Skip to main content

New England Reflections 2014 (Cont.): The Platypus Travels Part LI

When I began The Platypus Travels thread, I never thought that I would reach fifty-one posts.  The Platypus of Truth was originally conceived as a sort of daily journal share-able thoughts.  Around 2007-2008, it evolved into a literary blog with The Platypus Reads taking the lion's share of each year's posts.  The share-able thoughts and the book reviews have remained, but I'm pleased to see that The Platypus of Truth as grown over the past years to include poems, academic reflections, classic gaming reviews, and now travel blogging.  If one thread doesn't appeal to you, hopefully another will. From a small seed, this blog has grown into a vast tree and every branch and leaf is dear to me.

Today's post, then, is a short follow-up to this discussion of Victorian stained glass.  Specifically, I want to show you the companion piece on the west side of the church.  This window is in a more traditional style and features the Agnus Dei, or "Lamb of God".  The window is specifically dedicated in memory of the children that past away; whether in a specific epidemic in 1906 or over the course of several years is unclear from the dedication.  The Agnus Dei is a symbol of the Resurrection and thus fitting for a memorial window.  It may also be a reference to Blake's Little Lamb which had been converted into a popular children's hymn.  The daisies between the Lamb's feet are symbols of simplicity and are a typical emblem on memorials for dead children.  The Sunflowers in the field behind the Lamb are typically associated with the Roman Catholic faithful, an odd touch in an Episcopal church.  The lilies in the bottom panel are symbols of purity and resurrection.  The IHS can stand for the first three letters of Jesus' name in Greek or for the Latin "In Hoc Signo" (In This Sign [Conquor]).  The later is particularly fitting given that the Agnus Dei is an image of the victorious Christ from Revelation.  The oval that the central portrait sits in is a feature of byzantine icons and depicts a window into heaven.  The cross is a broadfooted cross with the triangular ends representing the Trinity(as do the clusters of three circles around the IHS and the fluer de lis around the Lamb).  The image of the Lamb creates a nimbus around the cross that gives it a Celtic flair.*  Since the sun was decidedly in the east when we visited the church, the window lacks the dazzling luminescence of its companion.  I can only imagine what it looks like in the light of the full afternoon sun.




*For help with interpreting the symbols on this window I am indebted to Douglas Keister's handy guide on funerary symbolism, Stories in Stone: A Field Guide to Cemetery Symbolism and Iconography.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

California's Gods: Strange Platypus(es)

We've noticed lately a strange Californian dialectical twist: there, freeways take the definite article.  In other parts of the country one speaks of I 91 or 45 North.  In California, there's The 5, The 405, The 10.  Each of these freeways has its own quirks, a personality of sorts.  They aren't just stretches of pavement but presences, creatures that necessitate the definite article by their very individuality and uniqueness.  They are the angry gods to be worked, placated, feared, for without them life in California as we know it would cease.  Perhaps that's fitting for a land whose cities are named for saints and angels.  Mary may preside over the new pueblo of our lady of the angels, but the freeways slither like gigantic serpents through the waste places, malevolent spirits not yet trampled under foot.

Seeing Beowulf Through Tolkien: The Platypus Reads Part CXCIX

After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment.  I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother.  Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men.  In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain.  Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage.  The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose.  If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...