[joea]

A plea for reconciliation:

http://www.orthodoxcanada.org/coment...on-kosovo.html

A MEDITATION ON HARDEN’S DIORAMA: A FIELD OF POPPIES

Introduction

Every human tragedy may be considered a tragedy for humanity since all of mankind shares a common human nature. The fact that we do not recognise ourselves in the peoples of other tribes, nations and cultures is among the greatest of our human failings. How is it that we so seldom understand from our heart that all human beings feel pain, hopelessness, despair, love, joy, hope and aspirations in the same way that we do? Perhaps it is because we also act with fear, malice, hatred and prejudice in the same manner?
Every nation, every tribe, every race and every era of mankind produces both great humanitarians and savage tyrants and every form of character in between. The constant struggle of mankind is to become fully human, to recover the image and likeness of God in ourselves for in God's image and likeness we were all created and to learn to see that image in every other human being. We can validate our own humanity in no other way than by fully acknowledging from the heart the equal humanity of those whom we consider to be enemies. This can only be accomplished when, together, we can liberate ourselves from the tyranny of the past.
Every tribe, every nation, is most profoundly self-identified by its ethnic legends, heroes and national mythologies. These are far more powerful than the mundane realities of history, and it is those great moments and outstanding persons both heroes and villains alike which forge a stage upon which heroes and great events act out their roles, are of little note and seldom are remembered. Yet these people often are the real heroes who so often endure and carry on under the heaviest of burdens. It is through them that the ultimate triumph of the human spirit is accomplished and witnessed.
It is the manner in which we interpret these great events and the heroes that marshal them which shapes our spiritual lives and defines the inner qualities of our souls. The fact that the Serbs chose as their national holiday the anniversary of their greatest defeat, the Battle of Kosovo in 1389, speaks volumes. It is necessary to understand how we interpret this event in order to comprehend the history of this event and its aftermath. The battle, called "Vidodan" because it was fought on the Feast Day of Saint Vidus (Vitus), took place on a hillside, covered with poppies, in the Serbian "holy land," known today as Kosovo-Metochia. For us Serbs, Vidodan has a direct connection to another great battle, waged on a hill outside the holy city of Jerusalem, also covered with poppies. That great battle, between Darkness and Light, was waged by Jesus Christ on the Cross atop the hill of Golgotha. For us, the Battle of Kosovo is our direct identity with Golgotha, with Christ on the Cross, and with the ancient Christian martyrs. It is here that our nation and its people shared in the suffering of our own ancient martyrs and truly became partakers of Christ's sacrifice on Calvary.

Among the great national monuments of the Serbs and their kings there are no rich palaces or formidable castles only churches and monasteries, the largest number of which are found in Kosovo-Metochia, which for centuries has been the spiritual and religious heartland of Serbia. Within this fabled provine lie the richest treasures of Serbian Orthodox Christianity; it is here that one finds some of the world's most deeply spiritual Christian art and relics. For me and for most Serbs, it represents the visible, tangible spiritual reality of our lives. Clearly then, Serbian consciousness of Kosovo-Metochia as a holy land is not simply part of a national mythology. The sense of the field of poppies amidst the Battle of Kosovo, as an image of Golgotha, is only heightened as we watch with indescribable grief our people being martyred and our holy places being destroyed anew, by wanton hatred for their representation as Christian people, Christian monuments, and for Christ Himself. If the sense of Kosovo as our identity with Golgotha was powerful before, it has been burned ever more deeply into the Serbian psyche. Only by comprehending this can one address the current tragedies of Kosovo-Metochia successfully. This is, however, only one aspect of the Kosovo crisis.
Regardless of the means by which Albanians began to dominate the province of Kosovo-Metochia, the fact is they do! They have their own perspective, their own agenda and, though they are intangible, their own mythologies. In the absence of understanding, compassion and a sincere recognition of each other's humanity, history and aspirations, this crisis will continue its painful progress as an ongoing and deeply wounding human tragedy. Both Serbs and Albanians have their realities, their legends, and their deep attachment to Kosovo-Metochia, whose history has been told and retold a hundred times by a hundred authors. It is not for us to retell it once again here, but rather to appeal to the humanity of all those who find themselves in the midst of this sorrow.
Art does not address history so much as it addresses the human soul, and thereby bares the heart of a society to the eyes of the world. Richard Harden's monumental work, In a Field of Poppies, is one of the most powerful and compelling explorations of this ineffable tragedy. Thus it speaks to my heart, and I hope to the hearts of all who may see this work of art exhibited.

A Meditation on Harden's Painting "In a Field of Poppies"

The field of poppies sweeps like a river of fire that burns deeply into both Serbian and Albanian hearts. In the ancient battlefield the Blackbird Meadow only a little green from spring rains, the crimson poppies bloom like bloodstains on the landscape of the Balkan psyche. National myths rise with the mist, obscuring the purer visions of humanity. Who dies and who lives become questions lessened only by the anguish over who has a right to plant his dead in Kosovo's soil.
They hate because they love. Their singular tragedy is that they cannot reconcile themselves to each other's love. They love the land and cannot tolerate each other's presence on it. This land, this narrow strip of soil, this hallowed ground of Kosovo-metochia, is so deeply woven into the fabric of their souls that even those Serbs who have not yet seen it feel its presence in their consciousness.
The twisted remains a bicycle that perhaps had once made a child's eyes sparkle is slowly engulfed by the poppies. A flaming house burns without being consumed, branding the landscape like the fire of malevolence that torments the human soul.
If only the same fire could cauterise the wounds and refine the love from the human dross of fear and hatred. Is there no means of reconciliation? Must it forever be the destiny of Kosovo to harbour shattered lives and nurse the deadliest of human passions?
The land does not ask, "Whose bones are these that decorate my hillsides; whose broken dreams and conquered hopes smoulder in my valleys?" From her desolate hillsides a soft wind murmurs through the now stunted trees, whispers across the land and ruffles the poppies in the Blackbird Meadow. It is a mournful breeze the sound of lamentation. Like Rachel, Kosovo weeps for her children and will not be comforted because they are gone.
Archbishop Lazar Puhalo