I like this picture. It reminds us that in the midst of life, we are in death. It reminds us that we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, and what we know of those witnesses are their bones. Their bones, and our memories. Hamlet in the graveyard would say that's all that's left:
There's another: why may not that be the skull of aBut the fact that we are here to remember it proves him wrong. One cannot blame Hamlet; he is a young man just facing the prospect of mortality, struggling with whether or not to give death (donner le mort, "the gift of death") to Claudius, whether to accept death himself. That we are dust and bones cannot be denied; that that is all we are, can.
lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,
his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he
suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the
sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of
his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be
in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,
his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and
the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine
pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him
no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than
the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The
very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in
this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?
...
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell
me one thing.
HORATIO
What's that, my lord?
HAMLET
Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'
the earth?
HORATIO
E'en so.
HAMLET
And smelt so? pah!
[Puts down the skull]
HORATIO
E'en so, my lord.
HAMLET
To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may
not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,
till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
HORATIO
'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
HAMLET
No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as
thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried,
Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of
earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he
was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!
This picture reminds us that it is through this material world that we know what we know, and it is through this material world that we know who we know. The absolute dichotomy of dualism is false, especially when it leads to what Dom Crossan labels "sarcophobia." This image reminds us of that, too. The bones that once saw and spoke and mocked and grinned, also bore witness to the incarnation represented by the Madonna and Child that sit before them. And they still bear witness to it. They bear witness to it's reality in time as well as in space as well as in flesh and blood. Reality, which is not to be confused with existence. The bones bear witness to existence, but where is that? Present only in memory, present only as a memory. And if there is no memory, was there no existence? Was their existence insignificant, unimportant, pointless? Did they suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune to no purposeful end except to avoid what might come after? Did conscience indeed make cowards of them all?
Or did they bear witness to what they bear witness to now? Being dead, is their communication "tongued with fire beyond the language of the living"? And how do we know they are dead, or were ever alive, except as they were, and are, still a part of this world?
PEACE
O Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy upon us.
Thou that sittest at the right hand of the Father, have mercy upon us.
Arise, O Christ, and help us,
And deliver us for thy Name's sake.
AMEN.
O Christ, when thou didst open thine eyes on this fair earth, the angels greeted thee as the Prince of Peace and besought us to be of good will one toward another; but thy triumph is delayed and we are weary of war.
SAVE US AND HELP US, O LORD AND MASTER.
O Christ, the very earth groans with pain as the feet of armed men march across her mangled form.
SAVE US AND HELP US, O LORD AND MASTER.
O Christ, may the Church, whom thou didst love into life, not fail thee in her witness for the things for which thou didst live and die.
TEACH US TO DO THY HOLY WILL, O LORD AND MASTER.
O Christ, the people who are called by thy Name are separated from each other in thought and life; still our tumults, take away our vain imaginings, and grant to thy people at this time the courage to pro-claim the gospel of forgiveness, and faithfully to maintain the ministry of reconciliation.
TEACH US TO DO THY HOLY WILL, O LORD AND MASTER.
O Christ, come to us in our sore need and save us; 0 God, plead thine own cause and give us help, for vain is the help of man.
SAVE US AND HELP US, O LORD AND MASTER.
O Christ of God, by thy birth in the stable, save us and help us;
By thy toil at the carpenter's bench, save us and help us;
By thy sinless life, save us and help us;
By thy cross and passion, save us and help us.
SAVE US AND HELP US, O LORD AND MASTER.
Then all shall join in the Lord's Prayer.
Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.
--The E&R Hymnal
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