Someone posted this on Facebook and there was much giggline. I dunno. I think it's quite powerful. I don't know about you, but I've sat in a public bathroom and prayed for the absence of a little blue line. And been so grateful for the relief instead of the fear. And I wasn't even in danger of being stoned to death for my indiscretion.
Just say there really was a divine immaculate conception. Imagine. Imagine how it would feel to learn you weren't crazy, or that your dream had been real. Or perhaps to think maybe you WERE crazy.
I don't know. Sure it's a good get-out-of-stoning-free story. Or maybe just a good story. There's a lot of feminist fiction to be garnered from it, and the child's subsequent conviction that his father is God. If you're not precious about your bible stories, that is.
Still. My point is one of sympathy for a common experience, rather than anything blasphemous or snide to be found in this painting. I really like it.
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