That he still bore scars is what I’ve always thought so beautiful. It’s what’s intrigued me more than almost anything else all these years about the story so many celebrate at Easter all over the world, believers, half-believers, unbelievers too. The story of resurrection, the idea of it, the hope of it.
“[T]he cathedral provokes a contemptuous world.”[1] That’s a line from a little poem by Rilke; it’s something Rodin had said. Rilke, the poet, for a time worked for Rodin, the sculptor, until they had a falling out as artists often do.