Fifth Monday after Pentecost
Ordinary Time: Color: Green
Lectionary Texts:
1 Samuel 23;15-24:22
Mark 5:1-20
Psalm 130 (UMH 848)
Marianne and I had a wonderful weekend with our daughter April, here for Father's Day. We all ate too much and don't regret it. Eating habits change this week. We worshipped at Duke Chapel, one of April's favorite places, then had a delightful lunch with my brother Gerald and sister-in-law Ginger at the Washington Duke Hotel.
The first day I was ever in Paris was in early August, 1968. It was still at a time when most Parisians took the month of August off and went to the Riviera or to visit relatives in the French countryside. It was relatively peaceful and quiet. We arrived early Friday afternoon and would be leaving Monday morning. I knew I had to see the Louvre and had little time to do it. I dashed in and out of rooms filled with so much of the art I had studied in my two Art History courses in college.
I looked at my watch and it was 4:40. In my best French I asked a lady in the cleaning crew, "A quelle heure ferme-t-elle la musee? She replied, "A cing heures." 5:00. I had only 20 minutes left. I was running faster room to room. I ran into one room--the Mona Lisa, with only a few other people there. I gave her a quick study, then ran on through a couple of more rooms.
I almost ran past one room, but decided to take a look in, in case there was anything there of interest. It was the Venus de Milo, all by herself with me. No one else was in the room. I stood there and gawked. The wonderful Kurt Weill song "Speak Low," from the movie One Touch of Venus came to mind. In the movie a male museum goer, despite the "Do not touch" sign, touches the statue. She comes alive. She is in love with this man who touched her. He's engaged. I don't remember much of the rest of the movie, but I do love the song.
Time was up. I had to leave. As I rounded one corner I was stopped in my tracks by a sight so overwhelming, I have never gotten over it--the Nike of Samothrace (Winged Victory). This an incredible and massive sculpture of the Nike about to take off. Twelve foot body thrust forward, wings held back with feathers blown back. The flowing robes of her stone silks were blown back in perfect drapery. No stone sculpture in all of history has had such a sens of motion. The big surprise is that you stand there fully expecting her to take off, but she remains standing ready, as she has for about 1900 years.
I would get to the Louvre many more times over many more years, but no trip would ever be the same as that dashing first hour in 1968. I would see Venus many more times, but never alone, always in a room crowded with camera toting tourists.
The Louvre is the world's greatest art museum. Great museums like the Prado in Madrid, Spain and the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia have massive collections of their own country's art, but little from anywhere else. Only the Metropolitian in New York can begin to rival the Louvre in having everything.
God of art and artists,
We are thankful for all people who help us to see beauty and all those who help us see truth. Amen.
"Truth is beauty. Beauty is truth.
That's all you mortals know on earth, and all you need to know,"
--last lines from John Keats, "Ode on a Grecian Urn"
Faithfully,
Christian
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