Aramaic scrolls, recently uncovered in Eastern Ethiopia, have finally been translated. It seems that Jesus of Nazareth was resurrected on the Julian calendar equivalent of our February 29! Theologians everywhere are trying to assess the validity of how we currently celebrate Easter. They feel that we cannot – with integrity – ignore this revelation solely to avoid conflict with our scheduling. How would we reschedule all the Christian holy days leading up to the culmination of our Lord’s pinnacle of achievement? How would we reschedule Mardi Gras, which is planned so many months in advance by communities all over the world? Then there is Ash Wednesday, with all those ashes lying in wait. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter, now placed upon a Sunday. If we were to shift the holy day to four year intervals, how would we assume the basis for using the moon as its determinant. In 325CE, when the Council of Nicaea decided that Easter would fall on the first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox, they started from a false premise, as these scrolls reveal. We now would need to determine that day four years in advance. The revelations revealed by these scrolls require a completely new rendering of the Christian calendar. In a way, they open up golden opportunities for new employment for artists, theologians, printers, candle makers, event planners, and costume designers. At last, in news of the day, we can find positivity of increased prosperity for so many: perhaps to truly decrease the enormous gap between the haves and the have nots of our day.
“An imbecile who only has eyes, if he is a painter, or ears if he is a musician, or a lyre in every chamber of his heart if he is a poet, or even, if he is a boxer, just his muscles?
Far from it: at the same time he is also a political being, constantly aware of the heartbreaking, passionate, or delightful things that happen in the world, shaping himself completely in their image.
How could it be possible to feel no interest in other people, and with a cool indifference to detach yourself from the very life which they bring to you so abundantly?
No, painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war.”
At about 16:30 on Monday, 26 April 1937, warplanes of the German Condor Legion, commanded by Colonel Wolfram von Richthofen, bombed Guernica for about two hours. Germany, at this time led by Hitler, had lent material support to the Nationalists and were using the war as an opportunity to test out new weapons and tactics. Later, intense aerial bombardment became a crucial preliminary step in the Blitzkrieg tactic.
After the bombing, Picasso was made aware of what had gone on in his country of origin. At the time, he was working on a mural for the Paris Exhibition to be held in the summer of 1937, commissioned by the Spanish Republican government. He deserted his original idea and on 1 May 1937, began on Guernica. This captivated his imagination unlike his previous idea, on which he had been working somewhat dispassionately, for a couple of months. It is interesting to note, however, that at its unveiling at the Paris Exhibition that summer, it garnered little attention. It would later attain its power as such a potent symbol of the destruction of war on innocent lives.
Guernica is certainly his most powerful political statement, painted as an immediate reaction to the Nazi’s devastating casual bombing practice on the Basque town of Guernica during Spanish Civil War.
Guernica shows the tragedies of war and the suffering it inflicts upon individuals, particularly innocent civilians. This work has gained a monumental status, becoming a perpetual reminder of the tragedies of war, an anti-war symbol, and an embodiment of peace. On completion Guernica was displayed around the world in a brief tour, becoming famous and widely acclaimed. This tour helped bring the Spanish Civil War to the world’s attention.