A Prayer of Heartache and Pleading

 

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

 

El Greco's Christ as Saviour

This painting is titled: Christ Blessing (The Saviour of the World) or Christ as Saviour. I have even seen it called simply, The Saviour. It was painted by Domenikos Theotokopoulos who is nicknamed El Greco - "The Greek." El Greco was born in 1541 in what is now Crete, then part of the Republic of Venice, known as the Center of Post-Byzantine Art. It is said that El Greco received his earliest training as an icon painter. We can detect that in the posture and gaze of Jesus, the position of his blessing hand and even the triangular, instead of circular, nimbus. 

Considered a later work, this Christ was painted in 1612, shortly before El Greco's death in Toledo, Spain in 1614. Because his style was so expressive, unique and new, it has been difficult, if not impossible, to categorize. Infact, he was bitterly rejected. Doesn't this often happen with people who introduce a new idea or concept in any field: theology, art, music, even science. It wasn't until the 20th century that El Greco came to be truly valued. 

What strikes me at once is that there is no gold background, only the deepest darkness. Symbolic of heavenly light, icons are always created with a golden background. But El Greco's Christ seems to be stepping out of the darkness; HE IS THE LIGHT, symbolized by the artist's abundant use of white. We might remember the account of the Jesus' Transfiguration where his clothes became "whiter than any bleacher could make them." (Mt 17:1-8, Mk 9:2-8, Lk 9:28-36). Christ radiates Divine Light. Perhaps the black background images the dark night of our existence: our celebrating the daily record-breaking stock market while the poor don't benefit in any way; children without food security or health insurance; parents whose work doesn't supply a living wage while there's always money for space exploration and the "military industrial complex" (President Eisenhower's phrase); that within a few years the plastic in the ocean will outweigh the fish! Or does the black background image our charred forests, the war-charred people, the charred truth! 

O Christ our Saviour shed your light upon the path I have to tread, that I may keep it without stumbling and without faltering, and come in the end to see you face to face in the heavenly kingdom. Amen.

Jesus covers a crystal globe with his left hand — our world. It is a protective, wing-like covering. With his right hand, moving from thumb to smallest finger, he forms the Greek letters IC XC — the abbreviation for Jesus Christ. While that right hand of Jesus is raised, I am reminded of a young person in class raising his/her hand to ask a question. Does he want to ask our world (you? me?) a question? But a hand can go up into the air, even hesitantly, for fear that someone might deem the question foolish. Could El Greco's Christ be apprehensive, fearing our rejection? Maybe Christ would ask us: "Why can't you (especially men) stop killing each other?" Or perhaps Jesus, looking intently into our eyes, doesn't want to ask a question but seeks to get our attention, so to wake us up out of our global torpidity; our national comma.

Mutual love is the Master's new commandment, the distinguishing mark of the disciple, the principle work to be achieved by all human existence." Teilhard de Chardin