A Surprise Ending

*Note- This sermon was originally preached in a congregation in Texas in the 90s.

On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered a village, he was met by ten lepers,[a] who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." When he saw them he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus answered, "Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" And he said to him, "Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well." Luke 17:11-17

Let me warn you before I begin preaching this sermon. The gospel has a way of sneaking up on us. The good news of Jesus can tiptoe up on us and smack us up side our nice, neat expectations. And Jesus seems to be at the center of all this subversive activity. He's always throwing us curve balls. He turns our world on top of its head. According to his backwards way of thinking, the last are first and the first last. The rich are cursed and the poor are blessed. Outsiders are inside and insiders are outside. Prostitutes, tax-collectors, outcasts are honored dinner guests at Jesus’ table. So-called sinners get into heaven before the so-called righteous. Samaritans are good. Enemies are loved. Children are our teachers. Then, Jesus goes around telling us these upside down parables, stories with hidden time bombs, that explode our reasonable worlds. To top it all off the plot of his life ain't very predictable either. The deliverer ends up needing to be delivered, the savior needing to be saved as he hangs there nailed to that old rugged cross. Then, when we come to what seems the end of the story, like father like son, God flips things upside down on their head and raises a dead man to life. That’s not the ending to the story we could ever expect. So, I’m warning you, don’t be surprised if the gospel sneaks up and surprises us, maybe even while I’m preaching.

Today's gospel story seems pretty predictable though. It would make a nice sermon on gratitude, thanksgiving. As the story goes, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. Entering a crackerbox village, ten lepers approach him. They keep their distance because they are "unclean." In a pitiful tone the ten cry out, "Lord Jesus, have mercy on us!" Jesus doesn't touch them. He doesn’t wave his hands and say "abracadabra, your healed." He doesn’t so much as give them a band aid. Jesus simply says, "Go and show yourselves to the priests"; these were the temple officials who could pronounce them "clean." On their way to the temple all ten are healed! Made whole! Freed from being called “dirty,” “filthy, “unclean.” Freed from being looked down upon. Freed from being considered second-class. Freed from being cut off from their community. All ten lepers were healed! Hallelujah! Thank you, Jesus! You would think all of them would have ran back to Jesus and cried out, “Thank you, Jesus!” But, only one returns, shouting his praise to God loud enough for everyone to hear. He don’t care what other people think. He gives no never mind. He flattens himself out on the ground and shouts, "Thank you, Jesus!"

Thank you, Jesus! That would make a nice title for my sermon. Maybe a better title than “A Surprise Ending.” I could use this gospel story to preach on giving thanks. That's been the topic of millions of sermons preached on this gospel story. But, hey, one more wouldn't hurt, right? Aren't we supposed to be thankful, like the one who thanked Jesus? Gratitude is a good thing. We could all use an attitude of gratitude. Gratitude is a virtue to be honored. I think we all could say “amen” to a sermon on being thankful. This sermon could be about giving thanks to God for our parents, our children, our home, our health, or our job. I could preach to you about singing praises to God for the simple things in life---rising to a new day, the morning sun on your face, the smell of fresh coffee, the song of a bird, the laughter of a child. There are so many gifts to give thanks to God for. We all like to give thanks to God, don't we? Amen? We could appreciate another sermon on thanksgiving.

Well, that depends. Maybe not if I moralized the gospel story and preached one of those "oughta sermons." You’ve heard preachers who preach “oughta” sermons, haven’t you? You oughta be thankful! You oughta go to church more and thank God more! You oughta be thankful you're not hungry and sick! You oughta be grateful you're of sound mind and body! On and on it goes, “You oughta…you oughta…” I remember just such a sermon on giving thanks based on this bible story of the ten lepers. The preacher told a long string of sad, pitiful stories of people dying from diseases, all the while trying to make us healthy people feel more thankful. Faces in the pews were drooping. Everyone looked like they had been weaned on sour pickles! Near the end of the sermon the preacher said we oughta be thankful for the shoes we wear, for some people in this world don't even have feet to put shoes on! After that sermon the people with droopy faces were truly feeling thankful. They were thankful that depressing sermon was over! Well, in my sermon I could tell you a bunch of sad stories and plead with you, "Come on people, you oughta be more thankful, like the one leper who returned to Jesus and gave thanks. Please, be more thankful." And if I preached that sermon, you too would be thankful....when the sermon was over!

Or if a guilt trip didn't work I could castigate you for not being as thankful as you should be. It's your moral duty to be thankful! God commands: Be thankful! It's right there in black and white in the Bible! God will judge those harshly who aren't thankful! Anyone who isn't truly thankful shouldn't even be in this church! For God's sake, how could you be so ungrateful!? That might make a good sermon for a community Thanksgiving service. You know the kind. Preaching professor Fred Craddock tells a story of when he had to attend one of those Thanksgiving services held in the community. A number of churches get together for a service and muster up about as many people as if only one church had the service. And inevitably the text for the evening is...ten lepers came to Jesus and were healed...only one returned to give thanks. Then, the preacher mounts the pulpit, looks out over the sparse audience and with furrowed brow cries out, "Where are the nine? Where are the nine? Where are the nine?" For an hour the preacher yells, "Where are the nine?" Craddock says at that point in the service he's thinking to himself, "There where I'd be if I had a lick of sense!" From today's gospel story I could preach a sermon on giving thanks, but I'll save that one for another day.

I believe most of us would rather hear a sermon on faith in Jesus as the source of our salvation. That seems to be the message of our gospel story. All ten lepers are healed. All ten. One returns to give thanks. To only one Jesus' says, "Your faith has saved you." But, weren't all ten healed? So, what's the difference between this one and the other nine? Ten were healed. One was saved. Granted, the word here can be translated as either "healed" or "saved." But, only one returns to Jesus. The nine go on their merry way. Only one returns to Jesus. Only one bows before Jesus. Only one recognizes Jesus as the source of his healing. Only one hears from the lips of Jesus the word of salvation. That's what makes his faith different from the nine. He alone sees something the others don't see. He alone understands, acknowledges, praises, and gives thanks to the source of his healing and salvation. He sees his cure as part of the deeper meaning of salvation brought to him by Jesus.

Now, that would make a powerful sermon. I could title it: Jesus, the Source of our Salvation. I believe I just might be able to get an "amen" from this congregation if I preached that gospel truth. I could even preach it with three points and a poem: First point: Come back to Jesus! Well? Second point: Thank God through Jesus! Amen? Third point: Bow down before Jesus, the source of our healing and salvation! Can I get a witness? People, that is the gospel truth! We are to come back to Jesus, even when others don't. We are to give thanks to God through Jesus, even when others don't. We are to bow before Jesus, who is the source of our healing and salvation and not only for us, but for all humanity, even for those who don't thank Jesus. We are the ones who proclaim that it is Jesus, the Balm of Gilead, who heals us. We are the ones who acknowledge that it is Jesus, Healer of our every ill, who makes us whole and restores us to our community. We are the ones who thank God that it is Jesus, Savior of sinners, who is the source of our salvation.

It is our faith in this Jesus which saves us. We are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. That's the gospel truth. We are not saved because we're good or because we're better or holier than others. We’re not saved because we're more religious. Not because we're Mennonite or Baptist or Episcopalian or Church of God in Christ. Not because we have our name on a membership roll. Not because we give money to the church or teach a Sunday School class. We are saved by the grace of God in Christ, simply because we have come to Jesus in faith, the source of salvation. Our faith, our trust in Jesus alone, has saved us. One came to Jesus in faith and was not just healed, but saved. He didn’t have to get his life straight first. He came to Jesus and was saved. Are you that one? Do you believe this gospel truth? You are accepted by Jesus upon your faith and trust in him and not because of who you are or what you have done? If you are that one who came back to Jesus and was saved say, "Amen", say, “Thank you, Jesus.” That's what makes us Christian. That's what makes us part of the Christian community. The healing grace of God. Simple faith in Jesus. Nothing else. As Christians, we believe with all our hearts Jesus is the source of healing and salvation----for all people. Not just for some. Not just for you and me. But, for all people. I may have a sermon yet; that is, if I preach the gospel, the surprising good news.

But, like I warned you, if I do preach the gospel, it might just sneak up on us. It may topple the tables of our minds and hearts and all the coins of our expectations may go jingling across the floor. So, maybe I should just retell the gospel story, put it in the new suit of where we live……There were once ten patients in a hospital. All ten were suffering from the same dreaded disease. They had been isolated to one room and were not allowed to have contact with anyone inside or outside the hospital. The attending doctor and nurses wore rubber gloves when they worked on the patients. Some nurses assigned to that wing refused to work with the patients out of fear. If it weren't for the disease, these ten quarantined patients probably would never have associated with each other. One thing they had in common, besides their affliction, was that they all were churchgoers...well, to some degree. They often prayed together that God would be merciful and grant them healing or at least a remission of their disease.

One day when the doctor was making his rounds and giving them their daily check up, he noticed that the skin lesions on all ten patients had miraculously disappeared. He told them all to come with him to another room for further tests. All the tests indicated, for some unknown reason, their disease had gone into remission. So, the next day their doctor, still scratching his head, released them all from the hospital. They all packed up their belongings and headed their separate ways. Except one. He stopped by the hospital chapel, fell down hard on his knees before a stained glass window of Jesus, the Good Shepherd. With tears streaming down his cheeks and loud cries that could be heard all the way to the gift shop, this one poured out his heart to God. “Thank you, God! Thank you, Jesus!” He wept for joy believing in his heart that it was his faith in Christ that healed him…....from AIDS. Oh, I forgot to tell you....the man was gay.

Jesus pulls the rug out from under us with a surprise ending. The way Luke tells it, he waits until the very end of this gospel story to let his readers know that the one who returned to Jesus, gave thanks, and was not only healed, but saved, was.... a Samaritan. As a leper and Samaritan this man was an outcast among outcasts, doubly scorned, labeled "unclean" and "foreign born." As a leper he was excluded, cut off from acceptable society, labeled "dirty," considered a source of pollution to the community. It was only because of their common disease and being excluded from the larger community that brought these ten lepers together. So, when Jesus healed all ten, he was not simply curing their disease, but restoring them to their community. That is, all except for one. Jesus could not "cure" one of being a Samaritan. He was born that way. Considered a "half-breed." Part of a people who had to have their own separate churches and ministers; a people whose faith was suspect. Even after he was healed and saved, he would have to remain apart from those nine with whom he shared a disease that cut them all off from society. He was truly an outcast among outcasts. Leper. Samaritan. Those labels stand out in Luke's gospel story like a sore thumb.

Oh, we can change the names and labels----from Samaritan with leprosy to Gentile woman with chronic bleeding, old woman with mental illness, homeless man with…. It makes no difference. Since we have no Samaritans with leprosy to point to we have to translate "Samaritan with leprosy" into modern language, not just to make it updated, but so we might feel in our own bones the surprise ending of the gospel story. I could have translated “Samaritan with leprosy,” as "politician with sex addiction"! But, I didn’t. In Jesus’ day the Samaritan with leprosy represents the despised and rejected, the outcast and marginalized, the forgotten and forsaken in society. Those are the ones that where left out, pushed aside, despised, rejected, labeled, and called names. Those are the ones that Jesus most dearly loved. Those are the ones who Jesus offered hope, healing, wholeness, liberation, and salvation.

Now, don't hear me wrong. I'm not trying to make any moral statements from this story or preaching “You oughta do this or that.” I'm just preaching the gospel. And the gospel of Jesus Christ says: We are saved by the amazing grace through faith in Jesus Christ alone, the source of healing and salvation, a message of liberation for all people, no matter who we are or what we’ve done or haven’t done, or what people in the community may think of us or call us. The gospel has restored us to the beloved community of God.

As Christians, we believe Jesus is the sole source of our salvation. Nothing else. It is Jesus who heals us, save us, and restores us to community. It is Jesus who has thrown away all the labels that people want to hang on us. It is Jesus who has broken down all the walls that divide us. It is Jesus who has reconciled us as one people. It is Jesus who offers this same good news to all people, to all people. We have no one to thank for our healing, our salvation, our liberation, our restoration, but Jesus. Hallelujah! Praise be to God! Thank you, Jesus!

Will you return to Jesus and give thanks for this world-shaking, earth quaking, wall-breaking, bone-clattering, label-shattering, soul-surprising gospel? Or will we go on our separate ways? Separating ourselves from those we call “other,” “different,” “unclean,” “not-our-kind.” Or will we, for Jesus’ sake, welcome the Samaritan, whoever that may be for us. Welcome those who have been healed and saved along with us? One of the lepers who was healed, a Samaritan, returned, fell at Jesus' feet, and gave thanks. And Jesus said, "Your faith has saved you."

The Godwrestler

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.
When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck
him in the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he
wrestled with him. Then he said, ''Let me go, for the day is breaking. "
But Jacob said, "1will not let you go unless you bless me. " So, he said
to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob:" 'Then the man
said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have
striven with God and with humans and have prevailed."
Genesis 32:22-32

The ancient story of Jacob is rugged and powerful. It is not a simple, edifying story with an uplifting moral lesson. To read it is to see it's teeth gleam and it's sweating muscles bulge. The story is similar to other ancient stories of gods and demons who leap upon humans at night and engage them in combat near riverbanks. The thought of wrestling with a god is as frightening as the thought of Pee Wee Herman wrestling Hulk Hogan. If we are to wrestle a blessing from this story, it will only be after we have grappled with it for some time. And' we may come away from this story limping, wounded by the struggle. But, as the story goes, we may then be ready to receive our new name. Because in our wrestling with the text, and how it speaks to us, we may walk away having seen reflected in the mirror of this story, not only our own faces, but the face of God.

It is night. The darkness is filled with sounds that terrify. A solitary man fretfully waits by the gurgling Jabbok river. Alone. In the distance he can hear the muffled sounds of a caravan with camel bells jingling. His loving family, herds, and all he possesses have crossed over the river. They bear gifts to appease an angry adversary on the other side of the dark river. It's as if Jacob is at the point of no return. When the sun rises he must go across and face his brother Esau. Beads of sweat form on his furrowed brow and glistened on his beard. His insides are churning like the water hitting the nearby rocks. He dare not sleep. The silent air is thick with an ominous foreboding.

Then suddenly from out of the bowels of the darkness leaps a faceless and nameless stranger and throws Jacob to the ground. The cold flesh of the night stranger presses hard against Jacob. His foul breath is hot in Jacob's face. Their bodies intertwined like snakes in a deadly dance. Twisting. Turning. Grunting. Panting. Scissor holds. Half-Nelsons. Body slams. The wrestling seems endless.

What or who is he wrestling with in the dark of night? The god of the river? Esau? Himself? His own fears? His past? His destiny? Some inner demon? God? Maybe it's all of those things twisted together that Jacob wrestles into the night. Those of us who have experienced such inner struggles cannot easily distinguish what or who it is we are wrestling. Our battling relationships or our struggles with self-identity may be, at the same time, struggles with God. Jacob is probably no different. What is it that has Jacob in a headlock? With what or whom is he struggling beside the riverbank?

To better understand Jacob's struggle we might look back at Jacob's life and think of him as a professional wrestler, who has been sitting in the comer of a ring waiting to combat an opponent. The announcer comes to the center of the ring. His voice echoes through the PA system. Ladies and Gentlemen ...men...men. In this corner...comer...corner ...is Jacob ...Jacob ...Jacob. Then the announcer proceeds to describe the contestant. What we hear is not his weight or the color of his trunks, but the unfolding of his life up to this point. We see flashbacks of Jacob, son of Isaac, son of Abraham, whose life seems to have been a constant struggle.

The first flashback is a scene in a maternity ward. More correctly, a goat-skin tent. Inside, a sweaty woman, Rebekah, groans to give birth. Within her womb are twins wrestling to see who can make it out first. It's almost as if, prenatal, they knew that the firstborn child would eventually receive their father's special blessing. So, they struggle with each other, even in the womb. Suddenly there is a deep moan. Out from the womb comes a hairy, red headed baby, who they name Esau. Not to be outdone, the second child comes out, named Jacob, gripping onto his brother with a wrestler's grip.

The second flashback is a scene in a kitchen. The steam rises from a bubbling pot. The vapor of smell from lentil stew floats through the air and caresses the nose of Esau and pulls him forward almost floating, like a scene from a cartoon. Esau has come in tired, gritty, and famished from a long day of hard work in the fields. "Give me some of that red stuff, I'm starving", growls Esau. Jacob stands there with his apron on stirring the pot. "First," responds Jacob cunningly, "sell me your birthright." Beans for a birthright. Quite a bargain. Here is a cheater and conniver at work Jacob is being true to his name.

The third flashback is a scene of a bedroom. A man, named Isaac, lies in a bed inside a tent. The sun is going down over the red hills and the oil lamp inside the tent makes it glow. Isaac's eyes are tombs wrapped in wrinkles. A fly buzzes through the air and lands. He calls out to his firstborn, his favorite son Esau, to come into the tent to receive his due blessing. Not a mere formal blessing like, "God bless you". But a blessing which is a transfer of the power of the one who blesses to the one being blessed.

The doting mother of Jacob overhears the conversation with Esau, from outside the tent. While Esau is Isaac's favored son, Jacob is her's. She has spoiled this boy rotten. It doesn't take a family therapist to recognize that there is favoritism and rivalry within this family. The parents of these twins are having their own wrestling match. But we, who know about parental favoritism and playing one child over against the other, are aware of the results that such pitting of child against child can bring into the lives of children as they grow older. Children who have grown up in such dysfunctional families go limping through life with hidden wounds.

The mother has a few tricks up her sleeve. Her scheme is to have her son disguise himself as Esau and finagle his blind father out of the blessing. Later, rustling feet enter Isaac's tent bringing the smell of Esau. The hairy arm feels like Esau. But Isaac's blind eyes cannot see that it is the trickster Jacob who finally gets the father's blessing. The scene closes with a loud moan coming from the tent. We recognize the angry scream. It's Esau. Boiling over with hatred.

Other scenes from the past of our wrestler, quickly flash before our eyes. One is of the con man being conned. The scene is an informal wedding. It is taking place in the land where Jacob has fled from the red-hot anger of Esau. The canopy hangs over the lucky couple. But it doesn't look like luck Jacob has been conned into marrying Leah, the oldest daughter of Laban, in order to get the younger daughter, Rachel, as his wife. Not only that, but Laban got seven years of labor out of Jacob from the deal. The trickster has been tricked. Jacob will soon turn the tables and use his conniving skills to benefit himself But for now, he sweats under the wedding canopy. A veil hide the face of the women at the altar. But there is no veil to hide Laban's half-smile. He has duped Jacob.

Another scene flashes into the mind of the godwrestler. The scene is of bleating sheep being herded away by Jacob. His family and possessions make a cloud of dust as they leave the country of Laban. They did not part the best of friends. Laban pursues Jacob and his caravan of ill-gotten-gain. But a covenant at Mizpah keeps them from going at each others throats in the future. Jacob heads back home. Angels refresh his journey. He's going to need a few angels to travel with him. He is headed toward his red, hot brother, Esau.

In this corner ...corner ...corner ... is Jacob ...acob ...acob. The announcers voice brings us back to the riverside. Jacob comes to his senses. He has been a pampered pup. A momma's boy. A trickster, cheater, conniver. He is no worthy opponent. He run's away from his problems. Not this time. The bell has already rung and Jacob .has been in the ring wrestling with his faceless adversary all night long. Who, in this world or the next, is this shadow wrestler?

His adversary is stronger than any man. But the once-resigned and cowardly Jacob puts up quite a fight. From somewhere courage springs up within the defeated Jacob. And it's not just an-adrenaline rush. Blow for blow he doesn't give up or give in. Jacob is now literally wrestling for his life.

Relentless. They go at it until the sun begins to peak .over the mountain's crest. He's becoming quite a wrestler! And as the dawn begins to break, it appears that Jacob is now winning! He has the stranger in an vise-grip headlock. The faceless wrestler cries out to Jacob, "Let me go before the sun rises". Jacob's hunch that this was no ordinary man is confirmed. Maybe it's a trick. He tightens his grip.

Then the stranger simply touches the hollow of Jacob's thigh. Jacob is suddenly lying crippled, with a thigh muscle pulled. It's as if the stranger could have pinned his shoulders for a ten count at any time during the all-night fight. Still, Jacob holds on for dear life, even though his adversary could probably pin him with his little finger.

When the wrestling is over and done Jacob will realize that he did not wrestle an ordinary man. He will realize that when he looked into the face of the stranger, what he saw was in reality the face of God. It was as if God was the one who had been trying to wrestle something out of Jacob.

You know what I mean. It's like when God wrestles a new character or future out of your own Iife when you struggle through difficult relationships, decisions, or problem situations. You try to running away from the problem, what's ahead of you, a broken relationship, or your own inner conflicts and contradictions. But alone at night, it pounces upon you. And you have to wrestle with it. What am I supposed to do? Which way am I supposed to go? Why do I always seem to act this way? Why am I having to go through this? Where is God in my life? What is God doing with me? You wrestle with a faceless opponent. Or maybe your opponent has many faces. You can't tell whether it's the face of that friend you have been at odds with, the darker side of your own self, or the hidden face of God. And your adversary is stronger than you. But hopefully you can hang in there through the fight. Those who hold their grip through such spiritual struggles until they wrestle some meaning from them are wrestlers on par with Jacob. They come out of such struggles different persons.

"I will not let you go until you bless me," groans Jacob. Jacob has recognized that his opponent is more than a mere human. "What is your name?" grunts the stranger. "Jacob", he responds. He admits who he is. His name is his character. Jacob confesses. I am a trickster, a cheat, a conniver. Only by confessing his name, who he really is, can he become who he is supposed to be. Only as we admit that we have been cheaters, liars, manipulators, cowards, and complainers will we become who we are supposed to be. First, we have to own up to our name, who we, in all honesty, really are. For if we don't our shadow self may just leap out at us some night while we are all alone and wrestle us to the ground.

Because Jacob overcomes through the struggle, he receives a new name. No longer will his name or his character be Jacob, the trickster. His name, and his character, will be Israel, Godwrestler. The transformation of his character is the blessing which he sought. Jacob has wrestled with himself, with his past, with his future, with his relationships, and with God. That old life of conniving and running that haunted him in his dreams leaves with the rising of the sun.

The new day will even see Jacob's fears of Esau blow away like a puff of smoke. Jacob and Esau on the other side of the river and end up in a bear hug. Not in a wrestling match, but with Esau embracing Jacob and showering him with tears, kisses, forgiveness, and blessings. Was this the one he thought to be the faceless adversary the last evening? No. And yes. It was Esau that Jacob wrestled. It was himself that he wrestled. But more than himself and Esau. For as Jacob looked into Esau's forgiving face Jacob said that it was like looking directly into the face of God.

Jacob limps away from the ring with one arm around Esau. He has fought the good fight. He has kept the faith. And he carries with him a battle wound. It is the mark that anyone who has encountered God as deeply as Jacob carries in themselves. It is the painful memory of struggles with ourselves and our relationships. Or the scars from our battles with God. When we make it through such personal and spiritual struggles or come through such dramatic turning points in life, we walk away wounded, limping. As Jesus limped out of the tomb on Easter, bearing in his body the scars of his great struggle and victory. And we can never go back to being that person we used to be. We have a new name, a new character, a new destiny. God, our beloved adversary, has wrestled it out of us. And our wound is a reminder to us of
how weak is our strength in the face of God's awesome power.

We know the place where Jacob wrestled. We repeat his story, again and again. Somewhere wrestlers are grappling in the dark. Someone is struggling with a shadowy figure. A defeat .is turned into a victory by God's hand. A new name is given. And a lone figure limps away as the sun dawns on a new day.

Common: rapper Lonnie Rashid Lynn Jr.

finished an ink drawing of socially conscious rapper Common for my series M.U.S.I.C.: Musicians Undermining Social Injustice Creatively. To see others in the series go to: http://leosart.wordpress.com

More church bulletin art

Frederic Remington: Illustrator of the Old West

Frederic Remington went to art school at Yale University but was more interested in football and boxing than art. A trip to Montana at 19 inspired him with images of the Old West. Remington became noticed as an illustrator after he worked for Harper's Weekly starting in 1886. Along with Charles Russell, Remington is recognized as an artist of the Old West.

Praying Hands 13

Howard Pyle: American Illustrator

Howard Pyle is known as the "father of American illustration." He mostly illustrated children's books with pirates being one of his primary subjects. Pyle was educated at the Drexel Institute of Art, Science and Industry and went on to found his own art school; Howard Pyle School of Illustration. He taught summer courses at Chadds Ford, PA. One of his students was N.C. Wyeth, who is another key figure in American illustration, among many other students who became well known illustrators.

N.C. Wyeth: American Artist and Illustrator

Newell Convers Wyeth was an outstanding pupil of the renowned illustrator Howard Pyle and became one of the best American illustrators. Pyle taught him his own detailed realism with an atmosphere of romanticism, while Wyeth developed a looser style. Wyeth was taught to be historically accururate in his illustrations. His first commissioned work was for the Saturday Evening Post at the age of 21!

Wyeth settled in Chadd's Ford, PA near the historic Brandywine battlefield. I used to pass by this area frequently on my way to the Philadelphia airport from Lancaster and have visited the Brandywine River Museum which exhibits the works of the Wyeth family. I knew the work of N.C.'s son, Andrew Wyeth, from college art history classes before I knew about his father and the work of his grandson, Jamie.