06 October 2008


This is a weird time of year to say it, but I was thinking about it for whatever reason.

Of all the scenes of our Lord's Passion, one that has always struck me as singularly, achingly, pathetically terrible is the Deposition. It's a picture of something we've all felt, and it is so emptying and defeating: as if we haven't been through enough already. It's looking at the huge pile of dishes after Thanksgiving dinner while everyone else settles in for a nap, having to deal with insurance companies after a car accident, being told not to get comfortable after the baby is out because you have stitches coming. The feeling is realized in the extreme at the cross: the injustice incomparable and colored with pure horror and anguish rather than just fatigue and annoyance.

The world's greatest execration, and yet there's work to be done. As usual, those who undertake it are the ones who most deserve to be spared the awful burden. Even the banality of evil we see here proven great.


William Weedon said...

Reminds me of Emily:

The bustle in the house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth.

The packing up the heart
The putting love away
We will not need to use again
Until eternity.

Or something like that. The stack of dishes. Dang. That drives it home. Cleaning up love is always a mess.

Rebekah said...

Emily. :) Clever girl.

Reb. Mary said...

Emily! Ah, Emily!