The Icons
As I continue to puzzle over the odd hegemony that "transcendence" continues to hold in the minds of so many of our kin, I recall one such example—speaking of icons as if they were but "windows."
The Icons
The icons are not exactly windows,
nor are they portals to another place.
They assist in bringing us face to face
with our dear mothers, our dear fathers, those
who—despite their seeming to have left us—
bide so very near within the full space
bearing us, very cloud in whose embrace
we live and move, attended. Ever. Yes.
I think maybe (maybe?) this poem has helped me understand the problem with transcendence, a word that has been foundational in both my theology and my aesthetic. But it is inherently dualistic, and there are all sorts of problems with that. My, but my thinking is stuck in grooves others have plowed, ages ago, and the trench is deep enough it takes a lot to be able to climb up and peek out. An ironic metaphor, for sure.
I think these words are beautiful and a perfect expression of something I hold very dear. Thank you, Scott.