Rembrandt's Mirror by Kim Devereux Page B

punishment of unrighteousness.’
    What did he mean by punishment? I thought again of Rembrandt and Geertje in that box bed. Were they not afraid of God’s punishment? I could not begin to imagine what it must be like to burn in hell for all eternity. Or was this , my life as it was, an ongoing series ofpunishments before redemption? Life did not seem that bad, but perhaps if I’d visited the heavenly Jerusalem then being back here would seem like punishment. Yes, I did want to be with God, so that I would no longer feel separate and incomplete.
    The gateway to the invisible – what had Rembrandt meant by that? I could not grasp it with my mind, the invisible , and yet I wanted to experience it more than anything, even more than being loved by God. Again I quelled these unbidden thoughts. I was so imperfect, so in need of God’s love. I must not become distracted. I put my hand in my mouth and bit down on it until it hurt. I wanted it to hurt. I had sinned, was constantly sinning. Obviously I could not reform myself without God’s help. I needed to go to Him and not stand back as I had always done, was doing even now.
    Van Lodenstein’s face suddenly softened as he invited the congregation to partake of the Holy Supper. How generous he was, even to us sinners.
    He looked towards heaven. ‘O eternal God and merciful Father, we humble ourselves before thy great majesty, against which we have frequently and grievously sinned.’
    I had to hold on to the pew in front for I had a longing again to kneel, even to prostrate myself, to give myself to God at last – such a shame that the reformists had done away with hassocks. I wanted to repent and beg forgiveness and know what it was to be absolved, washed clean of all I had done and was yet to do. I lowered my head in submission to God’s will, trying to make each of van Lodenstein’s words my own most fervent plea. ‘We acknowledge our waywardness,and are truly sorry for all our sins. Wash us in the pure spring of Jesus’ blood, so that we may become clean and white as snow. Inscribe thy law upon the granite of our heart. And give us the desire and strength to follow your commandments.’
    â€˜Amen,’ said many voices as one. Then we all rose and gathered around the table that had been prepared for the Lord’s Supper. I pushed my way through the crowds to get to the front, desperate to be absolved.
    I was relieved to find my name had already been added to the list, though I had only registered with the Church Council a few days ago. How efficient of them. I took the tiny piece of bread and drank the wine and imagined that it cleansed me of all my sins and my mind of its imaginings.
    As I left, I noticed a few people who had been excluded from partaking of the Eucharist. How cruel, I thought, to leave them with their sins.
    I emerged into bright sunshine. What to do? I felt too weak to wander about in the heat. I’d head back to the house and find something to do. Put my resolution into practice. Learn to resist the demands of my growling stomach.
    When I walked through the front door, I tried to work out who was in the house. It was easy enough to tell if Geertje was there but the master tended to work quietly. Somehow the place felt empty. He must be out. It did not really matter either way.
    I went into the kitchen and grabbed the sheets again. They hadmore holes than a Swiss cheese. No, I had to get something into my stomach first, so I drank some more diluted beer and then sat down on the chair, needle in hand, and set about my tedious task.
    As it was growing dark I realized that I’d been helping myself to the beer without checking first that there was plenty left. I gave it a shake – it was near enough empty and it was the last barrel. Tomorrow a normal day’s work would resume with a dozen thirsty pupils and assistants.
    Geertje was still not back. I’d have to get some beer – but