THE JOY OF GIVING

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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,

my 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! With Sai love from Sai brothers –

‘’ Courtesy: http://media.radiosai.org/

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