Everlasting Words

Luke 21:33   "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away."

This spring I had the chance to wander the halls of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston for the first time in many years.  The floor plan eventually leads the visitor to a smallish room of religious art from the Middle Ages, a room I recall first entering almost two decades ago.  Among the breathtaking works inside is one truly astounding piece -- a painted wooden sculpture of the crucified Christ dating to the 11th century.  This carving, originally from some long-lost church in present-day Austria, hangs off the wall toward the viewer, making an instant connection.  Painfully three-dimensional, any photo is but a sad copy of the original.  One has to stand there, looking up at this figure of pathos, in order to truly appreciate what the artist has offered. 

Indeed, looking into the frozen face of this ancient carving, it is easy to imagine the sincerity and

loving care of the artisan who created it nearly a millennium ago.  The sculpture is life-sized, with some faded color left, but realism was not the goal of this anonymous craftsman.  Instead, he wished to convey the spirit behind the story, the cruelty as well as the compassion behind the crucifixion.  Without a doubt, he succeeded well.

I am reading a book on the history of silence in Christianity, and it reminds me of this carving.  The carving itself, taken merely as an object, is dumb and unable to speak to us.  It would seem to entrance only the sense of sight, and yet, as I think of it more, I realize it is not so silent after all. 

The endurance of this work of art is what strikes me most.  A thousand year old piece of wood -- such an object does tend to speak to our imaginations and to our souls.  Even if the carving itself does not make sounds, it certainly speaks, and through it we hear many voices.  We hear the voice of the craftsman, pouring his own faith into his work.  We hear the voice of worshippers, long-since vanished, who found comfort in the sight of this piece.  We hear the voice of the Gospel writers, preserving the tale of the Messiah's brutal death for generations to remember. And we hear the voice of Jesus reminding us that words are more than sounds, they are ideas, and in fact, they can represent life itself.  "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away."

Our own words are far more than the sounds which come out of our mouths.  Our words are an accumulation of our actions, our inactions, our love, and our hate.  Our words extend beyond us, and

indeed, outlive us, for better or for worse.  The words of God are eternal, and we need to seek them out, cherish them, and repeat them.  We will find them, as Elijah did, in still, small voices.  We will find them in sacred books, in saintly people, and in our lifelong bonds with others. And we will find them, on occasion, in wooden faces, carved in faith, by those who have reached heaven before us.