The Story Behind The Picture Of The Praying Hands =================================================

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived afamilywith eighteen children.Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, thefatherand head of the household,a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his tradeandany other payingchore he could find in the neighborhood.

Despite their seeminglyhopelesscondition, two ofAlbrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted topursuetheir talent for art,but they knew full well that their father would never be financiallyabletosend either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boysfinally worked out a pact.They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby minesand,withhis earnings,support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when thatbrotherwhowon the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brotheratthe academy, eitherwith sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in themines.They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won thetoss and wentoff to Nuremberg. Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, forthenextfour years,financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediatesensation. Albrecht'setchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of mostofhisprofessors, and bythe time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees forhiscommissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held afestivedinner on their lawnto celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorablemeal, punctuatedwith music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at thehead ofthe table to drinka toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that hadenabledAlbrecht to fulfill hisambition.

His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother ofmine,now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take careof you."All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table whereAlbertsat, tears streamingdown his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while hesobbedand repeated,over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no." Finally, Albert rose and wipedthetears from his cheeks.He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holdinghishands close to his rightcheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is toolatefor me. Look ... look whatfour years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I havebeen suffering fromarthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass toreturnyour toast, much lessmake 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 ofmasterful portraits, penand silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copperengravings hang in everygreat museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like mostpeople,are familiar with onlyone of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar withit,youvery well may have areproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed,AlbrechtDurerpainstakingly drewhis brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingersstretchedskyward. He called hispowerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almostimmediatelyopened their hearts tohis great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love, "The PrayingHands." The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a secondlook.Let it be your reminder,if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!