Praying Hands 


( A True Story)

  

  

    
      

      

      

      
Back
in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a
family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food
on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a
goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his
trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. 


Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two
of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to
pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father
would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to
study at the academy. 


After many long discussions at night in their
crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a
coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his
earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when
that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he
would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of
his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.


 They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after
church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg. Albert
went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years,
financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate
sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far
better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he
graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his
commissioned works. 


When the young artist returned to his village,
the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate
Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal,
punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored
position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved
brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill
his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother
of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue
your dream, and I will take care of you."


 All heads turned in eager expectation to the far
end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face,
shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and
repeated, over and over, "No...no ..no ...no." Finally, Albert rose and
wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the
faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek,
he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late
for me. Look ... look what four years in the mines have done to my
hands! 


The bones in every finger have been smashed at
least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in
my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast,
much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a
brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late."


 More than 450 years have passed. By now,
Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point
sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang
in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you,
like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works.
More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a
reproduction hanging in your home or office. 


One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he
had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused
hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called
his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost
immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed
his tribute of love "The Praying Hands." The next time you see a copy
of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder,
if you still need one, that no one - no one ever makes it alone! 



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In Loving Memory Of The World's Best Father
 Gilbert Luther Howington
1935-1999


And the Best Brother


And Gilbert Luther Howington Jr. (Bert)


1954-1993







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