The Punishment of the Arrogant Niobe by Diana and Apollo

In Greek Mythology, Niobe was the daughter of Tantalus. She was married to Amphion and together they had seven sons, and seven daughters. One day, Niobe was attending an annual celebration in the city of Thebes to honor of Leto (Latona) and her two children, Apollo and Artemis. Many people assembled to pay tribute offering up frankincense to the alters while paying their vows. Niobe is said to have arrived wearing extravagant clothing and jewelry, and upon entering the area, she began to protest. She went on and on about her and her husband's power, the fact that they had fourteen children, and the fortune for which they had amassed. She was, in a word, arrogant.

Leto was not pleased and in her rage, she ordered her children to kill Niobe's sons and daughters. Apollo is said to have found the sons practicing athletics where he then began to snipe each one, one-by-one, from the eldest to the youngest. When word reached Niobe and her husband, Amphion immediately became overcome by grief and plunged a dagger into his chest. Niobe, meanwhile, rushed to where her sons lay, embraced their corpses, and taunted Leto again. But as her daughters began to attend to their brothers' bodies, Artemis arrived and began killing them as well. It is said that Niobe, with one daughter left, pleaded for her life but it was to no avail.

I'd be remiss to not mention that there is some back-and-forth disagreement as to how many children were actually annihilated. But one thing does stand: Niobe's pride and arrogance were destroyed. In the wake of this massacre and according to mythology, Niobe is said to have fled to Mount Sipylus in her homeland of Phrygia where as she grieved, she turned into stone. Since she was weeping so unceasingly as she transformed, it is said that her tears continue to pour from the rock to this day.

The Punishment of the Arrogant Niobe by Diana and Apollo, by Pierre-Charles Jombert (1748-1825), is the oil on canvas painting depicting the chaos that had befallen Niobe and her children. It was originally titled this and created as a oil on canvas sketch which won Jombert First Prize at the Prix de Rome in 1772. Jombert would later go one to complete the piece featured here which was much more exquisite and detailed.

In it, we see Apollo and Artemis in the clouds above loosing arrows into Niobe's seven sons and seven daughters. Meanwhile, a despondent and desperate Niobe clings to her last remaining daughter as she seemingly pleads for her life while futilely attempting to shield her. Given the time and era, this piece was quite graphic but certainly represented the lore. Notably, Apollo and Artemis exhibit determination in their expressions, while below, the faces that remain alive exhibit horror and disbelief. Among the motion, shadow, and incredible use of light is a very vivid painting that is beautiful to behold and frightening to conceive.

An old idiom that's often expressed is, "How the mighty have fallen." It's actually derived from Scripture in 2 Samuel 1:27, but over the years, it has evolved to become a phrase used to remark about how someone who exhibited a lot of arrogance now faces the consequences of his or her actions. Niobe--for lack of a better way of saying it--had a big mouth. She had power, she had beauty, she had it all. Yet, seeing others celebrate a goddess and her two children was more than she could apparently handle. Rife with pride, she bellowed about how she deserved the attention and adoration more than Leto, and that led to her downfall. Not every arrogant jerk will face such immediate peril for their actions, but over time, most do lose their grip on power and prestige. What baffles me is how examples like this and so many others don't cause more people to make better choices. Even if they are graced with great wealth and a large family, it is pretty safe to say that an arrogant, entitled attitude toward everything and everyone else will only lead to destruction. Logically speaking, therefore, humility seems to be the safest, smartest way to live. Don't you think?

Our Banner in the Sky

The events of these past few weeks have been festering in my mind. Hurricanes, major forest fires, massive earthquakes — our planet seems to be groaning in the midst of moral and political turmoil, and the only thing I can think of is human life. Color means nothing, religious beliefs mean nothing, location is irrelevant; what matters most are lives. I don't pen this blog as a means by which to be preachy, or to wave an imaginary and morally-superior finger at you. I am writing this because when tragedy strikes, it's good to regain perspective and to remember the important things in our world, which have been clouded in recent months by too many other things far less important than being able to live and breathe. While acts of nature can be horrific and devastating, they are also opportunities to do what we humans do best: pull together.

A week ago, a friend of mine brought up something important that I hadn't thought of deeply enough. He said that it seems like, in this digital age with news streaming at us at light speed and at our fingertips all day long, we, as a society, have become numb to tragedy. It's as if we have access to an "emotion epidural", he called it, which many have injected into themselves in order to avoid having to comprehend the level of pain and devastation that has occurred. Hurricane Harvey hit Texas and the latest tally says at least 70 people have died from of it. I'll risk ridicule to step up and state I'm sure most in many other parts of the United States and the world just kind of thought of this as, well, eh, that's pretty awful, and then moved on. But then my friend asked, what if those 70 people died on your block? What if, among the 70 was — heaven forbid — a friend or family member? Suddenly, that 70 takes on a whole other meaning, and would likely scar you for life.

The 70 lives lost during Hurricane Harvey were each connected to many, many others. I dare even try to quantify the numbers, but I'm pretty sure we're in the thousands of other lives who are left heartbroken, questioning life and meaning, and will never be the same. That might not be you or me, but it's still fact. And the numbers of deaths don't stop there. Irma has since hit the Caribbean and is moving through Florida right this minute, there was an 8.1 magnitude earthquake just off the Mexican southwest coast, there are dozens of massive wild fires going on in California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Montana; all of these current tragedies are leaving bodies in their wakes. The sad part is, for those lost, there is nothing else we can do. They're gone. But those who have had their lives upended and are fortunate enough to be alive, can certainly use help beyond a few social media posts saying "thoughts and prayers" are with them. Ultimately and in humanity, there is still hope.

Our Banner in the Sky, by Frederic Edwin Church (1826-1900), is an oil-on-paper painting symbolically showing the Union flag in the sky seemingly attached to a destroyed tree as the flagpole. Church painted this in 1861 and in response to the Confederate attack on Fort Sumter which started the Civil War.

Church was a patriot and someone who expressed his hope in painting. (Some of his other works are quite marvelous to behold so I recommend checking them out when you can.) Fort Sumter was constructed after the Revolutionary War to help protect the harbor in Charleston, South Carolina. The men who guarded it had no idea the Confederate Army would attack them, nor did they know they'd be caught up in the beginnings of a very bloody war that still resonates to this day.

I love this piece because of what it symbolizes. Even in the midst of a terrible civil war, Church was able to show hope through his work. It's one thing to be at war with another nation, but the complexities of and the emotional roller-coaster that takes place in the hearts and minds of those caught up in a civil war must be much, much worse. Church, however, saw through it all and clung to his belief that hope would prevail.

By no means am I trying to demean what's happening in our world today. My heart breaks for those who have lost loved ones, had their lives destroyed, and are suffering right now to pick up the pieces. The level of hopelessness must be overwhelming, and it's resonating inside me. But I also know that good is coming. Good is happening right now! Hope is very much alive as millions of dollars are being donated, others are risking their lives to help save people and animals in need, and truckloads of donated goods and supplies are making their way to the victims right this second. Why? Because others who have the means are seeing beyond the tragedy and doing what they can to help their fellow human-beings in need. It makes for an interesting two-fold expression of hope: that there is hope to begin with, and that the acts of caring, selfless people are hope in action.