The Hands of Christ

“The blessing hands of Christ are like a roof that protects us. But at the same time, they are a gesture of opening up, tearing the world open so that heaven my enter in, may become "present" within it.” ― Pope Benedict XVI,

The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo, 1511 ca.

Detail of The Calling of St. Matthew by Caravaggio

Detail of La Pieta by Michelangelo 1498-99 Venus and Mars by Sandro Botticelli, 1483

The grace of the moment and of art studies, as well as a contemplative spirit has prompted me to write the following...blessed be God forever.

In the first painting, The Calling of St. Matthew, Baroque artists Caravaggio 'quotes' the hand that Michelangelo fashioned for the hand of God in the Creation of Adam, seen in the second painting.

In the third painting here, Michelangelo 'quotes' the hand painted by preceding Renaissance artist, Botticelli in his work, Venus and Mars. Mars (the god of war) is seen here 'conquered' by war, yet Venus (the goddess of love) is awake and ready--for love is always ready. "I slept, but my heart was awake." (Song of Songs 5:2) Michelangelo brings these two figures/ideas together in his Pieta. He brings to union and distinction the two natures of Christ, brought to consummation upon the Cross. Christ, was conquered by death and suffering, yet love was ever awake, ever ready--simply through his quotation of Botticelli's work.

This brings to mind and to light, the 'enigmatic' quote by Dostoevsky-

that somehow, 'Beauty will save the world.'

More thoughts..so many thoughts to come..

Place your mind in the mirror of eternity;
Place your soul in the splendor of glory;
Place your heart in the figure of the divine substance;
And, through contemplation, transform your entire being into the image of the Divine One himself,
So that you, yourself, may also experience what his friends experience

when they taste the hidden sweetness

that God alone has kept from the beginning
For those who love him.

-Excerpt from the letters of St. Clare of Assisi to Agnes of Prague

Rosa Mystica

by Gerard Manley Hopkins S.J.

'The Rose is a mystery' - where is it found?
Is it anything true? Does it grow on the ground?
It was made of the earth's mould, but it went from men's eyes,
And its place is a secret, and shut in the skies.

In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine
Find me a place by thee, Mother of mine.

But where was it formerly? Which is the spot
That was blest in it once, though now it is not?
It is Galilee's growth; it grew at God's will
and broke into bloom upon Nazareth Hill.
In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine
I shall look on thy loveliness, Mother of mine.

What was its season, then? How long ago?
When was the summer that saw the Bud blow?
Two thousands of years are near upon past
Since its birth, and its bloom, and its breathing its last.
I shall keep time with thee, Mother of mine.
Tell me the name now, tell me its name:

The heart guesses easily, is it the same?
Mary, the Virgin, well the heart knows,
She is the Mystery, she is that Rose.
In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine
I shall come home to thee, Mother of mine.

Is Mary that Rose then? Mary, the tree?
But the Blossom, the Blossom there, who can it be?
Who can her Rose be? It could be but One:
Christ Jesus, our Lord - her God and her Son.
In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine
Shew me thy son, Mother, Mother of mine.

What was the color of that Blossom bright?
White to begin with, immaculate white.
But what a wild flush on the flakes of it stood,
When the Rose ran in crimsoning down the Cross wood.
In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine
I shall worship the Wounds with thee, Mother of mine.

How many leaves had it? Five they were then,
Five like the senses, and members of men;
Five is the number by nature, but now
They multiply, multiply, who can tell how.
In the Gardens of God, in the daylight divine
Make me a leaf in thee, Mother of mine.

Does it smell sweet, too, in that holy place?
Sweet unto God, and the sweetness is grace;
The breath of it bathes the great heaven above,
In grace that is charity, grace that is love.
To thy breast, to thy rest, to thy glory divine
Draw me by charity, Mother of mine.