Free to Grieve

The thought of my affliction and my homelessness

   is wormwood and gall!

My soul continually thinks of it

   and is bowed down within me.

But this I call to mind,

   and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,

   his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

   great is your faithfulness.

"The Lord is my portion," says my soul,

   "therefore I will hope in him."

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,

   to the soul that seeks him.

It is good that one should wait quietly

   for the salvation of the Lord.

Lamentations 3:19-26

Angel of Grief

STORY, William Wetmore, 1819-1895

Relief sculpture

Cimitero degli stranieri acattolici al Testaccio

Rome, Italy

"Angel of Grief” was carved in 1894 by William Wetmore Story and serves as a headstone for him and his wife, Emelyn, in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome. Story was an American sculptor who studied and lived in Italy to help him with commissions he was receiving in the US.

The angel portrayed despairs over a tomb; her posture and emotion reflect the sentiments of the Lamentations text as it is applied to the death of Jesus. The Lamentations passage expresses affliction and darkness, but also recognizes hope in the Lord. Holy Saturday is a significant moment, one in which the world looks bleak and hope disappears. Jesus’ disciples spent this day in great fear and grief, because their master was dead. They had forgotten his promise to rise again on the third day, and they mourned their loss while fearing for their own lives. These were their darkest hours as they questioned all that they had seen and heard, failing to see how the Lord’s mercies would come in the morning.

Christians today celebrate the resurrection far more than they recognize Christ’s suffering, but we must go through the darkness of Holy Saturday before arriving at Easter. We must encounter and deal with loss and death before we can celebrate life. It is in these moments when all hope seems to be lost that we acknowledge our own need for the Savior, and that recognition makes Easter morning that much sweeter. This angel is a memorial to the dead, and its weeping honors both the death and the life of Emelyn Story. The angel weeps like William wept for his wife, like the disciples and angels wept for Christ, and like we weep for the grace given to us all on Easter morning. ~ Maggie Jarrell

http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/diglib-fulldisplay.pl?SID=20131002822326660&code=ACT&RC=54142&Row=1

The wound is the place

where the light enters you.

~ Rumi

When I despair, I remember that all through history,

the way of truth and love has always won.

There have been murderers and tyrants,

and for a time they can seem invincible.

But in the end they always fall.

Think of it, always.

~ Mohandas Gandhi

A very special treat!

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Brown Bag Lunch/Lecture

Center for the Arts Evergreen

There is still a LOT of water coming over the dam at the lake,

but once again it is open to walk around the lake.

Several new channels and sandbars have been formed.

Ultimately, the only power to which man should aspire

is that which he exercises over himself.

~ Elie Wiesel

October 6, 2013 Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

Previous OPQs may be found at:

http://www.dotjack.com/opq.htm

The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!" The Lord replied, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea', and it would obey you.

"Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from ploughing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'? Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'"

Luke 17:5-10

Agnus Day, by James Wetzstein