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Hymn to the Mother of God


O you boastful icon painters, know
no art is 'sacred'. By definition
your art is a servant. Just to be
a servant of the sacred, won't that
do for you? The caretaker
sweeping the floor? The
opening the door? Yes, there
is a mystery there, but
only very rarely does the icon
touch it - and even then
the mystery is only evoked
tangentially. But beware!
The mystery does not lie
in the one thing. In the image.
Mystery is a combat
and the combat occurs
in between - with the spirits
of the air
- since you and I
(and the caretaker and the doorkeeper),
by the mere fact
that we open our eyes
are locked
in the terrible embrace
Husserl calls 'intentionality'
and Heidegger
calls 'care'. 

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