Noah, Chapter Three

Our tour guide sat us down on a stone bench before the main entrance to the Vatican Museum. She was a petite Italian woman with short blonde hair. She told us that once we got going, through the long hallways that led to the Sistine Chapel, she wouldn’t be able to give us what we needed to appreciate its the famous ceiling.

Once we got comfortable, she took a red book out of the tan bag that hung on her shoulder and began flipping through the pages, which described in detail every section of one of Michelangelo’s most famous works. She told us it took the 33-year-old four years to paint it, and that he didn’t want to do it in the first place. Commissioned by Pope Julius II, the room was meant only for the eyes of the most powerful; men who would be most able to understand the meaning the imagery held.

There too much to remember from a twenty-minute explanation, and the time we spent in the room in a quiet admiration of this ceiling. What I sticks with me most is Michelangelo’s choice to broadcast the section of Noah’s story in Chapter 9 of Genesis, that may have been left out of my CCD curriculum:

Noah and his Sons (Genesis 9, 20-27)

Now Noah, farmer of the land, he began to plant a vineyard. And he drank of the wine and became drunk and lay uncovered inside his tent. Ham, the father of Canaan, saw his father, and told his two brothers outside. Then Shem and lafet took a garment, laid it upon both their shoulders, and went backward and covered their father's nakedness; their faces were turned back, they saw not their father's nakedness. When Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done; then said, / "Cursed be Canaan! / Slave Slave / will be to his brothers" ./ And he said, / "Blessed be the Lord God of Shem; / Canaan be his slave / God expands lafet / and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem / Canaan be his slave. "

Noah drinks more wine than he should have while in the vineyard, his sons find him in a compromised state and do what they can to make it right, and the situation leads to an unpleasant family argument.  Not an image portraying the wonder of God's creation of light and darkness, earth and water, plant and animal, man and woman.  By chapter 9—all of these elements have blended together, in a discord and harmony that can’t be explained or controlled. And yet, life goes on. Generations continue, carrying their fears, flaws and sins.

I’m home now; almost over jet lag, but not quite. I’ve finally hand-washed the clothing items stained with gelato and red wine. Trying to eat more vegetables and less tortilla chips, be productive at work, get more sleep, “plan for my future." I’m back to ignoring and listening to the tiny nagging voices in my head. I just keep thinking about Michelangelo, twisting his body in all sorts of directions toward that ceiling, every stroke a plea to accept ourselves and each other for the mess we are.