This volume works through deconstructing traditional models of the imago Dei in search of a more inclusive understanding of the doctrine, one that allows for literature to bring important questions to bear. Brief analyses of Karl Barth and Paul Tillich and then growing dissatisfaction with the two in various liberation theologies brings to light the problems of a perfected image of God. An exploration of four novels by Jean Rhys between 1928 and 1939 then follows the footsteps of Katie Cannon and others who include literature in their theological work. The Rhys novels follow tragic stories of women who are wounded both by others and by their own inability to see themselves as worthy. Through the questions these women ask about themselves and God, the reconstruction of the imago Dei is set up. This reconstruction centers trauma, wounds, and a non-contrastive transcendence that Kathryn Tanner defines. Ultimately it is not in how we are perfect, but rather through our risks, our wounds, and even our grief that we connect to God.

Gordon W. Lathrop explores the place of the Bible as the subject of critical exegesis in contemporary liturgy. The text is grounded in the life of the assembly and the role of intertextuality in its creation. Lathrop finds patterns in biblical narratives that suggest revising our models of the "shape" of liturgy (Dix, Schmemann) and our understanding of baptism, preaching, Eucharist, and congregational prayer.Saving Images calls for a new, reconceived biblical-liturgical movement that takes seriously both biblical scholarship and the mystery at the heart of worship.

This edited collection explores the image of the wound as a ‘cultural symptom’ and a literary-visual trope at the core of representations of a new concept of selfhood in Early Modern Italian and English cultures, as expressed in the two complementary poles of poetry and theatre. The semantic field of the wounded body concerns both the image of the wound as a traumatic event, which leaves a mark on someone’s body and soul (and prompts one to investigate its causes and potential solutions), and the motif of the scar, which draws attention to the fact that time has passed and urges those who look at it to engage in an introspective and analytical process. By studying and describing the transmission of this metaphoric paradigm through the literary tradition, the contributors show how the image of the bodily wound—from Petrarch’s representation of the Self to the overt crisis that affects the heroes and the poetic worlds created by Ariosto and Tasso, Spenser and Shakespeare—could respond to the emergence of Modernity as a new cultural feature.

The modern media world came into being in the nineteenth century, when machines were harnessed to produce texts and images in unprecedented numbers. In the visual realm, new industrial techniques generated a deluge of affordable pictorial items, mass-printed photographs, posters, cartoons, and illustrations. These alluring objects of the Victorian parlor were miniaturized spectacles that served as portals onto phantasmagoric versions of 'the world.' Although new kinds of pictures transformed everyday life, these ephemeral items have received remarkably little scholarly attention. Picture World shines a welcome new light onto these critically neglected yet fascinating visual objects. They serve as entryways into the nineteenth century's key aesthetic concepts. Each chapter pairs a new type of picture with a foundational keyword in Victorian aesthetics, a familiar term reconceived through the lens of new media. 'Character' appears differently when considered with caricature, in the new comics and cartoons appearing in the mass press in the 1830s; likewise, the book approaches 'realism' through pictorial journalism; 'illustration' via illustrated Bibles; 'sensation' through carte-de-visite portrait photographs; 'the picturesque' by way of stereoscopic views; and 'decadence' through advertising posters. Picture World studies the aesthetic effects of the nineteenth century's media revolution: it uses the relics of a previous era's cultural life to interrogate the Victorian world's most deeply-held values, arriving at insights still relevant in our own media age.

The main objective of this book is to analyze prominent literary images of Delhi in post-independence India. The author has probed into a number of eminent writings in Hindi, English and other languages. The author's methodology, a humanistic and phenomenological approach, allows exploration of experiential dimension of writers’ and their characters in various genres of literature. An inquiry into perceptions and imagination in literature enriches the understanding of place, space, time, and seasons, the concerns central to geography. The Perceptions of the metropolis of Delhi interestingly vary between authors and their characters. The images of Delhi in plethora of literary works show a wide spectrum of colors. The images evoke feelings of reverence, love, adoration, dislike, indifference or neutrality. Experiences vary from places of beauty and grandeur to utterly ugly environments. Natives express different views and attitudes toward the city of Delhi from those of expatriate writers.

Explores the wounded body in literature from Homer to Toni Morrison, examining how it functions archetypally as both a cultural metaphor and a poetic image.

Suitable for Advent or Lent, these meditations on pictorial images of light are navigational aids in the ascent to trust in the triumph. In a relatively late in life synthesis of her interests in art and religion, Sharon R. Chace explores art that evokes the light of a star, inclusion, forgiveness, caring, healing, speaking truth to power, transfiguration, and resurrection. Questions for individual or group consideration invite further reflection and discussion about the art and personal experiences. Living in the light is a way to participate in God-like healing love. Being lights in the world can help one another sustain trust in the implicit meaning of Christmas and Easter that is in the prologue of the Gospel of John (1:1-5). The Gospel writer concludes with a declarative sentence of promise: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."