image source: wikipedia.org
I came across this image in a little booklet of angel-themed postcards: J. F. Picot's L'Amour et Psyché.
The general English translation is "Cupid and Psyche", which brings to mind all sorts of things - the original Greek tale, certainly, but also C. S. Lewis' masterpiece, Till We Have Faces. But as I look at that French title, it is the radical that strikes me (as the radical sometimes does).
What is the direct translation of 'L'Amour et Psyché'?
Love and the soul.
That's You and me, I thought.
That's each of us and Him.
That story was reality before the ancient Greeks ever dreamed of it. And, in reality, Love is much more than merely a mischievous, winged boy. He descended to earth and became man for us, and then he sacrificed himself for us, "his heart an open wound with love." He gave his body for us, and made it so that, while we wait for him to return, we may eat of his body and drink of his blood every day, and draw strength and sanctity from it: that, by taking him into ourselves, he may take us up into him, transforming us, making us into true lovers, worthy of having been made in his image and likeness.
How good it is, to have been given a reality sweeter than the wildest dream, more wondrous than the most fantastic of fairytales.
O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine...