Order includes:

• high-res image file formatted for print

• high-res image file formatted for projection

• high res image file to share on social media

• A PDF of the artist's statement & scripture reference for the visual

• A visio divina Bible Study Guide for you to use this image in a group study session that incorporates the ancient Benedictine spiritual practice of "divine seeing."

Credit Info:

When printing and sharing online, please always include the following credits:
Artist's name | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org

FROM THE ARTIST:

I used to think my mother was cheap. When we’d go on road trips, she’d spend the night before preparing food for the trip. I thought it was because she didn’t want to spend money on fast food. She didn’t. But her reasons had nothing to do with a drive-thru.

My mother was a Black child in the U.S. in the 1950s and 60s. When they went on road trips, they had to leave in the dead of night with everything they’d need for the trip. For Black folks, there was no casual stopping along the way. If you stopped at the “wrong” place, you might not make it home. Her elders taught her what they had to learn themselves, often the hard way. My mom grew up in the Steel Belt, but the family had moved there after leaving the Jim Crow South during the Great Migration for greener (and ostensibly safer) pastures. Her preparations were vestiges of a circumspect upbringing designed to keep her safe.

I was well into adulthood when I realized my family had been refugees in their own country.

The story of the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt takes new significance as I consider not only the experiences of dear ones around the world, but also my own ancestors. My piece focuses on a parent’s desperate grip of their child’s hand as they escape a despot’s fiery wrath, possibly in the dead of night. The colors subtly recall the Pan-African, Palestinian, and Sudanese flags. I remember those left behind, and the lower part of the composition depicts the anguish of mothers whose children were not spared. Rachel still weeps (Matthew 2:18).

Our fears aren’t unfounded. Salvation may have arrived, but the world still isn’t safe. How will we remember Rachel’s children as we resist and rebuild?

—Rev. T. Denise Anderson