Category Archives: Musings

Remembering the Roots of Thanksgiving

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I am grateful for a day in which we, as a people, pause to give thanks. And who do we have to thank for this holiday? Your answer is likely “The Pilgrims.” You would not be wrong, but then not completely correct, either. Certainly, Thanksgiving and the religious response of giving thanks to God is as old as time. When one considers enduring cultures, one always finds men and women working out their relationship to God. There is almost always a fourfold purpose to our acts of worship: adoration, petition, atonement, thanksgiving. Such worship is part and parcel of life. And yet, there is still a very human need to specially celebrate and offer thanksgiving on key occasions and anniversaries. Since medieval times, we have very detailed records of celebrations marking the end of an epidemic, liberation from sure and certain doom, the signing of a peace treaty, and more. Continue reading →

Woe to the soul

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From the Office of Readings for the Day – a homily attributed to Saint Macarius, bishop (Hom. 28: PG 34, 710-711). A note: while we often think of the word “woe” as pertaining to accusation and condemnation, the biblical meaning is most often as a lament, a sadness or mourning over an instance or circumstance.

Woe to the soul that does not have Christ dwelling in it

And Jesus wept…

When God was displeased with the Jews, he delivered Jerusalem to the enemy, and they were conquered by those who hated them; there were no more sacrifices or feasts. Likewise angered at a soul who had broken his commands, God handed it over to its enemies, who corrupted and totally dishonored it. When a house has no master living in it, it becomes dark, vile and contemptible, choked with filth and disgusting refuse. So too is a soul which has lost its master, who once rejoiced there with his angels. This soul is darkened with sin, its desires are degraded, and it knows nothing but shame.

Woe to the path that is not walked on, or along which the voices of men are not heard, for then it becomes the haunt of wild animals. Woe to the soul if the Lord does not walk within it to banish with his voice the spiritual beasts of sin. Woe to the house where no master dwells, to the field where no farmer works, to the pilotless ship, storm-tossed and sinking. Woe to the soul without Christ as its true pilot; drifting in the darkness, buffeted by the waves of passion, storm-tossed at the mercy of evil spirits, its end is destruction. Woe to the soul that does not have Christ to cultivate it with care to produce the good fruit of the Holy Spirit. Left to itself, it is choked with thorns and thistles; instead of fruit it produces only what is fit for burning. Woe to the soul that does not have Christ dwelling in it; deserted and foul with the filth of the passions, it becomes a haven for all the vices.

When a farmer prepares to till the soil he must put on clothing and use tools that are suitable. So Christ, our heavenly king, came to till the soil of mankind devastated by sin. He assumed a body and, using the cross as his ploughshare, cultivated the barren soul of man. He removed the thorns and thistles which are the evil spirits and pulled up the weeds of sin. Into the fire he cast the straw of wickedness. And when he had ploughed the soul with the wood of the cross, he planted in it a most lovely garden of the Spirit, that could produce for its Lord and God the sweetest and most pleasant fruit of every kind.

Image credit: Flevit super illam (He wept over it) | Enrique Simonet (1892) | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Creative Commons

Passing Things; Permanent Things

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Today’s readings place before us two very powerful images of history. In the first reading from the Book of Daniel, is the scene in the Book of Daniel when he is asked to interpret a dream of King Nebichadnezzar. In the dream there is a statue of gold, silver, bronze, iron, and clay; understood as giant empires rising and falling. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus foretells the destruction of the Temple, a building so magnificent that people were “admiring how it was adorned with costly stones” (Lk 21:5). In both readings, we are reminded of the fragility of earthly things, passing things – even the things we think are permanent

All earthly kingdoms pass away. Daniel interprets Nebuchadnezzar’s dream: a statue of dazzling appearance, representing the great powers of the world. But Daniel also says: “A stone was hewn from a mountain without a hand being put to it… and it struck the statue… and crushed them” (Dan 2:34–35). And then Daniel gives the meaning: “The God of heaven will set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed… it shall stand forever” (Dan 2:44).

Empires rise; they fall. New powers come; they fade. What looks permanent at the time ends up being temporary. We need that reminder today: nothing in this world—no nation, no power, no economy, no institution—is eternal. Only the kingdom of God lasts.

We are not to be dazzled by earthly splendor. In the Gospel, some people marvel at the beauty of the Temple. It was truly magnificent—one of the wonders of the ancient world. But Jesus says: “The days will come when there will not be left a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down” (Lk 21:6). Even the Temple, the holiest place in Israel, would fall. Jesus is not trying to frighten us. He is trying to reorient us.  He is reminding us that beauty and power are not the same as holiness and eternity. God invites us to place our trust not in the structures or successes of this world, but in Him alone.

Because God’s kingdom is already breaking into our world. When the stone in Daniel’s vision strikes the statue, Daniel says: “The stone… became a great mountain and filled the whole earth” (Dan 2:35). The Fathers of the Church saw this stone as a symbol of Christ. The Cornerstone rejected by the builders, yet chosen by God. And so Christ’s kingdom has already begun in His death and resurrection.  And even as nations rise and fall, even as there are “wars and insurrections… earthquakes, famines, and plagues” (Lk 21:9,11), the kingdom of God continues to grow quietly, steadily, like a mountain that fills the earth. Not through force. Not through power. But through the holiness of God’s people, through the sacraments, through acts of mercy, forgiveness, and love.

What does this mean for us today? It means that the Christian life is not about predicting the end, nor about reading the “signs” with fear. Jesus specifically says: “Do not be terrified” (Lk 21:9). We don’t follow Christ to secure ourselves against worldly catastrophes.  We follow Him because He alone is the kingdom that does not pass away.

So the question for us today is simple: Where is my heart anchored? In the things that pass away—or in the One who stands forever? When our hearts are anchored in Christ, even the storms of history cannot shake us. Even when earthly certainties collapse, our hope remains firm.

The great empires of Daniel’s vision are long gone. The stones of the Temple Jesus described have long since fallen. But the kingdom of Christ endures. And we are invited to belong to that kingdom—now, today, in this Eucharist.

May the Lord give us the wisdom to cling to what is eternal, to seek first the kingdom that “shall never be destroyed” (Dan 2:44), and to live unafraid, trusting in the One who reigns forever.

The One who is King of the Universe.

Image credit: Flevit super illam (He wept over it) | Enrique Simonet (1892) | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Creative Commons | PD-US

Spiritual Integrity Under Pressure

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The first reading for today is from the First Book of Maccabees. It is an account of the time of persecution of the people of Jerusalem during the time they were ruled by Antiochus IV of the Seleucid Kingdom, a now distant descendant of the empire built by Alexander the Great. Tired of the revolts and troubles, Antiochus decided to first try to lure them into a different culture by enticing the young and old with the mystery of philosophy, worldly allures, access to the gymnasium where the elite met and deals were made, and a world of customs and value hitherto unknown. Antiochus wanted them to center their lives on something other than the Temple and the Covenant with God.

It worked for a while. People “abandoned the holy covenant; they allied themselves with the Gentiles and sold themselves to wrongdoing…[they began offering sacrifices] to idols and profaned the sabbath.” Having made inroads, Antiochus then ordered that all the people of Jerusalem should be unified in custom, language, and worship. At this point Antiochus introduced pagan worship into the very heart of the Temple, the Holy of Holies – and then began to systematically destroy the signs and symbols of the Jewish faith. “Terrible affliction was upon Israel.”

History is filled with different kinds of rulers, kings, dictators, and monarchs whose rule covers the gamut of dominion from persuasion to persecution. With one hand they offer the people something desired, be it moral or mundane. With the other hand, they offer the questionable. Rarely do they offer blatantly wrong. It is more likely that the heat is slowly turned up so that the people never sense the change in temperature until it is too late. The waters around them are already boiling.

What about “we the people”?  In the age of the Maccabees there were those who joined Antiochus’ agenda. There were those who remained silent. There were others who stood firm in their ancient faith of Abraham and they suffered mightily for their stand.  Maccabees reveal the range of circumstances that surround us in the realm of political decrees, cultural temptations, moral compromises, or the quiet drift away from what we once held to be true. It is a story of all ages: spiritual integrity under pressure. 

Our times are no different. Some of us join an other-than-Christ-centered agenda. Some remain silent. Others stand firm and speak from their faith. What is the issue, the agenda, the topic that you sense is wrong or headed in the wrong direction? Something in that quiet drift away from what you held to be true. Are you silent? Waiting for more information?

What issue do you find yourself apart from the Church and you think, “those bishops should stay out of politics?” Might this be a sign that you have joined an agenda different from the Church?

The Maccabees remind us: fidelity to God is not always easy.  But what is always easy is prayer.  As the gospel reminds us, the Lord is always asking: “What do you want me to do for you?”  Our response should always be “Lord, please let me see.”

Like our ancestors in faith, we live in the realm of political decrees, cultural temptations, moral compromises, and the quiet drift away from what we once held to be true. “Lord, please let me see.” Pray for the Wisdom to discern God’s desire and your call to action. When external forces demand conformity, stand firm in the grace and Wisdom of God.

Image Credit: “Healing the Blind Man” | Václav Mánes | 1832 | National Gallery Prague | PD-US

The Beauty of Wisdom

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The first reading for today is from the Book of Wisdom (13:1-9). It is an amazing passage the speaks to the natural human inclination to be drawn to beauty – and at the same time our inability to look beyond the fullness of beauty to see the Divine Maestro who orchestrates the symphony of order and beauty that surrounds us. Too easily we stop with what we see. We marvel at the created world but fail to lift our eyes to the Creator. We are drawn to the beauty of nature, but sometimes we mistake the reflection for the source of the light. It is a type of foolishness: “From the greatness and the beauty of created things their original author, by analogy, is seen.” Creation is a window through which we can see God – but we need to truly and deeply look.

The author provides a gentle warning:  It’s possible, even with great intelligence, to miss the mark — to admire the art but forget the artist. “If they were so successful in knowledge that they could speculate about the world, how did they not more quickly find its Lord?” In every age, there’s a temptation to worship the creation — whether that’s nature, human achievement, or science — instead of the Creator. None of these are bad in themselves; they are good, beautiful, and true in their own right. But they are not God.

St. Paul makes the same point in Romans 1: “Ever since the creation of the world, God’s invisible attributes of eternal power and divinity have been able to be understood and perceived in what he has made.” Faith, then, is not opposed to reason or science. It is the completion of them. Faith takes us the next step — from what is seen to the One who is unseen; from wonder at creation to worship of the Creator. 

When we pause to see the beauty of creation with faith, we discover not just design, but love — a love that orders all things, sustains all things, and calls each of us into communion with the One who made them.

And here’s the heart of it for us today: the God who fashioned the stars and the seas has come near to us in the person of Jesus Christ. The One who made the heavens walked upon the earth He created. He touched the dust of the ground and blessed it with His own hands. If we see beauty in creation, how much more beauty should we see in the Creator who became one of us? Christ is not only the Maker of all things — He is the Redeemer of all things. In Him, creation finds its meaning and its destiny.

Take in the beauty of the world. Stop to watch a sunset, the autumn colors of the trees, a star filled sky and the faces of those we love. Let it all draw you closer to its Source. For from the greatness and the beauty of created things, their original author is indeed seen.

Image Credit: Parable of the Unjust Steward | A. Mironov | CC BY-SA 4.0 | Wikimedia Commons

The Fullness of Wisdom

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The first reading for today is from the Book of Wisdom (7:22-8:1) and is one of the most beautiful descriptions of divine Wisdom in all of Scripture. You can hear the author’s reverence when he speaks “a breath of the power of God,” “the image of His goodness,” “she reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other.” There is a recognition that Wisdom is not merely cleverness or human intelligence. The author recognizes that Wisdom is the divine life of God shared with His creation. It is the divine presence active in the world, bringing order out of chaos, and goodness out of confusion. Wisdom is, as the text says, “the refulgence of eternal light” — that shining reflection of God’s glory that guides all who seek truth and goodness.

It is also more than poetry. Christians recognize this divine presence in the world as a foreshadowing of Christ, “the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:24). Just as Wisdom is described as the image of God’s goodness, so St. Paul says that Christ is “the image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15). Just as Wisdom “pervades and penetrates all things,” so the Spirit of Christ fills all creation with life and light.

This passage, then, draws our hearts toward the mystery of the Trinity — the Father, whose power is revealed; the Son, who is the radiant image of that power; and the Holy Spirit, who moves with gentle might throughout creation. It means that divine Wisdom — this living breath of God — is not distant or abstract. She is near. She moves within every circumstance where truth and goodness are sought. Whenever we act with patience, discernment, and love, we allow Wisdom to order things well.

Wisdom is that quiet light that helps a parent guide a child with fairness; that calm in the heart that helps a person choose mercy over anger; that inner clarity that helps us say, “This is the right thing to do, even when it costs me.”

The final line says it all: “She reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other, and she orders all things well.”

When we look at our world — so full of confusion, injustice, and disorder — it’s tempting to think chaos has the last word. But this verse is a promise: the Wisdom of God still holds creation together. Even when human foolishness seems to rule the day, God’s Wisdom is quietly at work, bringing His plan to fulfillment.

Today, take a quiet moment apart and pray for Wisdom. Not just to understand more, but to live rightly. To see as God sees. To love what God loves. Pray to let the Spirit of Wisdom order our thoughts, words, and actions so that, through us, God may continue to “order all things well.”

Image Credit: Parable of the Unjust Steward (A.N. Mironov), CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Authority and Humility

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The first reading for today is from the Book of Wisdom (6:1-11), which at first blush you might think does not apply to you: “Hear, O kings, and understand; learn, you magistrates of the earth’s expanse! Hearken, you who are in power over the multitude and lord it over throngs of peoples!” Surely, the passage is for the high, mighty and powerful – not for the regular folks like us. Afterall it is a warning to kings and rulers that their power is not their own; it is given by God and therefore must be exercised according to His justice and mercy. But Scripture never speaks to one class of people alone. The Word of God always echoes in the hearts of those who listen with faith, and this passage holds a lesson for all of us who bear responsibility in any form — however small it may seem.

Parents exercise authority in the home; teachers shape minds; supervisors guide workers; parishioners model faith for one another. Each of us, in one way or another, is entrusted with responsibility over others — even if only in the form of how we speak, how we treat others, and how we witness to Christ in our words and actions.

The passage reminds us that authority, in any measure, is a trust, not a possession. “Authority was given you by the Lord,” the text says. This truth should remind us to be humble. Whatever talents, positions, or opportunities we have, they are meant for service, not self. The real test of greatness is not in how much control we have, but in how we use what we have been given for the good of others.

The Book of Wisdom also says: “The Lord of all shows no partiality… he provides for all alike.” This is both comforting and challenging. God’s justice is perfectly fair. He looks not at the size of our title or the wealth of our name, but at the faithfulness of our heart. That means the mother who patiently cares for her children, the worker who acts honestly when no one is watching, or the neighbor who helps quietly—these are the ones who live the wisdom of God in daily life.

For the “regular folks,” this reading becomes an invitation to live every small duty with great integrity. To remember that we too will be held accountable, not for ruling nations, but for how we loved, how we forgave, how we treated those who depended on us.

In that sense, the Book of Wisdom is not simply a warning—it’s a call to holiness in the ordinary. Because in God’s eyes, every act of justice, patience, or mercy, however small, participates in His kingdom.

May the Lord God, source of all wisdom, teach us to use whatever influence we have with humility and faithfulness. May we govern our own hearts according to his Word, that his justice and mercy may be known through us in our daily lives. Amen.

Image Credit: Parable of the Unjust Steward (A.N. Mironov), CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The Invitation

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In this day and age, we receive all manner of electronic invitations (evites): to meetings, parties, events and more. Upon receiving the invitation, are we excited? Were we just hoping for a day or evening off? Does this seem more obligatory than interesting? Do we have to rearrange schedules? Are hoping something more exciting comes along? We have choices – delete, never open, don’t answer, answer with regrets, or accept. And then come all the consequences of all those choices we make, intended or not. Does all this seem like a phenomenon of the internet age? Not really. It is as old as time and part of the gospel.

Just this weekend, All Saints and All Souls remind us that every human life receives the invitation to join God in the Kingdom. Every life is moving toward one of two destinations: either we sit at the banquet of the Lamb, or we stand outside by our own choice, occupied by other concerns..

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells of a great banquet prepared with care and generosity. The invitations go out, but one by one, the guests make excuses: a new field to inspect, oxen to test, a marriage to attend. All seem reasonable enough — yet in the end, each one chooses something else over the invitation of the King.

The Kingdom of God is not a casual opportunity to be accepted when convenient. It is a summons that demands a decision — now. The tragedy of the invited guests is not that they thought so little of the host, but that they preferred something else, something mundane, something profane. They allowed the good to become the enemy of the best. But we don’t do that, right? 

  • “Yes, I’ll pray more… once things calm down.”
  • “I’ll forgive… after I’ve had time to cool off.”
  • “I’ll follow You more closely… when life settles.”
  • “It’s an open invitation, right?  Let me get back to you.”

And the moment of grace passes. Life swallows you up. The seat prepared for you grows cold. One of the problems with procrastination is that it can make it harder to accept God’s call later, as you become accustomed to not listening. 

The saints we celebrated two days ago were ordinary people who simply said “yes” to God’s invitation — not someday, but today. They made room for the banquet of grace in the midst of work, family, suffering, and daily duty. The souls we prayed for yesterday are those still being purified of hesitation, learning to love God completely.

So today’s Gospel presses the same question upon us: When the Lord invites us — in prayer, in service, in conversion — do we respond, or do we delay?

To make a decision for Christ means to live each day as if the invitation has just arrived — because it has. Every Mass is a foretaste of that eternal banquet; every “Amen” at Communion is our RSVP to the feast of heaven.

The Feast of the Great King is ready today — not tomorrow, not a time when it’s convenient. The Gospel does not say, “Come when you can,” but “Come — everything is ready.” “Now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Cor 6:2)

May we not delay our response. May we say yes now — so that, when the great banquet is finally opened, our places will be waiting, and we will hear the words every saint has longed for: “Come, everything is ready.”

Image credit: St. Francis of Assisi via Canva.com | CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

Time, Tide and Formation

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Since moving to Northern Virginia, I have been afforded the opportunity to connect with many of my classmates from the United States Naval Academy Class of 1974 – as well as an amazing array of graduates from classes before and after my time… these days, well after my time. There are two parishioners currently at USNA in the Class of 2027! Yikes!

There is an expression that “Time, Tide, and Formation wait for no person.” And there an inexorable march of time and markers along the way to help us remember. Not only meeting the new generation of midshipmen and commissioned Naval and Marine Officers, but also the passing of classmates.

Last year at our 50th Reunion we held a memorial service for our classmates who have passed away in the line of duty and in life. It was an interesting prelude to our celebration of All Souls Day this weekend. All Souls is a day when we remember all the faithful departed, known and unknown, whose souls are in the hands and mercy of God. Most often we focus on our family members and a small circle of intimate friends. But All Souls is a day we cast the net of our family and prayers much wider to souls known and unknown to us.

Certainly there is a very strong bond between Academy classmates, but in truth I did not know most of the 900 or so graduates. One’s sphere is generally limited to the Company of men with whom you lived for four years, people in your academic major, and perhaps your sports team. In my case, swimming was a year-round sport making my world even smaller.   Though I did not know (or could not remember) many names on the memorial list, it was still sobering to read the list of classmates who has passed away. One of my roommates was on the list; he passed away while I was living in Kenya. Many of the early deaths were aviators whose career was certainly higher risk than life in submarines. As we aged into our late 40s and into our 50s the list began to acquire more names and the causes of death more connected to our age than our military careers.

Yesterday classmates and friends gathered to celebrate the life of Rich Johnson. He was my roommate sophomore year (“youngster year” in the parlance of USNA) along with Tom Rathbone. Rich served as a Naval Flight Officer (NFO) – think of Goose in the backseat of Maverick’s jet fighter in “Top Gun.” In fact, Rich attended Top Gun as an NFO. I should have asked his wife Sarah if he serenaded her with “Great Balls of Fire.”

As I sat in the church, in the quiet, the words of the Second Eucharistic prayer came to mind. It comes just after we have prayed: “Remember also our brothers and sisters who have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection.” In a way, we recall the good people known to us in this lifetime. But what about the ones we did not know? I am comforted by the words as the Eucharistic Prayer continues: “and all who have died in your mercy: welcome them into the light of your face. Have mercy on us all, we pray.” The souls of all the departed are in the hands and mercy of God. They are in our prayers.

May his soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, though the mercy of God, rest in peace.

The Foundation

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The gospel for today’s Feast of St. Simon and Jude is the simple list of the Apostles as given in the Gospel of Luke. Early Christian writers and later stories link Simon and Jude as missionary partners, evangelizing together in Persia (modern Iran) or Mesopotamia (modern Iraq) where they suffered martyrdom together. For this reason, their feast days were merged very early on.

On this feast day, my attention was drawn to the first reading: “So then you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.” (Eph 2:19-20)  Specifically, I thought about the way St. Paul used the term foundation. In 1 Cor 3:11, St. Paul writes: “for no one can lay a foundation other than the one that is there, namely, Jesus Christ.” And what are we to make of Matthew 16:18 – “And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.”  That sounds pretty foundational.

It caught my attention because of the way different Christian denominations understand and misunderstand the Scriptural use of the same word as well as the broader metaphor of “building” the spiritual life in Christ. Consider 1 Peter 2:5 – “...like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” The “spiritual house” clearly needs a foundation.

In New Testament writings we see the foundation described in Ephesians as  the Apostles (New Covenant witnesses of Christ’s resurrection) and the Prophets (usually understood either as Old Testament prophets or Christian prophets active in the early Church).  In this view the foundation represents the historical and revelatory basis upon which the Church is built. Christ is the keystone or cornerstone, the essential aligning and sustaining element. The Apostles and Prophets are the human instruments through whom the divine revelation and structure of the Church are communicated.

Other scripture points to Christ as the only foundation: “According to the grace of God given to me, like a wise master builder I laid a foundation, and another is building upon it. But each one must be careful how he builds upon it, for no one can lay a foundation other than the one that is there, namely, Jesus Christ.” (1 Cor 3:10-11) Here, Christ himself is the sole and irreplaceable foundation and the subsequent building (the Church’s growth and ministries) is built upon that foundation. Whereas Ephesians emphasizes apostolic tradition and continuity, Corinthians stresses Christ’s primacy.

In the letter to the Hebrews we read: “Therefore, let us leave behind the basic teaching about Christ and advance to maturity, without laying the foundation all over again: repentance from dead works and faith in God, instruction about baptisms and laying on of hands, resurrection of the dead and eternal judgment.” (Heb 6:1-2). Here, the foundation is doctrinal, not personal. It refers to the basic tenets of Christian faith and practice. The metaphor casts the foundation as the core teaching that allows growth toward spiritual maturity.

In the Book of Revelation we read: “The wall of the city had twelve courses of stones as its foundation, on which were inscribed the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.” (Rev 21:14)  This usage takes the eschatological image of the new Jerusalem as permanently built upon the apostolic foundation. Christ is the Lamb, but the Apostles are the named foundational stones — indicating the enduring authority and witness of apostolic teaching in the Church’s eternal form.

What does this all mean? It is what the Catholic Church has always proclaimed: the ultimate foundation of the Church is Christ Himself — the one in whom revelation, salvation, and unity originate. In his human lifetime Jesus was the means of communication, the teaching, eschatological fulfillment and “continuity.” After his death and resurrection, the foundation in the world rests on the teachings and story of Jesus, but now continuity is dependent upon the sure transmission of the faith via the Apostles and those appointed by them. This apostolic foundation refers to the instrumental mediation of the revelation of Jesus. They are the foundation through whom Christ’s word and authority are transmitted. They are the foundation in witness and structure.

The Church is the sure means by which you “...like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” 

Image credit: Flevit super illam (He wept over it) | Enrique Simonet (1892) | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Creative Commons | PD-US