A Catholic church in my neighborhood
used to have a big statue of the Virgin Mary on a pedestal at the
entrance to its main driveway, with a smaller statue of the church's
patron saint kneeling in prayer in front of it. For the last few
years the pedestal has been empty, I don't know why. Recently the
little statue pictured above (it's no more than two feet high)
appeared there.
It's obviously Moses -- note the
tablets. But I've never seen a statue of an Old Testament figure in front
of a Catholic church before; and it seems kind of wrong to have the
saint praying to him. I guess it's a mystery, as the nuns in the
movies say.
And anyway, to me that statue looks
more like a fantasy-game wizard . . .
. . . than one of the Hebrew prophets.
10 comments:
Have I ever written about Michealangelo's Moses that is in the San Pietro in Vincoli church in Rome? I must have. It's a great sculpture and I had an interesting experience there while viewing it.
Did you know you have to keep feeding 100 lira coins into the coinbox that controls the light that illuminates the sculpture? I didn't, but I do now. Electricity ain't free you know!
Most Catholic churches don't even have statues any more.
My home parish at Sacred Hearts had one of the biggest collections of statues in NYC. So I was used to statues of St Michael killing the snake or St Lucy with her eyeballs on the plate. But the newer churches don't even have Christ on the Cross.
I remember a couple of years ago we had to go to this church in Jersey to be the godparents of our niece. I walk in to this church that had no statues. No Jesus on the cross. Just circles and squares and abstract representations of something. I go to the wife "This is a Protestant church." She does what she always does and tells me to shut up. So I sit through the Mass with the tambourines and all the resulting bullshit without any of the shame and guilt that is traditional in the Catholic church.
Then we get the main event. This guy in vestments comes over and starts to talk to us. He is babbling on and then he says "As I was telling my wife." I blurt out "I told you this was a Protestant Church. I knew it when they didn't have St Lucy with her eyeballs on a plate! When are they bringing out the snakes."
Turns out he was a deacon but still it was fucked up. Where was the whiskey soaked Irish Priest or the guinea who fixed the raffle so he could win the Cadillac?
Now the Deacon is probably gay or a transsexual or transitioning into a hybrid or some shit. Or Antifa is going to come into the churches to pull down the statues because Mother Cabrini was a racist or some such bullshit.
So I am not surprised that they put up a Moses. They needed to be more inclusive. Maybe they can add a statue of Mohamed next. I bet the government will mandate it.
It's sick out there and getting sicker.
And Moses spaketh to the Lord "Lord why doeth my tummy rumble so when I eat milk and mutton?"
And the Lord sayeth unto Moses "Taketh these two tablets and calleth me in the morning".
Although it isn't well known, Old Testament figures are also deemed saints, including Moses, King David, the prophets, Job, and even Adam and Eve.
I didn't know that, Fr Fox. Thank you.
My favorite line in the Moses story, is the "What is it you have in your hand?" question the One who identifies as I AM WHO I AM asks Moses in response to the questions Moses was sending other direction (back toward the voice he'd heard calling his name and speaking from the flames of fire in a bush that wouldn't burn) regarding his lack of suitability for the assignment he was being given.
What he had in his hand was a staff representing 40 years of experience herding sheep in a desert. Not much on the resume, but it was something after all. As it turned out, that staff and the dynamic Power of More behind it was enough to help him do the real trick of leading a group of slaves out of captivity to the Promised Land. According to the rest of the story, forty-two miracles were performed by Moses following that encounter, with sixteen more performed by G-D in Moses' presence.
When I spoke at my mom's funeral two years ago, I used this story to talk about and honor what she held in her capable hands and the power that resides in what we hold and use for the good that blesses in the present moment and continues on past death. I also talked about the leprous hand that's also part of that story, and the awareness that we live in a two-handed reality.
The What do you have in your hand? question is one I sometimes ask those who come looking for direction to take into consideration. And the answers that come are often as seemingly ordinary and commonplace, yet also as surprising and affirming for them as they are in the Moses story, and were for me when I heard it with fresh ears during a time when I was seeking direction and was invited to take that personal question to Moses to heart.
Was that the same staff he used in the desert to strike the rock to receive water the first time, and then used again the next time water was in short supply, after he'd been told to speak to the rock rather than give it a whack like he'd done before to realize success?
After reading TY's commet regarding the sickness out there, I wondered what the leadership and body of the Catholic Church is being currently being called to do after years of leading and being sheep, going one way and another, following set patterns without also using the Open Eyes and Listening Ears approach recommended by Jesus the Christ, the One whose body and life they take into themselves?
Fr. Fox's homily, read yesterday on his blog prior to this post, provides one answer.
http://frmartinfox.blogspot.com/ Also at the link in the side bar.
Personally I would like a statue of Dathan in the form of Edward G Robinson so we can see him with his sandals and his black sox.
It would be inscribed with his famous quote " Waddaya think of your Moses now eh!"
Dathan--Great Grandson of Reuben, Jacob's first born with his second choice wife Leah. Like loaded dice, some things don't change.
The Phenomenon of the Third Generation
Historians and sociologists have observed an interesting trend that occurs with groups of people, or in communities, or even in families. It is called the phenomenon of the third generation. Simply put, they have observed that there commonly occurs deterioration within a community that tends to climax with the third generation.
The process begins with a period of dynamic activity, usually stimulated by a strong leader or by some significant event in the life of the community. This is the first generation. It is characterized by great growth, materially, intellectually, socially, and even spiritually. There are new ideas around, there is a dynamic to living, an excitement because new things are happening. There is expansion and growth on all levels of human endeavor. The first generation is marked by growth.
Then time passes and the second generation takes over. They have not directly experienced the dynamic events of the first generation. They have inherited good times and prosperity. There is no longer the drive to accomplish, to create new ideas, to grow. The second generation is usually content to preserve and consolidate the gains of the first generation. They know the triumphs of the past and sometimes wish or dream for them. Yet, because they are content with what they have inherited, there is little motivation to put forth the genuine effort to sustain the dynamic of the past.
So the second generation is content with listening to the stories of the old days, wishing for them, but is too involved with the preservation of the success of the present to continue the growth of the first generation. They work hard to preserve the status quo, fearing that any movement will risk losing what they have received. The second generation is marked by entrenchment.
Time passes again and the mantle falls on the third generation. They have only heard about the dynamics and vitality of the first generation second hand. They have not seen that kind of vitality; they have only seen the process of preservation and entrenchment. They have heard the stories of the past but they are far away and unreal. They find no compelling reason to be driven by the vision that drove the grandparents. They are freed from the need to fight for recognition and security, and are even freed from the worries of preserving what was originally hard won. They are idle, with no vision that drives them, no passion that inflames them, and no purpose that gives them meaning.
As a result, members of the third generation usually begin to question their identity, their belonging. "Why even be a part of this group, of this community, of this family, if I serve no purpose and see no future?" Here is the tragedy of the third generation! The third generation is often a people lacking a strong sense of identity and belonging and so are uncommitted to the group; a people without a driving passion because they are fired by no vision; a people not sure of who they are, what they believe, or what they should do. The third generation is marked by decline.
In my family that was shortened to "Shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations".
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