Genesis 29.15-28: Sisters in Purgatory

How many novels and stories begin something like this: There was a man who had two sons. The reading from Hebrew scripture for Proper  12 (17)A/Pentecost 8A offers a variation: There was a man who had two daughters. Rachel and Leah. Or, in birth order (which would become important in the story): Leah and Rachel. Two sisters. Add in one visiting cousin Jacob and one fairly manipulative father (remember whose brother he is...this seems to be a family trait), and those are the makings of a fine story. (Genesis 29:15-28)

The Biblical story is about contrast and difference - in personality, in looks, in fertility, in affection. Medieval poet Dante continued the tradition of contrasting the two sisters when he put them in Purgatory. The illustration here is a watercolor by English Pre-Raphaelite artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti. In the background (at left) is the poet, and in front are the two sisters. Which would you identify as Leah and which as Rachel?

Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Dante's Vision of Rachel and Leah. Watercolor. 1855. London: Tate Gallery. http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/rossetti-dantes-vision-of-rachel-and-leah-n05228

The artist gives us the general scene and action described by the poet. One sister is engaged in gathering flowers and the other gazes at her own reflection. Which sister is engaged in which task? The poet writes:

...A lady young and beautiful, I dream'd,

Was passing o'er a lea; and, as she came,

Methought I saw her ever and anon

Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang:

"Know ye, whoever of my name would ask,

That I am Leah: for my brow to weave

A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply.

To please me at the crystal mirror, here

I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she

Before her glass abides the livelong day,

Her radiant eyes beholding, charm'd no less,

Than I with this delightful task. Her joy

In contemplation, as in labour mine."

(Purgatorio, Canto 27, lines 96-108)

Rachel, shown here in purple, is a symbol of the contemplative life as she gazes at her reflection. For the artist, purple is associated with inaction, lethargy, even death. Leah, in green - the color of life - collects roses and honeysuckle and has woven flowers into her hair. She symbolizes the active life.

Active and contemplative. These polarities are seen again in the story of sisters Mary and Martha. Mary's attention to things of the spirit as she sits at Jesus' feet is identified as activity that is better - or at least more appropriate in this moment - than Martha's hustle and bustle of hospitality.

Is there a judgement being made here? Does either artist or poet declare one way of living better? How would you value the two options? Which sister would be the "favorite" in today's world?

For a take on the Gospel reading for this Sunday, click here.

Matthew 2.13-23: Rachel Continues to Weep

The story of the massacre of the innocents (Matthew 2:13-23...Christmas 1A) is a believable story. It is believable because what human beings are capable of doing (and are willing to do) to one another continues to mystify us as well as make us sad. Matthew's gospel quotes Jeremiah, which remembers Rachel, wife of Jacob (later called Israel), weeping for her children.

How many times is that idea re-enacted in the world? German artist Kathe Kollwitz not only saw her countrywomen offering their laments, she herself lamented. Kollwitz, who was the first female professor at the Prussian Academy, was forced to resign her faculty position when the Nazis rose to power. She was also forbidden to exhibit her art. The artist's son was killed in World War I, and a grandson was killed in World War II. She understood the heartache of both individual and collective Rachels.

Kollwitz created a print that captures the gutwrenching grief of every woman who weeps for their/her children. The print (below) is titled "Mother with Dead Child." Kollwitz created the work in 1903, long before the advent of WWI, so it is not specifically autobiographical nor is it only a truth in war. Whatever has happened, and it really doesn't matter what that is, the mother's desperate grief and continued focus on her child is clearly communicated in the composition. The mother's arms encircle her child, drawing the viewer to the place where the two faces meet. There is no pleasant landscape or other background distractions. We are forced to acknowledge this mother's loss.

 Kathe Kollwitz. Frau mit Totem Kind (Woman with dead child) 1903, 7th state, soft-ground etching and engraving with green and gold wash. 

http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_object_details/collection_image_gallery.aspx?assetId=291822001&objectId=684802&partId=1

It would be nice if each time this story cycles through the lectionary, it is the case that fewer people know the story or can identify with its feelings. Unfortunately we see more and more women (and men!) mourning for their children. We see raw emotion as mothers call for justice for their children. This is not the overly sentimental mother and child that we often see in the Christmas season. This is real. And all too believable.

For additional thoughts on Matthew 2:13-23, click here.