You have to wish that all our imperfect human vision were as nearly sublime as this.
The market for religion’s material culture is a strange place indeed. It’s full of things which make you ask: Why is this for sale? Who buys it? There are things, for instance, packaged as manifestations of religious culture which — aside from the fish stamped on them — bear such a perfect resemblance to the rest of the material culture which doesn’t reflect a belief in much at all, except maybe that we shouldn’t be judgmental, that you wonder why anyone on either end of the business transaction even bothers.
And then there are things like these stained-glass windows, which make you want to weep. Why are they for sale? What happened to the 1907 church which was their original home? What else was offered in their stead to furnish the religious imaginations of that church’s children — assuming there are any — as they sit swinging their legs through the sermon?
And who will buy them now, and where will they go?
These three women at the empty tomb, week after week, can do the work of five thousand Christian-themed Barbie knock-offs. Or so I believe and hope.
[Rating: 98/100]
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Lift My Chin, Lord
Lift my chin, Lord,Say to me,“You are not whoYou feared to be,Not Hecate, quite,With howling sound,Torch held…
Letters
Two delightful essays in the March issue, by Nikolas Prassas (“Large Language Poetry,” March 2025) and Gary…
Spring Twilight After Penance
Let’s say you’ve just comeFrom confession. Late sunPours through the budding treesThat mark the brown creek washing Itself…
