I happened to come across this photograph from World War II when
leafing through an issue of the Los Angeles Times Book Review. I
don't remember what the book was — I'm pretty
sure it had something to do with that war or the Holocaust or something like
that. I don't even remember who took this photograph or what it was about. It did say something about it being
Warsaw, but the Times itself had little about it in the
caption. Certainly its sole purpose was to complement the reviewed book.
But this
photograph.
I was
captivated by it. And the reason is simple.
This is the
Catholicist Nation.
It is the very
best graphic metaphor for what every individual without Christ does every moment
of his existence. His life is one of abject destitution, having no meaning or
connection with anything of true value —
he instinctively knows that that valuable thing is there somewhere, but
because he knows he doesn't have it and can't let on that he doesn't, he
pretends he does. The entire World is one great pretense.
Oh, this
picture. Just like the German war machine, people wreck all things around them
when they live out the fullness of their sin. Instead of leaving this reign of
destruction hand-in-hand with the One who'd gently lead them out, they hang
around and play in the rubble. They are, as C.S. Lewis put it so well, "making mudpies in the
slums because [they] cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at
the sea."
This picture
of a picture. In fact, this here is a picture of a picture of a picture (oh
I'd bet Plato would love this). Those slogging through the Catholicist
Nation could have the
palace and the lake and the forest,
But they like
the picture.
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