Pilgrimpace's Blog


night

I’m enjoying a little space this early evening mulling over preaching during the services of the next few days.  I’m thinking quite a bit about night, darkness, love, justice.  Tomorrow morning I will walk to Birmingham Cathedral along the canal or the River Rea to reach the Chrism Mass, being fed in all sorts of ways before feeding others.

Thinking of those at the End Hunger Fast Vigil in London this evening, those who will go to bed hungry this evening, those with the power to do something about this.

Two poems below.  The last section of Thomas Merton’s Hagia Sophia, then some John of the Cross:

The shadows fall. The stars appear. The birds begin to sleep.
Night embraces the silent half of the earth. A vagrant, a destitute
wanderer with dusty feet, finds his way down a new road. A 
homeless God, lost in the night, without papers, without 
identifications, without even a number, a frail expendable exile
lies down in desolation under the sweet stars of the world and 
entrusts Himself to sleep.

The Dark Night of the Soul

St John Of the Cross

On a dark night, 
Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!–
I went forth without being observed, 
My house being now at rest.

In darkness and secure, 
By the secret ladder, disguised–oh, happy chance!–
In darkness and in concealment, 
My house being now at rest.

In the happy night, 
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught, 
Without light or guide, save that which burned in my 
heart.

This light guided me 
More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me–
A place where none appeared.

Oh, night that guided me, 
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, 
Lover transformed in the Beloved!

Upon my flowery breast, 
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him, 
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

The breeze blew from the turret 
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck 
And caused all my senses to be suspended.

I remained, lost in oblivion; 
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself, 
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.

 

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