It’s been a long hard winter and it continues. Last night it was minus nine degrees celsius in urban Birmingham. Frost still covers half the lawn. I have a heavy cold and hacking cough, making me exhausted from lack of sleep and drugged from strong medicine.
Yet, yesterday, as I rushed out the door to get ready for the first Mass, I caught a glimpse, a promise of Spring, the first – tiny – primrose of the year giving such colour and beauty in the garden.
And here, weeks, months, early, but in expectation after that first sight, that first smell is Gerard Manley Hopkins’ Spring:
| Nothing is so beautiful as spring— When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. What is all this juice and all this joy? - Gerard Manley Hopkins |
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Gerard Manley Hopkins, pilgrimage, poetry, prayer
| NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; | |
| Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man | |
| In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; | |
| Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be. | |
| But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me | 5 |
| Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan | |
| With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan, | |
| O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee? | |
| Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear. | |
| Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod, | 10 |
| Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer. | |
| Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród | |
| Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year | |
| Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
- Gerard Manley Hopkins |
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Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Gerard Manley Hopkins, Holy Week, poetry, prayer
| NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; | |
| Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man | |
| In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; | |
| Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be. | |
| But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me | 5 |
| Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan | |
| With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan, | |
| O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee? | |
| Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear. | |
| Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod, | 10 |
| Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer. | |
| Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród | |
| Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year | |
| Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God. |
Gerard Manley Hopkins
While I walked I was inspired by the (embarrassingly small) stock of poetry in my mind. I have quoted from Michael Hare Duke already. Another was a line from Adrienne Rich – ‘The dream of a common language’. And of course ‘God’s Grandeur’ by Gerard Manley Hopkins:
| The world is charged with the grandeur of God. |
| It will flame out, like shining from shook foil ; |
| It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil |
| Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod ? |
| Generations have trod, have trod, have trod ; |
| And all is seared with trade ; bleared, smeared with toil ; |
| And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell : the soil |
| Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. |
| And for all this, nature is never spent ; |
| There lives the dearest freshness deep down things ; |
| And though the last lights off the black West went |
| Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs— |
| Because the Holy Ghost over the bent |
| World broods with warm breast and with ah ! bright wings. |
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Camino de Levante, Gerard Manley Hopkins, pilgrimage, prayer, Slowing Down, snakes
I am sorry, but I can´t resist this title. Of course, I have been walking with Jesus all the way, in the times of deep prayer and in the times when it is almost impossible to put one foot in front of another. But yesterday morning we physically walked with Jesus, a university librarian from Leon who, like many Spanish people, is walking the Camino in chunks as he has holiday. He had to go much further than us, so we ended up following Jesus – which of course is the right place to be.
I am in Laza, still deep in the mountains of Galacia. Frost in the mornings, then heat. Incredibly beautiful, except when we asked a woman shepherding goats, she said it wasn´t – it must be an incredibly hard life for some people here.
As I walk I am reflecting on the parts of Gerard Manley Hopkins ´God´s Grandeur´that I have by heart. ¨Generations have trod, have trod, have trod¨has a very different meaning on the Camino. Sometimes on what are obviously very ancient sections of track I have a very strong feeling of connection with the pilgrims who have gone before.
Yesterday we stayed in the bar in Campobercerros. We ate with the family, caldo, the wonderful Galician bean and cabbage soup, the ubiquitous fried pork and chips, fruit. Today in a restaurant here, señora cooked especially for us, paella, chicken, salad, ice cream.
Jose Carlos and I tookj an excursion to Cerdedelo to visit the Shrine of Nuestra Señora de Pana Tellada. His tourist authority leaflet showed an enormous baroque Church. When we had passed it, we realized that the small gothic ermita and tiny cave with flowers was the shrine.
I realized as I walked today that I am not worried about anything. I am relaxed. I can trust God about today and tomorrow, and that is all I need. This is a wonderful gift that I pray I take home with me.
The calendar in the bar this morning reminded me that today is the Feast of Saint Teresa of Avila. Visiting her convent in Avila was a highlight for me. Roy, please eat some of her cakes for me.
Also, if Sam and Ben read this, I took a photo of a snake for you today.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Camino de Levante, Gerard Manley Hopkins, pilgrimage, prayer
I´ve got easy internet access for once, so a very quick update. Segovia this morning has been very good. I went to the Cathedral and they refused to accept an admission fee from me (of course I was able to make a donation). I spent time in the Chapel of Santiago in front of the Baroque reredos that sums up so much of the cultus. At eye level, St James the Pilgrim,; he looks sturdy enough but the slighty glazed expression in his eyes and his tongue slightly hanging out makes me think that he has just done more than 20 miles in the Spanish heat without quite enough water. Around it are scenes from his life, his martyrdom, and his body arriving at Compostela. And above this, Santiago Matamoros, James the Moor Slayer, in battle. I have been pondering this a lot, especially as more or less everywhere I have been there are veru obvious grafitti wars going on between facists and anti=facists. I guess Spain, in the middle of the recession, is working out where it lies in terms of immigration, having a Muslim population and the like. There is a lot oabout how St James has been used in the past which makes me very uncomfortable. Can he now fight for the Kingdom of God, the place of Gods righteousness, justice and peace.
But the cathedral is a deeply wonderful place. It was very good to reflect on and pray in front of St James Peregrino. And then to wonder into the Cloister. After La Mancha I am used to everything being burned to a crisp. Here is a place that could have been written into being by Gerard Manley Hopkins, a place of green freshness, of box hedges, roses and trees. A place to pray and give thanks for the changing chapters of this Pilgrimage and for the goodness of God.
I have had news this morning that Gertie McCracken, a stalwart of the Deaf Church and Deaf community in Birmingham has died. Please pray for her repose, for her family, abnd those who will be taking the funeral in my absense. If I could, I would be there.
