JOSHUA TIME 386

THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE OF THE PRAYING HANDS>> 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!>>