Hearken to my voice, O Lord, when I call; have mercy on me and answer me. You speak in my heart and say, “Seek my face.” Your face, Lord, will I seek.
I love to read, but I’ll occasionally go through a phase when I don’t even want to pick up a book, so I’ll end up binge-watching something on TV for a few weeks. Then I’ll get tired of that and go back to reading. It’ll happen with other things as well, but… the Psalmist said, “You speak in my heart and say, ‘Seek my face.’ Your face, Lord, will I seek.” Have you ever gone through a phase when you just didn’t feel like seeking His face? I’m not going to ask you to raise your hand if you have, because that is not the kind of thing good Christian folk like to confess, but do you occasionally find yourself a bit tired of seeking Him, wondering about His will, and all that? As I said, I won’t ask you to confess, but if you say you’ve never experienced those feelings, I would say you need to go to confession for fibbing. It is something we all experience at times, and in those moments, our faith is truly demonstrated.
A mature Christian will continue in their faith and practices, knowing that these are times of wilderness rather than abandonment by God. However, others will begin to drift away, and perhaps one of the first things to go is prayer. When it seems we’re filling the air with words that are unheard and accomplish nothing, why bother? But it is the prayers in the wilderness that will see us through, because it is through them that we maintain the relationship with the Father.
Julian of Norwich, whom we celebrate today, spoke about this in the second part of her fourteenth revelation, contained in her Revelations of Divine Love. “Our Lord is very glad and happy that we should pray, and he expects it and wants it… for this is what [the Lord] says, ‘Pray earnestly even though you do not feel like praying, for it is helping you even if you do not feel it doing you any good, even if you see nothing, yes, even if you think you cannot pray; for in dryness and in barrenness, in sickness and weakness, then your prayers give me great pleasure, even if you feel that they are hardly pleasing to you at all. And it is so in my sight with all your trustful prayers.’” Julian says, “God accepts the good intentions and the effort of those who serve him, whatever we are feeling.” (p.100)
To us, it may seem fruitless, but in a time of barrenness, when we feel the absence of God, stopping prayer is to break off from the relationship. So, regardless of how we feel, we must stay engaged because it is through our faithfulness and this engagement that we will once again feel the presence of God.
If you say, “I just don’t feel like praying. I don’t have anything to say,” then take the good advice of Archbishop Michael Ramsey, “Pray that you could pray,” but don’t stop praying.
When I travel, especially by myself, I don’t always have a set agenda. There are places I want to see, but I’m not rushing from one to the next just to tick them off a list, and I don’t try to fill every moment. For me, that makes things more relaxing and leaves time to fit in the unexpected. I learned about one unexpected place while taking a cab from the airport in Luxembourg to my hotel (I quickly learn to use public transportation because it’s much less expensive, but when I’m schlepping bags, it’s just easier to take the cab).
When the cab driver learned I was an American, he said, “You know, your General Patton is buried here.” I didn’t know that, so I added it to my list of possibilities. A few days later, when one of the places I wanted to visit was closed, I decided to take the trip out to the Luxembourg American Cemetery. General Patton is there, set apart from the others, but he is only one of many, and his grave marker is the same as all the others.
What I never expect when entering places like this is the emotional response. Even before you walk through the main gates, it starts to hit you, so I was intentional about not looking up until my heart was ready… and then I did.
There is General Patton’s cross, and then there are 4,958 other crosses for known individuals, 371 crosses for the unknown, and 119 Stars of David. Of those buried there, you will also find 22 sets of brothers. It is a sea of white markers for those who died near that place.
At one point, I was the only person in the entire cemetery. As I slowly passed among the markers, I read the names, but I was specifically looking for anyone from Oklahoma. I found Roy W Roe, Private First Class, 319th Infantry, 80th Division. He died on March 15, 1945. Based on what I’ve learned so far, he was twenty-four years old and married to Marion.
As I stood looking at his marker, I said to him, “Today, I see you.” For me, that meant, “I see you as a person, as a young man who had a life ahead of him but died so far from home, and as someone so very young. I see you, not as a memory or a marker, but as a person.”
As I continued to walk among them, I read their names and told each of them, “I see you.” I don’t know if that makes sense to anyone, but it did to me. It was the only way I had to honor them and the sacrifice they made.
In truth, all of us like to be seen, maybe not in the spotlight, but acknowledged. Being seen validates who we are as human beings and affirms that our existence counts for something, even if only to a very few. However, knowing that we will be seen raises an important question: When someone sees us, who or what do they see? There, I saw brave men and one woman who gave so much, but what do others see when they see me? What do others see when they see you?
A lot of time and money goes into appearance—clothes, hair, fitness, etc.—but that is like the cover of a book. You can look like a million bucks and still be a Cruella De Vil. Yet when we are truly seen, who or what do people see? This is a question that relates to one of the many lessons in today’s Gospel reading.
Philip said to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” You can hear the exasperation in Jesus’ voice as he responds, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?”
Jesus’ answer provides part of the foundation for our understanding of the Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. If you see Jesus, you see the Father. If you witness the works of the Holy Spirit, you witness the works of God, and so on.
In part of Jesus’ great priestly prayer on the night before He was crucified, He prays, “As you, Father, are in me, and I in you” (John 17:21). There are the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and although separate, they are one. See one, and you see the others. So, what about us? What about you? If I pass you on the street and say to you, “I see you,” who or what do I see? Who or what do you want me to see?
St. Paul says to us in his letter to the Galatians, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). If we are alive to Christ, we have died to ourselves; therefore, when I say, “I see you,” I should see Jesus. Question: Do I?
At the east end of the Sistine Chapel, on the altar wall, is Michelangelo’s great painting of the Last Judgment. At the top is the figure of Christ. With His right hand, He is calling the righteous up to the Kingdom of God, while with His left He is casting out the wicked. The righteous are escorted by angels, and the wicked are greeted by demons.
Since the painting’s unveiling in 1541, there has been high demand for copies and similar works. One of those who created a similar work was Raphaël Coxie (COKE-see). In his painting, the figures are near life size, so the painting is large, approximately ten feet by twelve feet. It hangs in the museum in Ghent, Belgium. However, as with many similar paintings of judgment, it originally hung in a courtroom as a reminder to the criminally inclined of the consequences should they continue down such a path.
Given the size and subject matter, it really caught my attention, but it was so large that it was difficult to focus on one thing. Still, after studying it, my eye fell on the figure on the cover of your bulletin. She is located at the bottom center of the painting—the woman with her jeweled tiara. Yet it wasn’t so much her as what she is holding. I looked at it for a good long while, then realized she was holding up a mirror and that there is a face in the mirror. However, unlike the other images in the painting, the image in the mirror is vague. It was then that I thought I understood. Coxie kept the image in the mirror vague because he wanted us to see ourselves.
Imagine you are on trial and you see this painting. You are reminded that some are called to Heaven while others are cast down into hell, and here is this woman, saying to you with her eyes, her expression, and her gesture, “Look in the mirror and judge yourself. Which one will you be? Called up or cast down?”
If we are alive in Christ, we have died to ourselves. When people see us, they should see Jesus. Do they? Well, answer this: When you look in Coxie’s mirror, who or what do you see? Do you see Jesus? Do you see someone being called up or someone being cast down?
Philip said to Jesus, “Show us the Father,” and Jesus replied, “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” If someone said to you, “Show us Jesus,” would you even in the smallest way be able to say, “If you have seen me, you have seen something of Jesus”? The scary part is that we should be able to say that. If that is not true, why did Jesus go on to say to Philip, “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father”? If we are to do the same work Jesus did, we should look like Him. Right? When we look in Coxie’s mirror, we should see something of the Imago Dei, the Image of God. It won’t be perfect; only One was perfect, but Jesus should be recognizable in each of us.
When we look in a regular mirror, we look for all sorts of things—do I have something caught in my teeth, is my hair combed, am I getting old, etc.? I would challenge you to look in Coxie’s mirror and ask, “Do I look like Jesus? Will I be called up or will I be cast down?”
In seeing Jesus, we can see the Father. In seeing you, others should be able to see Jesus. Perhaps it is only as one sees in a mirror dimly, but there should be something of Jesus that is visible.
You are seen by others. Who or what do they see?
Let us pray: God, our Father, You redeemed us and made us Your children in Christ. Through Him, You have saved us from death and given us Your Divine life of grace. By becoming more like Jesus on earth, may we come to share His glory in Heaven. Give us the peace of Your kingdom, which this world does not give. By Your loving care, protect the good You have given us. Open our eyes to the wonders of Your Love that we may serve You with a willing heart. Amen.
Saint Catherine of Siena by Franceschini Baldassare, 17th century
Catherine of Siena was born in 1347, the twenty-fourth of her parents’ twenty-five children. At the age of seven, she vowed her life to Christ. At the age of fifteen, she cut her hair in defiance of her parents, who were pressing her to marry. At the age of eighteen, she joined the Dominicans. At the age of twenty-one, she had a mystical experience in which she became spiritually espoused to Christ. Those events alone are enough, but through her work, particularly her writings, she became a force in her community and beyond, even with Popes.
In her letters and her Dialogue, perhaps the greatest of her writings, she recounts a soul’s journey through the mystical experience of God. There is much to discuss in her writings, so I’ll focus on one idea: she writes a prayer to Christ, speaking to Him about His great love for God’s people and asking what could drive the Creator of all to pursue His creation so recklessly.
“O priceless Love! You showed your flamed desire when you ran like a blind and drunk man to the opprobrium [the disgrace] of the cross. A blind man can’t see, and neither can a drunk man when he is fast drunk. And thus he [Christ], almost like someone dead, blind and drunk, lost himself for our salvation.” Continuing this theme of drunkenness in her Dialogue, she says, “O mad lover! Why then are you so mad? Because you have fallen in love with what you have made! You are pleased and delighted over her within yourself, as if you were drunk for her salvation. She runs away from you, and you go looking for her. She strays, and you draw closer to her. You clothed yourself in our humanity, and nearer than that you could not have come.”
Continuing elsewhere, she writes, “O unutterable love, even though you saw all the evils that all your creatures would commit against your infinite goodness, you acted as if you did not see and set your eye only on the beauty of your creature, with whom you fell in love, like one drunk and crazy with love. And in love you drew us out of yourself, giving us being.”
I am certain that we’ve all been in love before, or at least thought we were, and in that state, I feel certain we’ve all done some pretty stupid things. I’m also fairly certain that most have overindulged in some intoxicating beverage and done some rather stupid things then as well. If you have had the fortune (or misfortune) of being both in love and intoxicated, the level of stupidity can reach even higher levels. That is how Catherine says that Jesus loves us, as though He were drunk and in stupid love with us. That may sound crazy and, to some, irreverent if not blasphemous, but how would you describe a love that lays down his life for you? Logic can’t explain it. Duty doesn’t come close. I suppose we could just say He was crazy, but if we have faith, if we believe that it is the Father’s desire that all should be saved even if we are wicked, then we must at least consider that Catherine was onto something: a love that appears to be a drunken insanity, but which is in fact pure and true.
You don’t have to agree with Catherine’s images of God’s love for us, but take some time to reflect on that love. Jesus was not intoxicated by wine, but how would you describe and explain His actions? You might just discover that a crazy, drunken lover is the best you can do.
It was a rather noisy beginning today—the renovation of the room above me started. I said, to myself, “Self, you need to do penance, so just endure,” but then my selfish self said, “Nope. Not while on vacation!” So, I did something very much unlike me, I asked for a new room. The staff was kind and understanding and understood that I can do penance when I return home, and gave me a new room. Very nice.
Once settled, I did something unusual for someone who is about 5,000 miles from home, I spent the day writing. The mind took an amazing journey and I put down many words (even ran out of ink in my pen and had to go in search of a new one!)
I do believe the next vaca will be a writing retreat. We shall see. The story (have I already mentioned this) is Execution Day. It will be a part of a collection of short stories—nothing like I’ve written/published before—titled Seven Deadly. At this point, they are all a bit weird, but too much fun to write. I’m always killin’ off somebody!
At about 7:30 p.m., I realized that I had only a light breakfast to eat and went in search of ramen. The ones near by were closed, but I found “Asian Soul” and had some delicious Thai food and beer… I think the second beer was actually from China.
Fried shrimp cakes with an onion, garlic, and pepper pickled for dipping.Shrimp in green curry, toned down for me. Perfect amount of spice and so very good.
During and afterward, I stopped to take a few pictures. This first one is called “The Ordinary in Light” (doesn’t he think he is the artiste giving his pictures names!)
On the way back to the hotel, I saw the light playing off the buildings and…
And from the balcony of the new room (sorry, brother, no more garden)…
Tomorrow will be a bit busier. Following breakfast, I will make my way to Adikt Ink where Matteo will give my new adult “sticker.” Something to remember this journey by and inspired by Joan, my hero in Rouen, France. Afterward, I will visit a local bookstore where I can find a Stephen King in some language other than English (I won’t be able to read it, but other than the new “sticker” it will be one of my few souvenirs. FYI: the exchange rate is miserable, so I’ve done little to no shopping.
During my occasional scroll today, I came across this from Fyodor Dostoevsky: “From the outside, you seem mature with a philosopher’s mind. But inside, you’re just a child lost in a sweet delusion.” Don’t be afraid to be a child. They are always curious and poking their little noses in all sorts of interesting places. Along the way, someone is bound to tell you “No!” or “It’s not possible!” Don’t you believe it. Even a sixty-one year old child is finding out those sweet delusions can, in fact, be reality.
May you have a blessed day, may your Grand Marnier always be a long pour, and may Our Lord and God bless you immensely. He does love all His silly children.
For those curious about The Queen, she apparently has a new favorite game at The Cat Resort…
I debated on whether or not to bring a coat with me. I’m glad the warm natured John lost that bet. It was a chilly day with wind. Still, that did not stop me from getting out. First stop: Notre Dame Cathedral at Luxembourg. FYI: Notre Dame means “Our Lady,” so there are many churches named Notre Dame.
A view from the outside…
This is the only view I got. Why? Because it is closed for the next three days. Oh, well. I crossed the street and went underground… literally.
Welcome to the Pétrusse Casemates, the underground portion of the fortifications. Once you enter, it is all down hill.
AUSTRIAN STAIRWAY This impressive stairway, hewn into the rock, was constructed in 1728 under the Austrians. Via 131 steps, it leads down into the Pétrusse valley. Through a double door, the passageway went on up to the fort on the opposite side. A direct underground connection was thus created between the inner and outer fortifications.ILLUMINATION Four kinds of illumination were deployed in the underground fortifications, just as they were in the mines up until the 19th century: candles, pinewood spills, oil lamps, and tallow dips with animal fats. Inventories show that in the Luxembourg fortress it was mainly oil lamps and candles that were used for illumination in the casemates.
I actually thought the sign over this doorway said something of interest, but after arriving back at the hotel… “Smoking Prohibited.”
RAVELIN DU PÂTÉ The so-called Ravelin du pâté® (from the French •pâté”, an irregular platform] was built by the Spaniards in about 1673/74 to protect the main wall of the fortress. The interior consists of two artillery galleries, one above the other, with embrasures for the defence of the valley. There is a small platform on the top for the placement of artillery.
Once at the bottom of the valley, you have an excellent view of the bridge. Carved into the stone a little further down the river was a beautiful church, also closed, but I tried to get a few photos through the windows.
Chapel of St Quirinus (Gräinskapell) The Chapel of St Quirinus is situated in the valley of the Pétrusse, close to a spring that is said to work miracles. Its water is indeed said to have a beneficial effect on diseases of the eye. Originally, this was probably the site of a pagan cult, which was then converted into a Christian place of worship under the Romans. The chapel is dedicated to St Quiri-nus, who until 1666 was the patron saint of the city. The inside of the chapel consists of a double grotto, the larger being the church and the other the sacristy. The Gothic-style façade was probably erected around 1350 by the Knights of the Teutonic Order. The little steeples and roof of this pilgrimage site were added in 1885 during a restoration carried out by the State architect Charles Arendt (1825-1910). The miracle-performing spring situated at the bottom of the chapel can no longer be accessed. It has been closed over by a grid.
At this point, I stood staring and wondering where to go. Pulling out my trusty map, the decision wasn’t difficult and only a 30 minute bus ride. It is not something I am generally drawn to, but I’m so very glad I took the trip. It was very moving. Something in your soul will ache.
5,076 Headstones
4,958 Latin Crosses
119 Stars of David
371 markers of the Unknown
22 sets of brothers
Luxembourg American Cemetery is the only American military cemetery in Luxembourg.When I get home, I would like to try and find out more about him. Maybe send his family the picture.
At the time, I was the only one here. I thought that was sad.
As I walked through, I couldn’t help but touch the markers and read the names… it seemed to be the only way I could honor them. I kept thinking, “Today, I see you.”
Among those buried here…
A truly sacred place.
That it may please Thee to make wars to cease in all the world; to give to all nations unity, peace, and concord; and to bestow freedom upon all peoples, We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord.
Okay… breathe. I don’t know where I saw this, but I thought it was important:
After today, my soul needs sushi. Be back shortly with pictures of food and beer.
So good…
And, as I did not get one of the beer (Sapporo, naturally), you get your’s truly with his Grand Marniner.
Yesterday was a much easier day of travel from Rouen to Luxembourg—took the train. We did not crash into any buildings.
After so many days of going, I took the day off. My only reason for getting up and dressed was breakfast and phone charger—I forgot to bring my converter for the outlets. The other hotels had USB ports, but this one did not. Glad to have brought my battery pack to charge the phone last night.
After returning to the hotel, I did the only logical thing: took a nap. Then got up and worked on a short story, Execution Day, which I hope will be part of a collection of short stories that I’ve been working on—Seven Deadly—although there will be more than seven stories, and they will not all be too deadly.
At one point, as I sat here in my PJs and writing, I got a bit chilly. I do not have a robe or slippers with me, so did the best I could. The result: me sitting in my PJs, wearing my overcoat (which I’m very glad I brought) and my hiking boots.
Selfie Stick and timer set on phone + mad dash to strike the pose.
After such hard work, it was time for some food. I went for something completely different and will likely be sitting up in bed all night because my white-bread American stomach doesn’t handle spicy food too well, but it was so very good.
The meal…
I had no idea what I was ordering, so relied on my very kind host to help me out. I had at first wanted to attempt one other dish, but it had three 🌶️🌶️🌶️ beside it. My host said it wasn’t possible to make it milder, so we agreed on a dish with 🌶️🌶️, and he said he could get it down to 🌶️. It was perfect! Timmuri with Sichuan pepper, onion, ginger, garlic, and Nepali spice. I added some lamb to get a bit extra. The nan was with garlic. He had me first try the Cobra beer from India (after getting it, I remembered that I had it once before in Lisbon) and then he said I must try a Nepalese beer… excellent. Much more carbonation and natural taste.
This is just an American talking here, but… it seems that when you eat out in various countries, if you eat at a “local” restaurant, you’ll likely get good food, but the attitude that comes with it really puts me off—they’re doing you a favor by deigning to have you seated in their establishment. However, if you choose an ethnic restaurant, well, like you, they are the foreigners. They know what it is like to be a stranger in a strange land and so, to me, they are so much kinder and helpful. Look, I willingly admit, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time and I sure as heck don’t know what I’m ordering, so when you ask, “What do you recommend?” the locals will roll their eyes, but the foreigners like you will smile and be so very helpful. Something about it in Leviticus (perhaps 19:33-34) but I won’t get preachy.
There is a park behind my hotel that I can see from the window…
…so on the way, in an attempt to walk off some of that meal, I took a stroll. Beautiful flowers that my brother would be disgusted with me if I didn’t stop and smell. So, for the brother…
And don’t forgetting be the babbling fountain:
As I stood next to the water, these two came cruising by…
The last two days have been the most relaxing of the expedition (although I’ve loved it all—except maybe for the long bus trip, but I did get to see the Eiffel Tower and I was in Paris), and on several occasions, I have caught myself smiling for no dang reason at all. Those around me probably think they have a crazy person on their hands, but… No… just me. It is a good feeing to smile for no reason at all.
I think I’ll work on my short story for a bit longer, then do some reading. I’m very much into Haruki Murakami these days and have been working through 1Q84, which is delightfully Murakami.
My days may be off, but we are seeing the world. I hope this post is more than a photo dump like the other day, but… I’ve experienced so much. Let’s see what happens…
Yesterday was a travel day extraordinaire! Twelve hours from point A to point B. One of those hours was stupidity on my part in not knowing how to read my ticket, the other eleven hours were automobiles and buses (two of them to be exact). The first half of the trip was good, but when I hit Paris — OY! Note to self: when reading your bus ticket, don’t look for destination—look for bus number. I was probably standing directly next to my outbound bus for thirty minutes, but the board never said, “Rouen.” Instead, it said the next stop (whatever that was), and I missed it. Had to purchase a new ticket for the next bus. Dang near missed that one as well until I realized my mistake.
There was a fun sight along the way:
Paris traffic was c.r.a.z.y. and the bus driver headed down the wrong street twice and had to back up! but I finally arrived (two hours later than planned) in Rouen, France. Life is good! I’m in France for Pete sake! (Sorry, “Pierre sake!) The fella checking me in at the hotel was VERY French in attitude, but I smiled. It was dark, but I decided to see what I could see. It was so worth the 12 hours of traveling. I came around a corner… I don’t know that a tear ran down my cheek, but it was a close call.
This morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to see what the city offered, but I did have one destination in mind. First things first, though… I went back to the cathedral to see the inside, but no sooner had I arrived and they were ushering us all out. What? Turns out, Mass was about to begin. Well, my Anglican friends, I kept my mouth shut and had a seat. What a surprise and blessing for me: from my Facebook post… “When your heathen soul gets lucky and you show up on time to attend mass with the Archbishop of Rouen and Primate of Normandy, Monseigneur Dominique Lebrun. Second photo from web.”
At this point I was feeling good. I continued with my tour, seeing what I could see. Only problem: so much of what I wanted to see was behind locked gates and I wasn’t allowed to get close. Just you wait! My first time through the 12-century gothic Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Rouen.
1000 years in the weather has done much damage to everything. They are working on the restoration, but it is a slow process. St. James: notice the shell on his cap. Having walked a portion of the Camino de Santiago, that shell is like a secret sign and your eye is immediately drawn to it. I stopped dead in the middle of a street later in the day. I’ll show you that in a minute.I would like to say that It was Jesus who caught my attention in this picture, but it was that red hair. I don’t know what that says about me. I haven’t identified the artist.
We’ll be back at 2:30 p.m. but for now, I headed to my next destination—and the point of coming to Rouen to begin with—the place where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.
Friends, Joan of Arc has been a hero of mine forever. This was on the list of places to visit from the first time I came to Europe. It was simple, noisy, dirty, smelly, drunks being loud, people oblivious, none of it mattered… I pulled out my small rosary and rubbed it in the dirt of this place.
I came back later in the day and found the spot with the sun directly behind the marker.
The small Joan of Arc medal on my rosary that came home to her ashes…
Sitting here shaking my head… don’t know how to explain.
I stopped and had some lunch, seafood, then made my way back to the cathedral. I had read somewhere that there is a tour that begins at 2:30 on Saturday. It is not posted anywhere or publicized. Show up and join in. I did. For the next three hours, I visited the parts of the cathedral I wasn’t allowed to get close to and parts I didn’t even know existed! Amazing. There were only ten of us on the tour. Did I mention it was all in French? I didn’t understand a word said, but it was absolutely fascinating.
The Baptistry…
It was all I could do not to straighten that candle!
The Joan of Arc side chapel…
Chapelle de la Vierge (Chapel of the Virgin)…
St. George… “Kill the dragon!!”
And I haven’t forgotten…
Some of you may remember this photo…
It was taken in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France, the starting point of the Camino de Santiago in 2024. Well, today, as I was walking along, I came across this…
The Camino is not done with me. It keeps calling in the most remarkable ways. Just wait until this October! I’m still blown away by this development, but that’s later. For now… Yeah… “Buen Camino!” Mine continues! God is good.
My day and my life. It was and is a good one. Tomorrow, is another travel day. Back to Luxembourg. There are some places I want to see and I’m planning on a couple of “vacation” days where I look out the window of my hotel room, read my book, sip some wine, and not worry about the world too much.
I’ll be honest, there are only so many landscapes and portraits that will remain interesting to me, and this place had its share, but there are several pieces of religious art (of course!) that got my attention. The pictures may be at weird angles or I’m only showing detail shots because the lighting in the museum was odd and there was a lot of glare.
First up is The Annunciation by Peter Paul Rubens.
Rubens’ work emphasises both the sacred and secular nature of the event. Gabriel is accompanied by a ray of divine light and two plump putti, the latter of whom shower Mary with petals. Mary receives the message in a domestic interior. The vase of flowers on the table, the sewing basket and the sleeping cat all enhance the intimate atmosphere. Rubens began this canvas in 1610. That he did not complete it until much later has been deduced from certain stylistic details such as the use of light and space and the overall dynamism of the scane. Rubens sold the painting to the Marquis of Leganés during a diplomatic visit to the spanish court in Madrid in 1628. The latter gave it a place in his private chapel.
Honestly, I think the cat wanders from one painting to the next, as I saw it again in The Supper at Emmaus by Jean-Baptiste de Champaigne.
There’s actually an interesting history of cats in art. Definitely worth a bit more research.
Next up is The Calling of St. Matthew by Marinus van Reymerswale. I’m quite certain you know why this one was selected. (Hint: I serve as priest at St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church.) It is clear from the painting, even with all the hustle and bustle going on around him, Matthew only has eyes for Jesus.
Next was a very large Last Judgment scene by Raphaël Coxcie, reminiscent of and compared to the Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel (not a favorable comparison). It caught my eye because of the subject, but then there was this one little detail that got me to sit down and think. I’ve circled it below.
Perhaps the closeup will show my interest…
The painting was originally placed in the courtroom at the town hall in Ghent (apparently, many courtrooms held similar paintings of the Last Judgment as a reminder to the punishments in store for a life of crime—should we post more of these?) Question: Is the woman holding up a small mirror? The image in the mirror isn’t clear, so it could be anyone. Was Coxcie asking, “Do you see yourself? Will you end up here with us?” I stopped to consider that and prayed that I would be one of those on the left side of the canvas being called up to Paradise. Not related at all—for the Stephen King fans out there—doesn’t the image in the mirror look like Pennywise? I suppose they’ll float down there for sure!
Shut up, John, and show us some more pictures. Okay.
Detail photo of Interior of St. Peter’s Church in Rome by Wilhelm Schubert van Ehrenberg:
Detail of The Crypt of the San Martino ai Monti Basilica in Rome by François-Marius Granet:
Saint Sebastian released by the Roman widow Irene and her servant by Melchior de la Mars:
Interesting Saint fact: Although most frequently depicted as being shot by arrows, St. Sebastian survived this initial attempt at martyrdom. He was nursed back to health by Irene, but later would be clubbed to death under the orders of Emperor Diocletian (not a very nice guy.)
Finally, my favorite in the museum: Mary Magdalene by Alfred Stevens:
Early in her career, star actress Sarah Bernhardt meets the Belgian painter Alfred Stevens. As the painter par excellence of Parisian high society, he introduces Bernhardt to painting. It is the beginning of a close friendship. She takes lessons in his painting class for women and models for several portraits. Stevens may also have been inspired by Bernhardt’s captivating gaze for this painting of Mary Magdalene. The skull and the desolate landscape in the background reflect the theme of the converted sinner who withdraws from public life, becoming a hermit. Typical of Stevens’ approach is the sensuality and melancholic gaze with which Mary Magdalene looks at the viewer. This obscures the religious meaning of the remorseful penitent, which shocked the general public at the time.
You be the judge: a young Sarah Bernhardt. She was Jewish, but early in her life, she wanted to become a nun.
On my way back to the hotel, I saw where the Good Lord was creating His own art. Spring is springing in Belgium
Tomorrow is a travel day. I’m off to Rouen, France to see Joan of Arc. If you ever decide to travel to Ghent, I highly recommend picking up a CityCard Ghent (available at many places). You can get a 48- or 72-hour card. At first, the price seems high, but I got my money’s worth yesterday. It covers all public transportation, museums, water taxis, and many other places, if not completely, a large percentage. For example, I paid €49 for a 48 hour card. I took 12 bus rides yesterday. At €3/ride… yeah. Plus, all you have to do is show it to the driver and you’re good to go.
I’ll probably have a few travel pictures tomorrow, but will definitely see you in Rouen!
What a day and what a long one. Tonight, I want to get some pictures out, but there won’t be as much commentary… or we’ll see what happens. I did a lot of walking, and I saw so many amazing things, so let’s take a look. Warning: this is essentially an unedited photo dump.
I sort of learned how to navigate the public transportation in Japan, so I didn’t feel too intimidated here. I jumped on and after a 30 minute bus ride with one transfer, I easily made my way to the old city and Gravensteen Castle. It dates from 1180 and the current restoration took place between 1893 and 1903. There are multiple spiral staircases, but I managed without too much huffing and puffing.
If you need a bit of medieval armory, they have some very interesting pieces. The one sword is about six feet long. Good luck swinging that!
Later in the day, I took a scenic boat tour. This is the view of the castle from the boat:
Then I walked and enjoyed some of the sights of the old city:
I then entered the Church of St. Nicholas. The day was cool, but the temperature dropped at least ten degrees as I entered… not that my poor heathen soul was the reason for the decrease.
One of the “artistic” shots of the day…
And then, I was at St. Bavo’s Cathedral. I hadn’t planned on it, in fact, I have a ticket for tomorrow, but then… when in Ghent! The pictures do no justice to the Ghent Altarpiece and the Mystical Lamb. I bought a book and will happily show it to you. Truly magnificent!
And now for something completely different! Graffiti Alley… this narrow alleyway is covered from floor to ceiling in graffiti. There is only one shop along the way, and they serve an exceptional espresso and make the most decadent chocolate treats—mine was a cookie filled with raspberry cream and covered with dark chocolate. Yeah… I ate it all.
At this stage, the dogs were barking, and I was ready for a sit-down, although not quite ready to return to the hotel. A fifty-minute canal tour proved to be just the ticket.
The tour guide—who could jump from English, French, German, and Flemish without skipping a beat—actually took his hands off the wheel and took the same picture above. Said it was his favorite view and this was the most beautiful he had ever seen it. I thought I had better do the same.
That is all the photos for now. I returned to the hotel, had a nice cold Belgian beer…
…and worked on that short story for the Writing Battle. Perhaps I shouldn’t be drinking beer while writing, because it has taken a turn for the more-weird-than-usual, but it is fun. Tomorrow is museum day. I’ll try to do more writing with the post but I do hope you enjoy today’s pictures. They truly do none of this beautiful city justice.
Candle in a Cave 