Christ’s Holiness, Christ’s Humanity (continued...) In this post-Christian world (so they say), I would like to share with you the paintings of a Russian Artist named Alexander Lepetuhin, who, upon being told by doctors he had only perhaps four years left to live, devoted his energies into his Faith. “Fine, I decided. Then all that time I will spend drawing Christ and his apostles.” Thus was born the Cycle of some 1000 Paintings of the Life of Christ and the Apostles. The paintings are hauntingly beautiful in their simplicity. Jesus’ humanity is depicted with realistic pathos. Whether with the maimed, the crippled, with women or children, he is the Word becoming flesh dwelling in the world of flesh, in the fallen world of sin and brokenness. Yet he comes to heal, to restore a fallen world. He calls us to follow him on the path towards the Kingdom of Heaven. He calls us to challenge the powers that be and to smash the darkness with holiness. For further information, see: https://russian-faith.com/culture/renown-russian-artist-finds-out-he-dying-paints-1000-paitings-about-christ-n1555 4. Jesus Dies: Now when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” which is translated, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” And Jesus cried out with a loud voice, and breathed His last… Now when evening had come, because it was the Preparation Day, that is, the day before the Sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent council member, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, coming and taking courage, went in to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Pilate marvelled that He was already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him if He had been dead for some time. So when he found out from the centurion, he granted the body to Joseph. (Mark 15: 33-34, 37, 42-47)
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Christ’s Holiness, Christ’s Humanity In this post-Christian world (so they say), I would like to share with you the paintings of a Russian Artist named Alexander Lepetuhin, who, upon being told by doctors he had only perhaps four years left to live, devoted his energies into his Faith. “Fine, I decided. Then all that time I will spend drawing Christ and his apostles.” Thus was born the Cycle of some 1000 Paintings of the Life of Christ and the Apostles. For further information, see: https://russian-faith.com/culture/renown-russian-artist-finds-out-he-dying-paints-1000-paitings-about-christ-n1555 3. Jesus Prays: And He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.” Then an angel appeared to Him from heaven, strengthening Him. And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. (Luke 22: 41-44) Christ’s Holiness, Christ’s Humanity (...continued) In this post-Christian world (so they say), I would like to share with you the paintings of a Russian Artist named Alexander Lepetuhin, who, upon being told by doctors he had only perhaps four years left to live, devoted his energies into his Faith. “Fine, I decided. Then all that time I will spend drawing Christ and his apostles.” Thus was born the Cycle of some 1000 Paintings of the Life of Christ and the Apostles. For further information, see: https://russian-faith.com/culture/renown-russian-artist-finds-out-he-dying-paints-1000-paitings-about-christ-n1555 2. Gethsemane: Then they came to a place which was named Gethsemane; and He said to His disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” And He took Peter, James, and John with Him, and He began to be troubled and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch.” He went a little farther, and fell on the ground, and prayed that if it were possible, the hour might pass from Him. And He said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for You. Take this cup away from Me; nevertheless, not what I will, but what You will.” Then He came and found them sleeping, and said to Peter, “Simon, are you sleeping? Could you not watch one hour? Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (Mark 14: 32-38) Christ’s Holiness, Christ’s Humanity In this post-Christian world (so they say), I would like to share with you the paintings of a Russian Artist named Alexander Lepetuhin, who, upon being told by doctors he had only perhaps four years left to live, devoted his energies into his Faith. “Fine, I decided. Then all that time I will spend drawing Christ and his apostles.” Thus was born the cycle of some 1000 Paintings of the Life of Christ and the Apostles. The paintings are hauntingly beautiful in their simplicity. Jesus’ humanity is depicted with realistic pathos. Whether with the maimed, the crippled, with women or children, he is the Word becoming flesh dwelling in the world of flesh, in the fallen world of sin and brokenness. Yet he comes to heal, to restore a fallen world. He calls us to follow him on the path towards the Kingdom of Heaven. He calls us to challenge the powers that be and to smash the darkness with holiness. For further information, see: https://russian-faith.com/culture/renown-russian-artist-finds-out-he-dying-paints-1000-paitings-about-christ-n1555 1. Jesus Wept: Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So, when He heard that he was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was. Then after this He said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to Him, “Rabbi, lately the Jews sought to stone You, and are You going there again?” “Our friend Lazarus sleeps, but I go that I may wake him up.” Then His disciples said, “Lord, if he sleeps he will get well.” However, Jesus spoke of his death, but they thought that He was speaking about taking rest in sleep. Then Jesus said to them plainly, “Lazarus is dead... So when Jesus came, He found that he had already been in the tomb four days. Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met Him, but Mary was sitting in the house. Now Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Then, when Mary came where Jesus was, and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying to Him, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” Therefore, when Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her weeping, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled. And He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to Him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. (Luke 11) See Next Blog Post for more Images A Tale of Adultery
Writing is, in many ways, a form of therapy. A way of healing a broken past full of regrets and fury and heartache and powerlessness. It is a way of taking that past and reclaiming it, transforming it into a story so that you regain power over what happened, so you are no longer a victim. To place your experience into the wider experience of humanity and to come to an understanding that nothing is ever black and white. That the person who caused you innumerable damage are themselves a damaged person. That through writing, you can give humanity and dignity to that person who behaved less than human, who stripped you of your dignity, who took years away from you. In a previous blog, titled ‘Crazy Cat Lady’, I recount the suffering I experienced during my first marriage. Of a man I met in Greece and who became, what I call my ‘Mail Order Husband.’ He shattered me. Broke me into a thousand fragile pieces so that I am still putting those pieces back together. He ruined me financially, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. And appeared to have no remorse. Just as Daughter of Odysseus became my ode to Greece and all she did to me, so my new story has become my ode to my first, and disastrous, marriage. A marriage characterised by lies and deceit and, of course, adultery. Adultery. It plays a large role in my new story. It propels the plot and shapes our understanding of the characters. Of a Wife and a Husband; two complex beings with diametrically opposed pasts who are thrust together by fate, by the hand of God, into this union called marriage. And it is tempting, to demonise the husband—the cheater—the antagonist. It is tempting to praise and support the wife—the protagonist of the story. Or is she? A story, normally, has a protagonist and an antagonist. It has a beginning, a problem arises which reaches a climax, and there is a resolution. A happy ever after, as it were. That was my initial goal. For the wife to be the victim, the heroine, the target of a gross injustice. The husband to be a sexual degenerate who lies and steals and deceives and cheats, cheats and cheats some more. But it is not so simple. Humans are not so simple, we are not so one-dimensional. The story has now taken on new shape, a new form. We hear both sides of the story: the Wife’s Point of View and the Husband’s Point of View. We learn that the Wife is a victim of a deluded understanding of romance, of marriage and of herself. She is naïve, brought up in a sheltered world and easy prey for the predator. We learn that the Husband conceals bitter memories and a traumatic past that the Wife could never even begin to comprehend. A past of brutality and terror and a boot stamped forever on one’s face. Thus, through the Husband I have come to research the little-known history of Communist Albania, of the horrific suffering of the Albanians under what had become the first ‘Atheist State.’ I am learning of dehumanising poverty, of a people living in fear, a people denied the right to live as their ancestors did: to worship, pray, celebrate, and to rejoice in life in all its beauty. The Husband has narcissistic tendencies. Some may say he is a psychopath. But he is a victim, no doubt. And the Wife becomes ensnared in his narcissistic world; a world whose origins lies in a political ideology she knows little about. She, who grew up in a free Australia with its ‘she’ll be right’ attitude, with its apathy towards politics, with its obsession with alcohol and football. My story doesn’t have a beginning, a middle and an end. It jumps between time periods and, from what I can see so far, doesn’t have a simple and neat ending. Because life isn’t simple, it is never neat and clean. The Wife, the Husband. Who do you support? To whom lies your loyalty? Who is the antagonist, who is the protagonist? Both? Or neither? |
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December 2022
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