Joey Tomassoni on The Good News
This entry is a part of an on-going blog series called The Good News, which is taking place throughout the Easter Season, from Easter to Pentecost. A full list of the contributors can be found here. Joey’s local newspaper is The Washington Post. Here is Joey Tomassoni on the Good News.
THE GOOD NEWS
Shattering the vessel, all heads turn, aroma permeating the room, standing, he, who in the beginning carefully crafted the nard, now being poured over tired, earth covered feet, the same dirt he formed out of nothing. To some this was not functional, the perfume could have been sold and benefits given to the poor, and why this woman? After all she was deemed sinner, damned a hoar. Her body, used for things unspeakable, unthinkable, a vessel of lust, a receptor and transmitter of sin, yet to him, she was a scent of preparation, in a coming death, her body now a living temple, anointing, the holy one, son of Adam, the disguised king in a cape and hood, in hiding from the expecting world, soon to suffer, tears now coming.
It was he who calculated and composed the capacity to express sorrow and joy through tears, like those now flowing from her eyes, wetting his feet, droplets of life, saturating every pore of the skin, wrinkling even toes, weeping without control, all other senses are paused, his feet feel all, her tears mixed with the perfume, a concoction spreading over his dusted, calloused feet, now being prepared by her hair.
And her hair, fragile strands through which a multitude of men had run their hands, wetted with salted tears and scents of the broken perfume racing into the nostrils of each person in the room, hair now dancing across the feet of God, ever cautiously and yet in violent succession, moving as one covering, desperate to anoint his coming hurt, longing to wash, bonded by the perfume mixed with tears and dirt. Did he recount his creative act? When like the silk worm, he delicately spun the first woman’s hair, fragile, she touching his feet, scorched by the eastern sun, waiting for his rite of passage into the coming sorrow.
Sorrow she knew, and understood, that perfume, tears and hair are never enough. How to express love, a love both more ravishing and liberating than anything she had previously known, felt, experienced, how might she convey, through the broken vessel that she was? Lips, yes her lips, she knew with them how to convey, made to love one, though grazing the mouths and bodies of many men. Her lips, soft, worn, now kissing his heavy-laden feet, the places where soon he would receive piercings filled of blood. He knew the goodness of the lips he crafted, their capacity, to receive and give unspoken utterances of love and in some instances, betrayal. Now he was experiencing them in carnated form, the goodness of creation, this minor part of the body imbued with such power and expression.
Hers were the most intentioned of kisses, perhaps she had ever given, radiating new love but not like with other men, for she had given herself to many men, but never like this before. Now, she, letting her body for the first time in whole, undone, her existence, created, vulnerable, offering herself, posturing herself before her maker. By that world, she, called a hoar, though her body, as with tears and blood, now cleansing pure, in identification with him, she completed, given new worth and, he, being prepared for a cross, pleasure before pain, joy before suffering, anointed by a holy temple that was her, he, now receiving from creation a sign of grace, an aroma that was soon to permeate time, space, the watching world.
|Joey is an artist living and working in the D.C./Annapolis/Baltimore triangle to cultivate meaningful expressions of church through different communities. He also works with a variety of media to make things including drawings, prose, songs for his children, wall paintings, films, paint by number books and social experiments that explore relational aesthetics. He is married to his muse from their teenage years and together they have collaborated to make his best work to date, two zany children called Wisdom and Light.|