Word: angelus
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Turmoil & Calm. The Barbizon artist most misunderstood in later years was Jean François Millet, whose studies of peasants, notably The Angelus and The Man with a Hoe, splashed him with a reputation for sentimentality. Millet himself protested that he could not understand how anybody could consider the French peasant "jolly," and today, seen afresh, the paintings justify his protests. He painted his peasants with brooding compassion, saw in them "true humanity, the great poetry," but the mood is somber rather than sentimental. They bend to their labors patiently but also hopelessly, condemned to struggle against stubborn nature...
Canadian-born Aimee Semple McPherson, 28, landed in Los Angeles in 1918 with $10 and a tambourine. Six years later she had built these assets into the $1,500,000 Angelus Temple and a $25,000 radio station, all paid for by cash donations from the fanatic flock that supported her Foursquare Gospel...
...Angelus Temple and the Foursquare Gospel did not pass away with Aimee. Today the movement flourishes, with 113,-ooo members, 720 U.S. churches and 800 missionary stations round the world. In charge of the sect: Aimee's quiet, unassuming son, Rolf McPherson, 46, who shuns publicity...
When Alba Guidotti added three strokes of the bell to her ringing of the Angelus in her uncle's church, her sweetheart, Rinaldo. knew that she would slip out that night and wait for him in the vineyard. They were very happy, but when at last it came time to talk of marriage, Alba's father said no-again and again. He was just about to give his consent, he says now, when Rinaldo was drafted into Italy's World War II army and sent to Greece...
...march in pallid ranks like ghosts of the land-ravaging conquistadors. Into the storm an Indian leans, and with his mattock chops a hopeless furrow which the wind fills silently behind him."Who digs the land,"the Indians say, "digs his own grave." He pauses, arrested in a Mexican Angelus. Somewhere in this howling world, in a bare mud hut, his child is crying in a basket, and by a tiny fire his wife slaps stolidly at a small tortilla that will be his only supper. The heart of the Indian fills with dread. If he cannot make some money...