A time to grieve.

For most people, the word pieta triggers an image of Michelangelo's sculpture housed in St. Peter's Basilica at the Vatican. This version by an unnamed artist could not be more different-smaller than Michelangelo's carving and made of wood rather than marble. As this Mary cradles her dead child, she is brokenhearted rather than serene, desperate instead of comprehending.

The body of Jesus carries the ravages of death, the emaciation of torture. The venerated wounds in his hands, feet, and side blossom with his blood; he lies awkwardly in his mother's arms, the grace of the human body now clumsy in death. The sharp thorns of his crowned head rebuff maternal cuddling.

Paul wrote with the insight of faith, "Where, O death, is your sting?" (1 Cor. 15:55). Try to locate this conviction when a loved one lies lifeless, when a young person's life ends too soon, when violence obliterates human potential.

The Roettgen-Pieta hides none of death's cruelty and injustice. Frankly it poses the question that all of us must face: How do we go on? The one whose son suffered a cruel execution accompanies us in our losses.

Image: The RoettgenPieta, c. 1300. Wood, 35 in. high. Collection of Rheinisches Landesmuseum, Bonn, Germany. Photo: Erich Lessing/Art Resource, N.Y.

By Jerry Bleem, O.F.M., a priest and artist who teaches at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.