I look at this image of Jesus long and often to console myself these days. Titled simply, Christ Blessing, it was painted by the Flemish artist, Hans Memling (c1430/40). Hidden away in a private collection, it was discovered only recently and put up for auction in 2012.
Jesus wears a dark earthen-colored robe; his left hand rests on a ledge, as if looking into our world, weary with violence and death. He blesses us with his right hand. His almond shaped eyes see and know. The background is golden, revealing his divinity. But notice this — the light from his face seems to be pushing back the swirling dark clouds. These storm clouds of course are an image of the state of the human mind and heart. Here is my prayer before Memling's painting of Christ Blessing.
O Jesus,
we are through half the month
and already there have been
forty-five mass shootings.
With each massacre,
the nation,
paralyzed with fear,
gun sales skyrocket.
Lord, have mercy.
These gods of metal,
more vigorously defended than your gospel word,
the relic of your cross,
your crown of thorns,
the bones of your saints,
your mother's mantle.
Christ, have mercy.
The nation splintered
with suspicion of the others,
angry and defensive,
our rationalizing,
defenses up,
willful ignorance,
even stupidity,
resistant indifference to the dead.
Lord, have mercy.
Authorities elected,
panderers to the basest instincts
of fury and angst,
who cling to votes,
blinded by power,
smug,
arrogant,
who campaign status-quo promises,
while others make promises,
unkept.
Christ have mercy.
Authorities who refuse to act —
selfish,
desperate,
agenda-seized,
the outer appearance distorted,
reflective
of hearts too small.
Lord, have mercy.
Flags at half staff —
now daily,
the numbed
cheap grace of
thoughts and prayers
"horrified"
"shocked" — really?
Christ have mercy.
Covid pandemic,
but gun epidemic,
classrooms,
parks
streets,
supermarkets,
malls,
theatres,
restaurants,
spas,
churches,
synagogues,
mosques,
workers on their dinner break.
The nation feels lost.
Lord have mercy.
Fretting families waiting for the saddest news,
grieving
the en-wombed child,
the dead toddler,
parent,
spouse,
partner,
friend,
colleague,
neighbor,
the quiet community
joy and trust stolen,
devolved into funerial depression.
Christ have mercy.
The nation's light dimmed —
the great, so what
or ignorant of the shame
covering us.
I fear we have forsaken you, O Jesus.
Lord, have mercy.
Blessing Christ,
Emmaus Christ,
restore confidence in us,
renew the stabilizing sense of belonging to each other,
revering each other.
Place new hope in us,
push back the squall clouds of our illness,
turn sorrowing hearts into strong hearts.
Christ in our darkness,
Christ searching for us,
Christ walking among us,
Christ journeying with us,
Christ knowing us in the
narrow,
tight,
afeard place —
the mournful,
abandoned,
heartbroken place.
Amen.
Fr. Stephen Morris
