art and life

I have always loved creating and looking at art. I have really loved being able to view the beautiful artwork and architecture these past couple of weeks. This is especially evident in the churches and cathedrals we have visited. Whether it is the deliberate discrepancies of St. Anne’s Church, or the great domes and magnificent paintings of the Holy Sepulchre, or even ancient patterns of the crumbling mosaics on the floors by the old steps of the temple mount; I could stand forever exploring every detail, thinking about the person who created such beauty, wondering if they had any idea how long their creation would last, or how fascinating it might one day be to others. I also think about the immense numbers of such works that have been destroyed, and will never be found.

There was one painting in particular that I saw yesterday that really stood out in my mind. It was in the church in Bethlehem. When I went down into the place where Jesus was sais to have been born, there was a small picture of Mary being visited by the angel Gabriel. It was smaller than some, and darker, dimly portrayed in shades of gold and blue and red.

But despite the obvious royal stylization of the picture, it was not really the art work that moved me. Although it was beautiful, the picture stands out in my memory because of the subject. I was suddenly struck by the realization that she was just a girl, and possibly a very young girl. While I have no doubt that she must have been a spiritually extraordinary person, she must have been terrified. To have a child, and not an ordinary child, but the very son of God, growing inside your own body; I cannot even imagine what must have been going through her head!

The reason I think this has struck me so severely is the fact that I will be an aunt in just a few months. My sister Heather, who is only two years older than me, and who has been one of my best friends since I was born, is now about 20 weeks pregnant. She is due June 16. She keeps sending ultrasound pictures to me every month, and I am completely in awe of this little person. (I attached the most recent one, so you can be, too. It looks like its sucking its thumb). The idea that there is a life growing inside of her is incredible to me. I already love this little one so much, and we have yet to even meet.

Life is truly the most beautiful creation, made even more so by its fragility. How many lives have simply disappeared, to never be known or thought of again? What can a person leave behind? Some have left great tombs in an attempt to be remembered, but what has it truly accomplished? The only things in life that should matter to us are those that will last, those that are eternal, but they can be hard to find, and even harder to focus on.