What this painting brought to mind was not a Sunday, but a Monday morning when this poor woman, full of sorrow and loss (like Mary on the first day grieving the loss of her beloved master and teacher), feeling the darkness of the grave and in the depth of despair, but having to carry on going to work as normal - when she feels life should not go on as normal - doesn't everyone feel the emptiness she feels? Then a stranger (the supposed gardener by the tomb?) offers her a sign of hope and new life (the freshly picked shoots) and says her name in such loving, gentle tones and suddenly her darkness lifts, the shoot that springeth green transforms her misery to great joy and hope for the future.
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What this painting brought to mind was not a Sunday, but a Monday morning when this poor woman, full of sorrow and loss (like Mary on the first day grieving the loss of her beloved master and teacher), feeling the darkness of the grave and in the depth of despair, but having to carry on going to work as normal - when she feels life should not go on as normal - doesn't everyone feel the emptiness she feels? Then a stranger (the supposed gardener by the tomb?) offers her a sign of hope and new life (the freshly picked shoots) and says her name in such loving, gentle tones and suddenly her darkness lifts, the shoot that springeth green transforms her misery to great joy and hope for the future.
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