Spiritual Sunday
I love this Allen Grossman poem, which came to mind last week as I listened (remotely) to our church’s reading of the Genesis creation story. God’s table, it assures us, is always bountifully spread for us. Although the guests have wandered away, leaving the Lord “at rest in his solitude,” the Lord’s voice can always be heard.
The image of the bountifully spread table reminds me of George Herbert’s “Love (3).” When the speaker says he is not worthy to sit down at the table, Love/Jesus responds, “You must sit down and taste my meat.” At which point “So I did sit and eat.”
The Lord’s voice, Grossman tells us, can be heard when life is difficult (“the dust of the roadway”), when life hammers us (“the random hammer of the sea”), when lives seems impossibly complicated (“the riddled vase of mind and mind’s dependencies”), when life is engulfed by pain. In all of these situations, the poet tells us,
The voice of the Lord opens the gates of day. Air streams through our eyes and brushes the pupils Streams through our eyes and this is how we see.
I love how God’s touch is both delicate (“brushes”) and constant (“streams”). Then, at the end, Grossman punctuates his analogy with a simple and direct matter-of-fact declaration (“and this is how we see”). So powerful!
The Song of the Lord
There is a table bountifully spread.
In the full sunlight when there is no cloud
And under cloudy skies,
And when there are no stars and when the stars
Distill the time.
the table stands in a field.
It is late morning and the service shines.
The guest have wandered from the company.
The Lord is alone.
It is good to hear
The voice of the Lord at rest in his solitude.
The guests have wandered from the table set,
But they hear the voice of the Lord at rest:
The song of the Lord in solitude goes up,
Ten times enfolded, blue, and saturate
With law to the heavens at noon of gaze,
And down among the graves and the darker animals.
The song of the Lord indicates the dust
Of the roadway, the random hammer of the sea,
The riddled vase of mind and mind’s dependencies
And pain lost otherwise and lost in this.
The voice of the Lord opens the gates of day.
Air streams through our eyes and brushes the pupils
Streams through our eyes and this is how we see.
