Tokyo and the explosive growth in its early history.

In panel two (mid 20th c) there is a Torii Gate taken from a sumi ink drawing symbolizing the growth of the Japanese Church in LA, along with the suffering and hope of the transition caused by WWII. The gates usually denote a transition into a sacred place. In this case a period of suffering that led to a closer connection to the Holy Spirit symbolized by the smaller flame. The gate also represents all of Japanese culture and the hope of the ever-present Spirit that resides amidst painful eras in our lives.

In panel three (late 20th c to recent years) there is a set of flame-like growing forms that move upwards in a dark field of broken black plates. Each flame is a unique aspect of the church and have not found their way into a united experience and yet the Spirit continues to work. This design is based on one of the stained glass windows in the church sanctuary. The growth of the multi-ethnic community downtown and in our own church can be seen as something the Holy Spirit is doing. All the various colors can be seen and the diverse peoples reaching up toward heaven.

In panel four (present into the future) there is a Jerusalem cross, like the upper, central stained glass in the sanctuary, representing the integrated wholeness created by the Holy Spirit working through all of the different stories and allowing for greater levels of healing and ministry into the future. This cross is not only the symbol of Union Church but of the Bridge and, interestingly, the same symbol of our newest ministry partner, Praise Chapel Los Angeles. The Jerusalem Cross has four smaller crosses representing the gospel going to the four corners of the earth. The cross is central not only to our past but is our centerpiece as we follow the Holy Spirit into the future.

There is much more to explore in these four panels as we continue to reflect on their meaning and we hope you will share your own thoughts.

Eventually the four panels will find a more permanent home in the church but will remain movable as needed. The remaining broken pieces are still in our possession for a potential future project as well.

Lastly I want to thank Mike Stafford for his leadership in making this art project possible. I know I hope this will only be the beginning of many more creative projects to come.

Tim Yee (and Bill Catling)  |  October 2015

The Parable of the Broken Plates (Part Two)

Entering the Torii Gate (Partie Deu)
A Narrative by William Catling

All right, time for something new. No I do not want to be known as the “broken
plate’ guy. Repetition kills the creative spirit. Well I should say that it does not get
me excited. Once it usually enough. Really I am not interested in dragging out
the broken plate mosaics over and over as an ongoing ministry!!!
So how do I respond when I am requested to be involved in a “broken plate”
worship service at Fuller Seminary?
“Sure I would love to, when should we meet to make plans?”
Where did those words come from?
What am I doing?
******************************************************************************************
There is something going on here.
Time to pay attention.
In reflection, here are my thoughts. God is so interesting, using our essential
natures to move us forward despite our self-talk to the contrary. It is something I
have noticed over the years that often precedes important events,
breakthroughs, and connections. When these moments break through the
mundane of the endless to-do lists of life, it is best to go back to the beginning
and reexamine the process with new “eyes.” This often reveals what was unseen
previously and brings greater clarity.
When this “broken plate” idea was first presented at the coffee house it seemed
absolutely clear that it was a contemporary narrative that fits within the “parable
as teaching through metaphor” tradition. In fact the phrase dropped into my mind
in that initial conversation that “The Kingdom of God is like the sound of broken
plates.” That truth implies an ongoing reality of brokenness in the Kingdom that
rings out as if plates were breaking on a regular basis.
This began to resonate deep within me and trickle up into my consciousness as
short poetic phrases. The result is the following poetic expression that attempts
to wrap around the edges of this essential truth of the brokenness of life.

Parable of the Broken Plates
A Contemporary Narrative, by William Catling, October 2015

“The Kingdom of God is like the sound of broken plates.”
Plates break.
by accident, in anger, in moving,
while serving, when discarded, in disasters
Plates break with intention.
Plates break in surprise.
Formed of clay, glazed and fired
to become:
common earthenware or
fine bone china
Like plates-- -- -people break.
Human hearts are broken.
Agreements and vows are broken.
Relationships get broken.
Faith is broken.
Promises and hope is broken.
Bodies are broken.
Trust is broken as
Families and communities break apart.
We are broken and we suffer.
We share in Christ’s sufferings.
That we may know Him
And His sufferings
We share in the privilege of trusting
We share in the privilege of suffering
The sacrifices are a broken spirit
A broken and a contrite heart
It is wounds that knit us back together. (kintsugi)

So on a cool October evening, four-dozen leaders gathered in a wood paneled
room on the Fuller Seminary campus to worship. There was song, scripture,
readings and some silence, then as music softly filled the air, each person quietly
walked up to a table: selected a plate from a wicker basket, covered it with a
purple cloth and with anger, tears, joy, grief and sorrow dropped hammers in
ringing blows, shattering the ceramic beneath.

The fragments were then written on with words of emotion and faith and placed
in offering to the Lord. The weighty armloads of fractured platters became broken
symbols of prayers, moanings, cries, songs and shouts laid at the feet of the one
who was broken for all.
For those few minutes the room was no longer four walls with a carpeted floor
filled with uncomfortable folding chairs. It wavered, shimmered in a
transformational liminal experience of passing through the Torii Gate that leads
to a “thin space” where the spiritual and the bouncing atoms of reality blurr into
life changing possibilities.

(OK, I hear you.)

The Parable of the Broken Plates (Part One)

Entering the Torii Gate
A Narrative by William Catling
It was mid morning as sunlight angled across the street and brushed the front of
a brick façade building. I was early, found a small table near the window and
allowed the noise of grinding coffee beans and customer chatter fill the
atmosphere with a cushion of sounds. A foam leaf, artfully swirled on the top of
the espresso blend, rested in my cupped hands as I wondered what the
upcoming meeting might entail.
It all started with an unexpected email just a few weeks prior. Two women
running an arts organization in Orange County had referred me. The email was
an interesting request for me to reengage with my distant past. I have to admit I
had been praying for a way to use my leadership and art skills in a new way (just
thought it would be something else). In recent years I had devoted myself to
building fully integrated art and faith collegiate and graduate programs. Last fall
those responsibilities “fell away” like deeply pruned branches weighing heavily
from many seasons.
The rich taste of the coffee matched the aroma that had been mixing with these
thoughts while I waited and reflected on how I had arrived at this place. Here I
was in a trendy coffee shop preparing for a possible new future. Working directly
with churches was a past activity and I was not sure about bringing into my
current reality. Institutional Church life is rich in politics, ministry expectations,
denominational “headaches” and so much I did not miss.
What was I thinking after all of these years?
It was not too late.
I could simply walk out the door and drive home.
Just then, he walked up to the table. I had not met Michael before but I instantly
identified him: easy moving, open faced with a big smile. The conversation
started and we found it easy to talk, sharing a common life in the arts. His idea
was the creation of a “broken plate” mural for his church. The fragments had
been collected from a worship ceremony expressing grief, sadness and loss. The
notion grabbed ahold of me, it could function as a visual parable: “The Kingdom
is God is like the sound of broken plates.” Michael was ecstatic.
A cautionary inner voice desperately reminded me of how much time and energy
a project like this would take, especially trying to get the congregation involved in
the actual “art” of the project. The not so quiet voice helped me steer us to the
topic of budget, time and project scope. Now the tale emerges of the other artists
Michael had met with and how expensive they were, far exceeding the church

budget. I thought to myself, now make a good decision: go home, draw up some
plans and send in a proposed cost and timeline. So I did.
A few weeks pass and back for more coffee.
Before Michael arrives I mentally review the project status. We are in agreement:
three panels, abstract design content as submitted and the fee is set. For once I
not allow this to get out of hand.
Our planning meeting begins.
The conversation gets going and the history of the church begins to unfold. It
begins to emerge from our processing that the function of the murals could be an
echo of the life of the church. I weaken and with and unexpected generosity and
openness, we reach for clarity of vision for the broken plate project. (Which
means more studio time, more work, and same pay!) Soon it is clear that there
needs to be (not three but) four mural sections and I am excited about the taking
on the project.
Wait, what just happened?
I went into the meeting firm on how this was going to happen: three panels,
abstract pattern derived from the plates, a set budget and a clear timeline.
How is it that there are now four panels with all new content, a new end date, and
more people that “need” to be involved in the process?
*******
OK, back to good coffee.
It requires many steps from the farming aspects, the bean selection, the roasting,
the water, the blending, the context and the serving to become an aesthetic and
dietary pleasure of which I thoroughly enjoy. And yet when Winnie the Pooh is
asked what is his favorite thing, he first answers eating honey, of course. Then
he adds, with his best friend Piglet. After further reflection, he shares with
Christopher Robin that actually there is a moment just before he has his first
taste of honey that is the very best, with his best friend Piglet, of course. So
adding to the list of what makes good coffee is the anticipation just before the
first sip that adds to the quality. The pause, the liminal space between
anticipation and consumption.
********
All right, what does any of this have to do with a broken plate mural and doing
work for a church?

Good art that serves well creates a space between it and the viewer that allows
for the pause to live. To create work that deserves that space requires listening
to the process, the ideas, the materials, and those who are commissioning the
work. Serving the work, serving the church, serving God and serving the process,
art its best opens up the space between the past and the future, matter and spirit,
and hopefully the mundane and the truly exceptional.