1152
Henry II of England marries Eleanor of Aquitaine.
1593
Playwright Thomas Kyd’s accusations of heresy lead to an arrest warrant for Christopher Marlowe
1860
Abraham Lincoln wins the Republican Party presidential nomination over William H. Seward, who later becomes the United States Secretary of State.
1896
The United States Supreme Court rules in Plessy v. Ferguson that the “separate but equal” doctrine is constitutional.
1980
1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens: Mount St. Helens erupts in Washington, United States, killing 57 people and causing $3 billion in damage.
“A bird with a 10-gram brain is doing pretty much the same as a chimp with a 400-gram brain. How is it possible?”--Onur Güntürkün, who studies brain structures at Ruhr University Bochum in Germany.
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InventWood makes a carbon-based material that has 50% more tensile strength than steel with a strength-to-weight ratio that’s 10 times better, the company said. It’s also Class A fire rated, or highly resistant to flame, and resistant to rot and pests. With some polymer impregnated, it can be stabilized for outdoor use like siding, decking, or roofing. InventWood’s first products will be facade materials for commercial and high-end residential buildings.
Compressing the material also concentrates the colors. You end up with something that looks like rich, tropical hardwoods.
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Sunday/Feeling the Difficulty of Faith
“If there is a single painter with whom the new millennium has identified, it is without a doubt Caravaggio,” begins the catalogue for Caravaggio 2025, an extraordinary exhibition of twenty-four of the artist’s works, gathered at Rome’s Palazzo Barberini from museums and private collections across the world. The crowds are big.
This hasn’t always been the case. After falling into obscurity for several centuries, Caravaggio’s (1571-1610) star began to rise again in 1951 thanks to a similar exhibition organized in Milan by the great art historian Roberto Longhi.
The painter’s life fits the post-Byronic template for a tragic artist –- salacious liaisons, murder, exile, and an untimely death on the unforgiving (but romantic) Italian coast. Romanticism put a premium on artistic self-expression, and Caravaggio’s work was undeniably original because of the inner tumult that gushes from his figures. Those figures are not always conventionally beautiful, but they are compelling.
Yet these considerations don’t quite explain Caravaggio’s magnetic draw. Perhaps above all, Caravaggio was a great religious painter; something about his style resonates with the spiritual aspirations and shortcomings of our age. His works on secular themes are clever, but don’t convey the power of his later religious works. And none of those works are quite so powerful as the Flagellation, Supper at Emmaus, and Ecce Homo with Jesus Christ at their center. One feels a yearning for redemption in the darkness of the artist’s life.
Caravaggio biographer Andrew Graham-Dixon locates the roots of Caravaggio’s style in the reforms of Milan’s great archbishop St. Charles Borromeo (1538-1584). Borromeo was the dominant cultural and religious figure in Caravaggio’s native Lombardy at the time of the artist’s birth. Guided by the Council of Trent’s emphasis on the sacraments and the imaginative prayer of St. Ignatius Loyola, Borromeo favored an intense, dramatic, devotional style Graham-Dixon describes as “populist.”
These characteristics, alongside Borromeo’s awareness of the darkness that original sin casts over our existence, are distilled in Caravaggio’s mature work. In the Flagellation or the Conversion of St. Paul or St. Francis contemplating death, one feels no scholastic abstraction, but salvation worked out achingly in wounded flesh.
Another art historian, Alessandro Zuccari, points out that all available evidence indicates that Caravaggio’s religious beliefs were conventionally Catholic. He confessed and received Communion at Easter and participated in forty-hours Eucharistic devotions. The fiery temper that caused the artist so much grief is evidence of concupiscence, not heterodoxy.

Exiled from Rome after killing a man in a duel, Caravaggio spent the rest of his life seeking papal forgiveness instead of fortune in the Protestant principalities of northern Europe. When his self-portrait appears in scriptural scenes, it has a haggard, yearning look. But feeling the difficulty of faith is not the same thing as unbelief. And that’s, I suspect, why the artist’s work so resonates today.
In Michelangelo’s muscular figures, we witness the robust marriage of faith and Renaissance humanism. The inky darkness of Caravaggio’s scenes anticipates an age when faith no longer feels so inevitable. At Caravaggio 2025, I was struck by the arrangement of St. Francis in Ecstasy – the saint, reclining in soft angelic arms, fills one side of the painting, but its center is all shadow. If you look closely, you can make out figures in the distance, but just barely.
Other works also seem sketched at the border between faith and unbelief. In Caravaggio’s two versions of the Supper at Emmaus, the disciples’ bodies reel with the shock of recognizing the risen Lord, but in both cases, a weary innkeeper looks on with faint irritation, as if hoping they’d just place their order and finish their meal. Not all have eyes to see.
The Conversion of St. Paul, across town in the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo, forces viewers to question their own vision. In it, the young Saul, on the ground with outstretched arms, has literally been floored by a vision of Christ, but Caravaggio doesn’t paint that vision. All the viewer sees is the rear end of Saul’s horse. Like an examination of conscience that stings, the painting asks, “Do you have eyes to see?”
An earlier version, on loan to Caravaggio 2025 from a private collection, is a less inventive (and busier) composition but poses a similarly uncomfortable challenge. The figure of Jesus, attended by a cherub, is visible in the sky and Saul is on the ground again, covering his eyes. His attendant, however, is upright and armed with shield and spear, which he aims at Christ, as if to fight him off. Not everyone welcomes the Lord’s appearance.--from Fr. Anthony R. Lusvardi, S.J. in Catholic Thing