Last week, I was in Bruges. We were standing in front of yet another unbelievably stunning painting by the Flemish artist Hans Memling, in a 12th century hospital built specifically for the poor, when my daughter said: "Oh no. Another picture of Jesus. Did they ever paint anything else?"
上周我去了布鲁日，在一家12世纪专门为穷人建造的医院里，我们正欣赏着佛兰德艺术家Hans Memling的一副惊世画作，我女儿突然说，“我了个去，又是耶稣像，他们还能画点别的么。”
"Source": "I had to laugh. Although I knew that most artists of the 15th century were obliged to paint religious scenes and that these were some of the best ever painted, I shared her complaint. For the last hour we'd gone from one brilliant depiction of the infant Jesus to another, without a profane image in sight. The whole town was saturated in a heavy religious culture. The accumulative effect was becoming monotonous - even oppressive.
我只能笑笑。我对此深有同感，虽然我知道，15世纪的艺术家们不得不去画那些宗教场景，即便有些是存世画作中最好的。最后一小时，我们看了一幅又一幅小耶稣的精彩画像，全无半点亵渎之意。整个小镇浸淫在一种浓厚的宗教文化氛围中，日积月累之后略显单调甚至沉闷。
Which got me thinking: if someone who believes in what's being depicted in these paintings is struggling to connect with their spiritual content, perhaps all this rich culture is obscuring rather than enhancing the story that inspired it. Is it possible to find the original spark of faith in it - or has it been snuffed out by the weight of tradition and history. Could I even spot the difference?
我不由得想，如果相信画中场景的人难以与画作精神内涵取得共鸣，恐怕这丰富的文化不但没能突出画中的故事，反而使其面目模糊。能否在其中发现最初那一星半点的信仰呢？又或者，这种信仰是不是最终被传统和历史的厚重感给抹杀了呢？我能看出这两者的差别来吗？
