The Entombment of Atala: Death, Dying, and Living Again

     

    -The Entombment of Atala, Anne Loius Girodet-Trioson

“I have passed like a flower. I have dried like the falling grass.” Words carved in the walls of a humble tomb, where two men bury their lost loved one.

Today, I have a particular sympathy for this painting, as the son of a dear family friend lies motionless in a hospital bed, on life support. I feel the depth of emotion the artist expresses. As I see the figures she painted—a priest, there to help Atala’s salvation in the afterlife, not unlike Jackson’s doctors doing all they can to save him, and Atala’s Indian lover holding her for the last time, embracing the last remnants of the love they shared, just as Jackson’s mother is holding fast to what may be the last of him, embracing what she can of the life he may have for little longer.

Atala is draped in white, suggesting something angelic and pure— even Christ-like about her; I see that linen as the white bed sheet currently covering my friend’s son. Atala’s lover is dressed only in a red loin cloth, suggesting the atoning blood of the Savior; I see it as the blood lovingly spilled from Jackson’s mother on the day of his birth some 16 years ago.

And as their family solicits prayers, and family and friends gather in spirit to fast, I look at the crosses in the picture, and I beg the Lord to give them peace—true peace— peace that reaches into the depths of your soul to embrace you with its warmth—peace that I know only comes from Christ. And, though sadness envelops me heart for his family right now, I know that, should Jackson die today, all will still be well because of Christ’s infinite and eternal sacrifice for us. Christ died and was resurrected the third day, that we may conquer death as He did—that we may rise from death full of life, and that we might gain eternal life. I see that life in the flowers growing just outside Atala’s tomb. It looks as if, in time, these flowers will overtake the tomb, encompassing it in the life they possess.

In this painting, I see the fragility of life. No one thinks they will die young, but, as Atala’s vibrant beauty suggests, all too often there are those that do. May we remember how quickly our time on this earth comes to a close. And may we cherish what little time we do have.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_YntXGKOzc&feature=fvwrel

“What can you see on the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea, a pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home…”

-Into the West, Annie Lennox




For updates on Jackson and his family, please go to 

http://wakingupjackson.blogspot.com/