I got this photo, awhile back, of a Japanese bowl that has clearly been broken at some point in the past, and the pieces put back together. But instead of using crazy glue, like I would have done, in hopes that the cracks would be unnoticeable, this has been mended with gold and lacquer so that the shining veins encircle the bowl like a vine growing. I’m still trying to get my head around it.
The caption described the custom originating in the 15th century, and the legend accompanying it of the ruler (sometimes an emperor, sometimes a general) whose favorite bowl was dropped by a careless servant. But whatever mix of practicality and artistry inspired kintsukuroi, it is the philosophy behind the pottery that sticks with me. When household objects show the wear of age and use, and even when they crack right open, they are not discarded as useless. In the hands of the Japanese artists, mending makes them whole and beautiful, and stronger than before. I can appreciate that perspective, because most of my home is furnished in handed-down furniture and antiques. But when it comes to my own life, it definitely doesn’t seem it should be that way. Some days my life feels like it’s nothing but cracked refuse– shabby and worn and ordinary, and beyond usefulness. All I can see are the cracks, and if I could mend them quickly and never think about them again, I would be perfectly happy with that. Spotlight them in gold? Yeah, right.
But there is that old pottery piece in the picture, and the gold looks like a living river of light running through. I would not be the first to see the spiritual symbolism in kintsukuroi pottery. The parallel is clear between clay pottery and people, between gold and the power of the Cross, between human artists and the Creator. What takes my breath is the reasoning: that cracks and chips aren’t flaws…brokenness isn’t failure…aging and imperfections are not loss. Their marks are history and meaning and time spent. They are a visible proof of presence in this world, the result of fragile pottery impacting its environment in some small way. All these losses, the bangs and dents that I tend to mourn in life, seen as beautiful simply because they are life. “They are not something to conceal or be ashamed of because they remind us what it means to be human.” The simple caption almost makes me weep. To be human means to be flawed, and bound to break, and longing for wholeness in this very temporary life. And I know that the only reason the broken even could be beautiful is because the Creator picks up the pieces and mends it with His own hands. The cracks are an opportunity for something more than clay to enter in and change the way things are…all these flaws visibly filled in by His own shining glory.
It is exactly what Paul was talking about in his own life when he said “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.” (2 Corinthians 12:9b-10) If you look up content in the dictionary, it does not only mean to satisfy or fulfill. It also means to hold in, to contain, to limit oneself in desires. And I can see how Paul’s joy over his brokenness has more to do with what he wants than what he has. When you can say in complete honesty “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” (Philippians 3:8) then you will treasure anything that brings Christ near, even the hard things that batter and press. Narrow down your human desires and dreams to this one thing, and it is easier to be fulfilled: “…that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in his death.” (Philippians 3:10) This is the proper use for a fragile piece of pottery: to show the marks of a real and ordinary life, and all its flaws to be made beautiful by the Great Artist. I can hear Jesus promising the crowds following Him: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Matthew 5:6)
As one writer noted of the kintsukuroi bowl from legend: “One might almost say the true life of the bowl … began the moment it was dropped.” (Christy Bartlett, A Tearoom View of Mended Ceramics) And here I sit, the pieces of my life held up to You, with amazing grace flowing down all around.
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.” (2 Corinthians 4:7)
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“All these pieces,
Broken and scattered,
In mercy gathered,
Mended and whole.
Empty handed,
But not forsaken,
I’ve been set free,
I’ve been set free.
Amazing grace,
How sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost,
But now I’m found,
Was blind but now I see.
Oh I can see it now…
Oh I can see the love in Your eyes–
Laying Yourself down,
Raising up the broken to life…”
(Broken Vessels, Hillsong)