How can a man be born again when he is old?

I was reading the story of Jesus and Nicodemus in John 3 recently, and was reminded of this sculpture, which we saw in a museum in Florence a couple of years ago. This Pietá was sculpted by Michelangelo in the latter years of his life. The figure standing above and behind Christ is Nicodemus. Here is the text from the plaque beside the statue:

"The deep religious conversion which Michelangelo experienced in the last decades of his life is evident in his writings and the works of art he made after 1540. Among these, the Pietá in Florence is particularly important since--in this work meant for his own tomb--Michelangelo portrayed himself in the figure of Nicodemus, one of the two men who removed Christ from the cross.

"An old tradition maintained that Nicodemus was a sculptor, and identification with this figure thus had a "professional" meaning for Michelangelo. But the main reason for which he assumed this role is given in the words that Nicodemus addressed to Jesus, in the private conversation to be found in the fourth Gospel on the subject of spiritual rebirth: "How can a man be born again when he is old?" (John 3:4) In this sculpture, the body of Christ--powerful and youthful even in death--seems to "be born" from the aged body of Michelangelo, as if the great artist were already undergoing an inner rebirth whose sure sign is the human compassion written on his features."

That kind of artistic vulnerability and integrity is inspiring--and a little scary, too!

A book, a quote, a movie

The Book:

As We Forgive was written by Catherine Larson, the woman I worked under while interning at BreakPoint (a branch of Prison Fellowship Ministries). I heard about the book while I was there, and even got to hear from a Rwandan man who came to visit and shared about their reconciliation ministry. But it wasn't until I started babysitting for Catherine just recently that I picked up a copy of the book at her house. I was curious to see what it was all about, so I started reading.

It's hard to capture the essence of this book in my own words. It tells the agonized history of the Rwandan genocide in 1994. And it talks about how people pick up the pieces of their lives when it seems there's nothing left to live fore. But most of all it's about overcoming unimaginable pain and unfathomable guilt, and reaching reconciliation. It made me think a bit more critically about the American system of retributive justice, and marvel anew at the profound healing Christ can bring to hearts open to Him. The long and the short: you should read it.


The Quote:

"I sense my connection with you all. It's as if, in solitude, the soul develops organs of which we're hardly aware in everyday life. So I haven't for an instant felt lonely and forlorn. You yourself, my parents, all of you including my friends and students on active service--are my constant companions. Your prayers and kind thoughts, passages from the Bible, long forgotten conversations, pieces of music, books--all are invested with life and reality as never before. I live in a great unseen realm of whose real existence I'm in no doubt."
~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer [Letter to Maria, December 1944]


The Movie:

Conspiracy Theory: Nothing really profound to say here, this is just a long-time favorite. Even though I'm pretty sure I'd be even more freaked out by Mel Gibson's character if I met
him in real life, you can't help loving his wacky imagination,
his booby-trapped apartment, and his devotion to Julia Roberts.
And that's all I'm going to say, except, you should watch it! I just
watched it again the other day, and it inspired me to go back and re-watch
some other Julia Roberts classics like Pelican Brief and

Erin Brockovich.

For reflection

Glück und Unglück--Success and Failure
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, trans. Edwin Robertson

Success and failure
suddenly strike and overpower us,
both the same at first,
like the touch of burning heat and freezing cold,
indistinguishable.
Like meteors flung from distant heavens,
blazing and threatening,
over our heads.
Those visited stand bemused
amidst the ruins
of their dull, daily lives.

Proud and exalted,
destroying, subduing,
success and failure, [National Cathedral]
invited or uninvited,
hold festival with these shattered people.
Dressed and decorated,
the visited
prepare for the sacrificial feast.

Success is full of foreboding,
failure has its sweetness.
Without distinction they appear to come,
the one or the other,
from the unknown.
Both are proud and terrible.
People come from far and wide,
walk by and look,
pausing to stare,
half envious, half afraid,
at the outrage,
where the supernatural,
blessing and cursing at the same time,
entangling and disentangling,
sets forth the drama of human life.
What is success and what is failure?

Time alone distinguishes.
When the incomprehensible, exciting,
sudden event
lapses into wearisome waiting,
when the creeping hours of the day
first reveal the true outlines of failure,
then most give up,
weary of the monotony
of oft-repeated failure,
disappointed and bored with themselves.

That is the hour of steadfast love,
the hour of the mother and the beloved,
the hour of the friend and the brother.
Steadfast love transforms all failure,
and gently cradles it
in the soft
radiance of heavenly light.