A long time ago, in England, a skilled stonecutter is carving the statues and gargoyles that will be placed atop the walls of a new cathedral. People watch in amazement as the fantastic figures emerge from the plain stone blocks.
The saints he is carving are so beautiful. But the gargoyles are so ugly. Then, one day a stranger comes and challenges the stonecutter to carve Lucifer as he was in his original beauty before his fall.
The stonecutter refuses and is cursed by the stranger. Later, when the stonecutter is high on the tower, working from the flimsy scaffolding, the winds suddenly rise furiously. They fling the stonecutter off the scaffold, and as he tumbles downwards he cries out a prayer from his heart...
This medieval story inspired by the stonework of gothic cathedrals. How do we nourish the live-giving images arising from our imaginations? And how do we deal with the nightmares and fearful images that tempt and challenge us? How the practice of an art heals and nurtures.
Please share your response to the story of The Stonemason Who Fell with me. As the teller, I wonder how the story was heard… by You. Thanks!