I’ve got a picture of God the Father with his Orange.

I don’t know if that’s actually true or not. The caption is in German and it reads: Gottvater mit der Weltkugel

I know. I can Google it and I suppose I will, but right now I want to stick with the orange because it seems to be a theme this week--and because this postcard of a stained glass window by Giacometti does look like God holding a most marvelous orange. One the size of a soccerball. One filled with light and rich dimension.

I took out the postcards, looking for the one of the monastery in Einsiedeln with the confounding pink excess of Rococo, and found this other from a Cathedral in Zurich. It’s beautiful.

A strange God in synch with the strange composition of the universe, of our earth, of this single human. Yes. God the Father with His Orange is a comfort. A God at ease with the absurd.

It’s the only postcard I bought two of. I now have them propped against the bedroom wall: Two Gods mit Oranges watching me type.