Introduction
I want to take you for a walk around my spiritual garden. First let
me give you a brief general description.
My garden has a cultivated area, like one of those walled gardens
you find in the grounds of stately homes. In this part of my garden
I try to see that the flowers and the vegetables and the fruit trees
are properly tended and fertilized. I try to follow the teachings
to be found in the Guide to Good Horticulture and put into practice
the wisdom of those renowned gardeners who have gone before me. But
outside the walled garden is an area where cultivated trees and plants
are all jumbled up with wild flowers and untamed undergrowth. I keep
telling myself I really must do something about this area and bring
some sort of order into chaos, but despite the occasional foray I
never seem to manage to get round to making any real impression. In
fact I am ashamed to have to confess that when I start to tackle the
briars and get my arms and legs well and truly lacerated I turn my
back on them and try to pretend they are not there, or at least to
convince myself that the wild part of my garden is exotically attractive
in a romantic kind of way. Mind you, even within the walled garden
the weeds soon spring up if I'm not constantly at them. On the other
hand, I have managed to produce some nice flowers and healthy vegetables
and succulent fruits in due season; in fact the Squire up at the Big
House has complimented me from time to time on the produce of my garden.
So it's not all gloom and doom, all briars and thistles. There are
happy times when the sun shines, the bees are busy, the flowers are
in bloom and the fruits ripen.
As we go along I will explain to you how things alter quite markedly
in my spiritual garden as the seasons change. We'll also have a look
inside my greenhouse and the tool shed, and I'll try to arrange for
you to meet the Squire. He's a wonderful person to work for, full
of wisdom and kindness and encouragement, though he's quite definite
about what he wants and what he doesn't want.
I am sure, dear Reader, you have got the idea by now. The garden
is my soul: the flowers, vegetables and fruits are the different virtues
and blessings; the undergrowth and the weeds are faults, sins and
weaknesses; the Guide to Good Horticulture is the Bible; the Squire
is Jesus Christ, Our Lord.
See you next month. Be sure to have your winter woollies on and bring
a good overcoat and head scarf!
January
MY SPIRITUAL GARDEN IN WINTER
It's winter now in my spiritual garden .The beautiful summer flowers
(those happy times and blessings) are no more than a memory: the annuals
(those one-off blessings unlikely to recur) have long ago been pulled
up and thrown on the bonfire: the perennials look forlorn and lifeless.
I think the frost has done for some of my best hydrangeas and my favourite
apple tree died just before Christmas, like my very dear friend who
died last week. We had shared many happy times together and when I
was ill or feeling depressed he somehow had the knack of making me
laugh and lifting my spirits. But now he's dead and a light has gone
out of my life. Up at the Big House the Squire is away, the blinds
are drawn and the furniture is covered with dust sheets.
There's not much I can do now in my spiritual garden beyond sweeping
up the leaves and doing a bit of hedge trimming. The ground is like
a rock and plant life is dormant. The skies are grey and leaden and
mostly I feel depressed. It is difficult to believe that spring will
come, and last summer seems a long time ago. However, last week we
had a heavy snowfall. It looked so pretty and one evening there was
a glorious red sunset which cast a deep crimson glow across the landscape
which gave me a nice warm feeling and brought back happy childhood
memories. But today it has rained all day. Sometimes I feel like quitting
my job here and moving to the town where life is more comfortable
and not dependent on the weather. But is the grass really greener
on the other side of the fence?
I don't know about you, but in my spiritual life I find that from
time to time I have to suffer a spiritual winter. Some people refer
to the spiritual desert, but there are cold deserts as well as hot
deserts. Life is difficult to sustain in either. In the spiritual
winter God seems to have abandoned me. I find prayer difficult and
meaningless. When I go to church I get nothing out of it, as they
say. I come away feeling as cold inside as the temperature inside
the church froze my outside and as bored with religion in general
as I was by the sermon. Usually at times like this my personal relationships
seem to go awry. I feel more than usually hurt by criticism and find
myself easily irritated by others. Why doesn't God do something about
it and help me? Dash it all, I've done enough for Him over the years!
Perhaps I'll jack it all in. After all, plenty of people seem to get
along all right without God and His religion. I would have more time
to do the things I want and could stop worrying about the commandments
and things like that. I feel like Peter, about to sink beneath the
waves. "Lord, save me. I'm perishing".
But even in the depths of a spiritual winter I know in my heart of
hearts that I could never really be happy without God, however alluring
the bright lights of permissive materialism might appear on a dark
winter's evening. In any case, God usually gives me just enough encouragement
to keep me going, like that glorious sunset over the snow. And then,
when I think about things rationally, past experience tells me that
spring always does follow winter. If I hang on, my Master, my Lord,
my Love (the Squire) will return. "O ye of little faith",
He would say. "Have mercy on me, God, I place all my trust in
You", I must reply.
February
WINTER OCCUPATIONS
Last month I described the winter scene in my spiritual garden. Let's
now go and have a chat in my tool shed. It's a bit warmer in there.
There's a little log fire and I can show you some of my spiritual
tools while we talk.
Even though the frost has made the ground rock-like there are always
things to be done in a garden, most especially a spiritual one. It
is at this time of the year that I give some attention to that wild
area outside the walled garden. It's there, you will remember, that
the briars and weeds have a real hold, those sins and character defects
I find so difficult to shift and alter. To make inroads into the undergrowth
I sharpen the sickle, the shears and the secateurs, I put on my gauntlets
and go to work. When the ground is soft enough I also get busy with
the spade and pickaxe in an effort to root out the worst offenders.
In spiritual terms this means fasting, alms-giving and penances of
various kinds. Different tools for different jobs - horses for courses.
But the winter also provides an opportunity to get away for a break.
We all need a break from time to time. I try to make a short retreat
each year when I can look back over the past season and assess the
mistakes I made, find out where I went wrong, so that looking ahead
I can plan how to make my garden more productive and eliminate more
of the destructive weeds and pests. There are also courses one can
attend which enable one to find out how other gardeners are coping
with the same problems one faces oneself and keep up to date with
biblical scholarship and new ideas of marketing (spreading the Good
News) and encouraging better spiritual growth.
You'll notice over in that corner I've started getting in next season's
stock of fertilizer, and on the shelf above are the packets of seeds
I shall need. It's too early to plant them but one has to get ready.
If you don't have a system for regularly preparing the ground, re-seeding
and developing new growth in a spiritual garden, the weeds quickly
take over and the life of the Spirit is gradually extinguished. And,
of course, plants need nourishment, hence the need for food, water
and fertilizer. The life of the soul needs the food of the Eucharist
and the living water of prayer in the Spirit. Over the years I have
learnt that the same fertilizer and the same amount of water does
not suit all plants alike. I know now more or less what and how much
to give each kind. This attention to the specific needs of individuals
is indispensable in the pastoral ministry. So in my tool rack you
will notice I have several forks and rakes, each with differently
spaced tines, and I have a number of roses for my watering-can and
hose.
Some people who don't understand these things imagine that when I
sit in my shed and huddle over my little fire, like we are doing now,
I'm just idling my time away. In fact it's during these periods of
tranquillity and silence that I do a lot of my thinking and planning.
The monks of old used to refer to it as meditation and prayer. The
townies don't understand things like peace and quiet: they're all
rush and pother. But here in the country things don't change much.
We have to work with nature, you see. And quite often when he's at
home the Squire pops in here and has a chat with me. He understands.
I always look forward to these visits of his. He's so wise and has
such a wide experience that I always gain some new insight and feel
encouraged and happy in his presence. "Praise the Lord".
See you next month - same time, same place!
March
SPRING A-COMETH IN
It's been a long hard winter in my spiritual garden, but Spring does
come eventually. It doesn't always come at the same time each year
in our unpredictable British climate, of course, but it's usually
round about Easter that things start happening. While digging up the
ground ready for planting, with your mind miles away, you find yourself
by an apple tree and notice the first bud peeping through the end
of a twig, laughing at you. Then, as if by magic, everything seems
suddenly to spring to life. Next morning you become more aware of
the bird-song; the plants in the herbaceous border shake off that
dull grey look and put on their bright spring clothes. The wild area
outside the walled garden goes berserk with trees, bushes and brambles
all putting out leaves like mad.
I have suddenly to do a mental about-turn. From feeling dozy and
depressed I have to jump to it. If I don't get the seeds planted and
the seedlings ready in the greenhouse the plants won't fruit at the
right time. I still have some ground to prepare and, of course, my
old sparring-partners, the weeds, are galloping ahead hoping to beat
me to it yet again. There's no time to think about myself and my woes
now. "Tide and time wait for no man". If I don't get cracking
I shall soon be left behind by Mother Nature. She's in a hurry. And
up at the Big House they're getting ready for the Squire's return.
Soon all my blues are gone and I get caught up in the expectancy
and the excitement of it all. God is coming back into my life in a
way I can feel and appreciate. New life is all around me. The birds
are rearing their young in the nests, the first lambs have been born
up at the Home Farm, the trees are covered in their bright green foliage,
there's blossom on the fruit trees, Spring flowers seem to be everywhere.
God is not only definitely in His heaven but He's also mighty busy
down here on earth.
When the Master returns all is well. I feel the warmth of His presence.
I experience new zest in my spiritual life. Now I want to pray. I
am eager to visit His house (the church) now that 'He lives in me
and I in Him'. All those thoughts about leaving Him and going to the
godless city - how stupid can you be! I really ought to have known
better. It's when Spring comes to my spiritual garden that I turn
again to 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;
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.
'God's Grandeur." Gerald Manley Hopkins
April
BEATING THE BOUNDS
Every year round about this time, just before the new season begins,
the Squire gathers his grandchildren and the young people from the
estate at the Big House and takes them on a tour of the grounds. There
used to be an old English custom called "Beating the Bounds".
At this annual ceremony the boys of the town or village were taken
by the parish councillors, led by the Beadle, on a tour of the parish
or town boundary, and at strategic points the boys had their bottoms
beaten so that they would remember where the boundary was and be discouraged
from going outside it. Well, the Squire doesn't beat anybody and the
purpose of his annual tour is somewhat different, but the idea is
the same. He expects people to discipline themselves and to avoid
getting into trouble because they trust him and want to please him,
though it has to be said that even common sense ought to be enough
to make people see the wisdom of following the Squire's advice.
He begins his tour by showing his young retinue all the beauties
of the gardens and the estate and telling them that when they are
free during holiday times they can enjoy themselves to their hearts'
content. Everything that is his is theirs - within certain limitations,
and about these he is very clear and warns that he will be strict.
For instance, there is a large and beautiful lake in the main park.
The young people can swim in it, sail their boats and picnic on the
banks - but a swift stream enters the lake at one end and leaves it
in a strong current over a steep and rocky waterfall at the other.
The latter is extremely dangerous, so no one is to go beyond the 20
yard barrier. Then again there are several lovely woods - but one
is a known haunt of poisonous snakes and must on no account be entered.
The Squire encourages the children to talk to the craftsmen and groundsmen
on the estate and to learn about their work - but no child is ever
to touch a piece of machinery without the express permission of an
adult. The plants and wild life must be respected and the Squire will
be very cross if they are wantonly damaged or destroyed.
So the Squire stakes out the danger areas, not to destroy the children's
enjoyment and spoil their fun, but to protect them and teach them
how to respect his property, to be considerate of other people and
to learn to live at peace with the whole of his creation. He doesn't
call his instructions "commandments" but that is what they
are. And, of course, he expects visitors to observe them too. Unbridled
selfishness, "doing your own thing" without consideration
for other people and their property, not only provokes anger and leads
to unhappiness, but it causes chaos and destroys what is fine and
beautiful. So, having shown his young friends the beauties of this
his 'Garden of Eden', he takes them to each of the danger points and
explains why they are dangerous and to be avoided. Only the foolish
disobey. He has always taught us that God is our Father, who loves
us with an everlasting love, and who restricts us as little as possible,
and then only for our own good.
May
A SPECIAL LADY COMES TO STAY
We always look forward to May on our estate because that is the month
when our Squire's mother arrives to spend the summer with him. I haven't
told you about her yet but she's someone very special. Somehow the
whole place takes on a kind of glow when she's around. In some ways
she reminds me of the Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth - everyone loves
her. She's not at all stuck up and has the knack of being able to
put everyone at their ease, no matter who they are. She is loved especially
by young people. Towards the middle of the month, just about now,
they come up to the Big House and on "The Square" (the big
lawn in front of the house) they erect a maypole and in the evening
they dance and sing for her. Like several events or feasts in the
christian calendar, the maypole originated in a pagan festival, but
the Spring Festival (like the mid-winter festival, now Christmas)
has long been christianised and is now an opportunity for honouring
Our Lady. They prepare all winter for this annual occasion which is
probably the happiest and most carefree event of the whole year. People
come to it from all over the district.
I said that in some ways the Squire's mother reminds me of our Queen
Mother, but she had a much tougher time in her early life. She was
not born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Far from it. She (her name's
Mary, by the way) came from simple country folk and within weeks of
the Squire's birth she, her husband, Joseph, and her baby had to flee
their native land because the dictator who was in power at that time
got it into his head that among the new-born male babies was one who
would one day take his place, so he decided to slaughter the lot.
In exile Joseph managed to scrape a living somehow by doing odd jobs
as a carpenter but he and his family knew all about poverty. Mary
often wondered where the next meal would come from and how she was
going to rear her baby son. Of course, things are different now but
she has never forgotten those hard times and has a very special understanding
of people who are in trouble, any sort of trouble. Even if they have
brought their troubles on themselves they know instinctively that
they can take their problems to her and receive a sympathetic reception.
No one has ever asked her help and been turned away. She somehow manages
to be everyone's mother.
She also has an amazing memory. She knows every family on the estate
and makes sure she visits each one during the summer. She remembers
when their babies were born, if any were ill the last time she called,
and if she feels they are in real trouble she has a quiet word in
the Squire's ear and, as far as I am aware, he's never been known
to refuse a request from her.
But what about my spiritual garden? Well, Mary is a frequent visitor.
When there are no outsiders around she loves to come and find a quiet
corner where she will sit, often for quite a long time, just listening
to the birds, contemplating the beauty of the flowers or the blossom
and praying silently. As a matter of fact she is a floral expert and
much of what I know about flowers (virtues) I have learnt from her.
She knows exactly the colours and the perfume of each, how to raise
even the most delicate and advises me how to mix the colours so that
we are able to produce most beautiful variegated beds. The Squire
is very good on vegetables and fruit which keep us alive but how dull
life would be without flowers!
Often on a May evening, when the sun has gone down below the trees,
I sit on the bench outside my tool shed and thank God for allowing
me to work for Him in His garden and for giving me the consolation
of knowing His Mother, Mary. I recall that lovely prayer of Robert
Southwell who was martyred at Tyburn in 1595:
Greetings, Mary,
God's favour overflows in you
His special friend.
Of all women you are most blessed,
For Jesus, your Son, is truly God's Holy One.
Star of the Sea,
Whisper a word for us now
And in the moment of our greatest need.
Sinners He saves. Amen.
June
THE REAL PURPOSE OF MY SPIRITUAL GARDEN
If you have been joining me these past months in my periodic jaunts
round my spiritual garden you may have gained the impression that
we have a somewhat cosy set-up on our estate and that everything is
rather inward looking and perhaps a bit self-satisfied? Well, if you
have, perhaps that's the way I have presented things, but in fact
you would have been much mistaken.
You may remember that I said on my introductory walk that although
the Squire (Christ, our Lord) is a super person to work for he has
very definite ideas about what he wants and doesn't want. He has always
insisted, for instance, that what we do here is not just for ourselves
but must be for the benefit of the wider community, the villages and
the little market town on our borders, and he places an absolute priority
on giving assistance to the poor, the sick, the lonely and anyone
in trouble, particularly if they are strangers who have come looking
for help. He has converted the old stables into a refuge where someone
without shelter can get a free bed for the night, and every morning
he provides a free hot meal for people on the road. If any who turn
up at the refuge are obviously sick he takes them into the Big House
and sees that they are properly cared for until they are better. He
always talks to those who call and if he finds someone who has no
work and no home, but who genuinely wants to work, he does his best
to find them a job. If there are no vacancies on his own estate he
will try all his friends. Sometimes he will create a job, if there
is no other solution, so that he can help a person over a bad patch
by giving them a wage instead of a charitable handout, thereby enabling
them to retain their human dignity.
As for the produce from my garden, some of it goes to the Big House
and the staff, some to the refuge, but quite a lot is taken round
the villages and sold at very low prices to people who have fallen
on hard times. We all know that if it ever came to it, and there was
a major shortage of food, the Squire would see to it that the poor
and the sick got enough for their needs even if that meant us going
without. Whenever he engages a new member of staff he makes it perfectly
clear that he sees his role and that of his estate as serving the
local community. His basic rule for all of us is that we must love
our neighbours as ourselves, and that means making sure that other
people are cared for before we start feathering our own nests. In
all of this the Squire takes his full part and sets us a fine example.
In consequence of this philosophy the Squire shares his possessions.
I mentioned during our last walk that the Squire's mother, Mary, is
an expert where flowers (virtues) are concerned. Amongst other things
she has an unerring eye for colour and artistic floral arrangements.
Working by her advice we usually manage to produce each year flower
beds and borders which are a riot of colour and people come from all
around to see them. The Squire welcomes visitors, believing that the
beautiful things of nature are his father's (God's) gift to all people
and are not just for himself and his friends. Hence he has resisted
pressure to charge an entrance fee. Other estate owners think he is
a fool, and inevitably there are some visitors each year who take
advantage of him and abuse his generosity, but he refuses to alter
his policy. By and large the example of his kindness and liberality
does far more good than the vandals do harm. He's no absentee landlord,
you see. He is always around looking after his guests and the many
people who thus meet him are in some way changed for the better by
the magnetic effect of his personality. It's not so much what he says,
it's just being in his presence which makes all the difference.
So I hope you will be able to appreciate that, as a community, we
are outward looking and we all try to follow our Squire's lead. I
have to admit that I find it difficult sometimes to keep my patience
when visitors get in the way of what I am doing in my garden, and
I am afraid I cannot equal the Squire when it comes to forgiving the
person who picks some of my choicest flowers or vandalises one of
my precious fruit trees. But at least I try, and as a community we
are trying to care for those in need. We are aware that cosy self-preservation
ought not to be the purpose of our labours.
July
THE IMPORTANCE OF "CHOOSING THE BETTER PART"
July is a busy and exciting month in my spiritual garden. The summer
flowers are in full bloom, the vegetables are cropping, the early
fruits are ready and the later ones filling out on the trees. We are
at full stretch keeping everything in order. Besides starting to gather
the fruits of our earlier labours we have to keep the weeds down,
try to control the pests which attack our plants and, of course, we
have lots of visitors to cope with, especially once the school holidays
start. It's all go, go, go.
In my earlier years in the spiritual garden I used to like all the
activity and throve on the hard manual work involved. I was fit and
eager. It was only when I was promoted to under-gardener and assumed
responsibility for certain parts of the garden that I came to realize
that activity of itself does not ensure a good garden nor make it
produce what the Squire (Christ our Lord) wants from it. The successful
gardener, I came to discover, is the one who finds time to ponder
and observe, who learns from past mistakes and plans ahead for future
seasons. Successful gardeners know their plants and what each needs
to grow to best advantage; they have studied the weather and know
how to respond to differing conditions. Moreover, they know how to
deal with all manner of weeds and pests. Of equal importance is man
management - the ability to work harmoniously with bosses, colleagues
and visitors.
As I have suggested before, the spiritual life has a lot in common
with gardening. If we are not careful activity can become a substitute
for holiness. It is possible to spend every minute of our waking lives
attending committee meetings, counselling those in trouble, organising
church services and parish programmes, singing in the choir, running
fetes and engaging in all manner of charitable works, but leaving
no time for prayer and silent contemplation. In fact we can come to
believe that the maintenance of God's kingdom depends on our own efforts
and that we are indispensable. Apart from the fact that this is the
surest way to a nervous breakdown, it is a bit of an insult to God,
implying that it is He who can be dispensed with; He can leave it
all to us. This mental attitude results from a fundamental misunderstanding
of the christian faith. We depend on God far more than He depends
on us. If we don't give Him the opportunity to guide us and bless
our work we are like a car roaring down the road without a driver.
We may be very capable and energetic in human terms, but the Kingdom
of God far transcends human affairs and only the power of the Holy
Spirit is adequate in the spiritual garden.
This may all seem very obvious and eminently sensible but the 'activity
trap' is such an easy one to fall into. Many a parish priest and parish
worker has discovered this to their cost. This is not to say that
we can just sit back and let God get on with it (sloth is among the
deadly sins); in His humility and His desire to be one with us He
has ordained that the work of His kingdom needs our co-operation.
But there is a necessary balance between activity and prayer. Down
the ages all truly holy people have realized and understood this.
Jesus Himself pointed to it in His famous remark at the house of Martha
and Mary - "Martha, Martha, you worry and fret about so many
things, and yet few are needed. It is Mary who has chosen the better
part; it is not to be taken from her." Prayer, contemplation
and meditation on the scriptures are essential elements in the following
of Christ. Men and women who at different times have founded congregations
or religious orders nearly all wrote a rule of life to ensure that
their followers would keep a balance between spirituality and activity.
If the spiritual element is allowed to falter history proves that
the congregation or order begins to decline and may ultimately become
so corrupt that it dies. These examples should serve as a warning
to us. Activity without spirituality is like a building which has
an impressive facade but nothing behind it. When the wind blows and
the earth shakes it quickly collapses into a heap of rubble.
August
A COUNTRYMAN’S SPIRITUAL SUMMER
August is the month of harvest and holiday; the month of maturity
and fullness; the month when those who work on the land gather
in the fruits of their labours and those who work in towns try
to ‘get away from it all’ and relax with their families
and friends in unaccustomed pastures. Harvest, pastures, holidays
- I am reminded every year of the summer holidays I spent as a
lad on a farm deep in the countryside on the border between Worcestershire
and Gloucestershire. In those days (before World War II) there
were parts of England where there was no distant roar of traffic
and in the part where I went there were no tractors either; the
farms still used heavy horses. A passing aeroplane was a rarity
and transistor radios and ‘ghetto-blasters’ had not
been invented. The only sounds were those of the farm at work and
the wild life. In the evenings only the wild life.
I remember warm balmy Sunday afternoons when, lying among the grasses
in a meadow near the top of a bank with the leaves of a tree fluttering
occasionally on an overhanging branch, I watched the cows grazing
and listened to the birds, many different kinds of bird. I soaked
up the English countryside right into my innermost consciousness.
I recall lying, weary, against a stook of corn during the midday
break in the harvest field with a couple of horses next to me enjoying
their nosebags and lazily swishing their tails to keep the flies
at bay. Occasionally one would stamp his foot. It is the smells I
remember so clearly - horse sweat, freshly cut corn, the scent of
wild flowers. Streams were not polluted then. You could pick watercress
and eat it and cup the cold clear water in your hands and drink it
quite safely.
It was in those days that I pondered the meaning of it all. There
was time to ponder then, and in the evenings to talk and discuss
with country folk (there was no TV and only farm owners had a car;
the rest of us walked or went on bikes, so our roaming was restricted).
Like Wordsworth I had “Intimations of Immortality” which
later I lost as the hurly-burly of adult life swept me away in its
flood.
There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,
The earth, and every common sight, to me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream......
Whither is it fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now. the glory and the dream?......
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy............
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
(“Intimations of Immortality
from Recollections of Early Childhood”
by William Wordsworth)
But those who have faith in Jesus and His vision do not share Wordsworth’s
pantheistic pessimism. It is perfectly possible in adulthood to rediscover
that “first fine careless rapture” of childhood, though
now no longer so naive and simplistic as once it was, but deeper
and richer, more mature, more comprehending. Last month I drew attention
to the need for recollection, quiet and meditation in the spiritual
garden. In August, because the vegetables, fruit and flowers have
come full term, there is not so much to be done, so I can usually
find time to sit in a quiet corner of my garden and just watch and
listen and pray. As I watch a flock of rooks wheeling in a summer
thermal, or a hawk hovering in the shimmering sky, I recall again
that evocative poem of Gerard Manley Hopkins which he called “The
Windhover”:
I caught this morning morning’s minion, king-
dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his
riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstacy! then off, off forth on swing.
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and
gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird - the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!
(The Windhover:
to Christ our Lord - by Gerald Manley Hopkins)
O God, my friend, my lover, my master, my Squire, how wonderful
You are ! You are Creator, Supreme Artist. How complex and yet how
simple is Your creative work, from the exquisite cameo to the vast
canvas! Your world is full of marvels and delights - “the achieve
of, the mastery of the thing”! We praise You and thank You,
and ask that we may conform to Your designs for each one of us and
be faithful to the parts You have scripted for us so that we may
enhance Your creation and not spoil it by our wilfulness, our selfishness
or our refusal to be bidden by You, our loving Father, who longs
only for what is best for us.
September
A TIME FOR THANKSGIVING
Season of mists and me/low fruiffulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cells.
(“To Autumn” - by John Keats)
Thus wrote John Keats. Although in September there can be an Indian
Summer, a late period of warm weather which can cheat plants into
a final burst of activity, on most farms and gardens the harvest
has been gathered in and at some point in the month people assemble
for a party at which to reminisce about the season just past before
battening down the hatches for the winter. September is the month
of harvest festivals. In days gone by in every village and market
town a central feature of the harvest festival was a service of thanksgiving
in the local church. This custom is still observed in many places
although the local community may now no longer have any real connection
with the land, and fewer people attend.
On our estate the ‘Squire’ has always made a particular
feature of the harvest festival. He has a closeness with his Father
in heaven which surpasses any human relationship. He often mentions
his Father and tries to make us understand that all good things come
from Him, indeed that his Father is the Creator of all things, inanimate
as well as animate. Hence the importance the Squire attaches to the
giving of thanks. He has taught us to appreciate the kindnesses we
receive from others and not to take for granted the good things of
life.
I fear we live in an age when many people do take things for granted
and too easily grumble when they are deprived (even temporarily)
of what they have been used to or what they think they are entitled
to. Compared to the poverty endured by people in other parts of the
world ours is a land ‘flowing with milk and honey’, and
yet how easily we are dissatisfied and begin to grumble. Sometimes
the ‘Squire’ reminds us of what his Father had to put
up with from His ‘Chosen People’ who frequently forgot
all He had done for them and instantly blamed Him when things went
wrong. Nothing hurts our ‘Squire’ more than ingratitude
among his own folk.
If this had been done by an enemy
I could bear his taunts.
If a rival had risen against me,
I could hide from him.
But it is you, my own companion,
My intimate friend.
How close was the friendship between us.!
We walked together in harmony
In the house of God. (Psalm 55)
Each day before I start work in my Spiritual Garden I try to remember
all the good things I have had in my life and the happy times I have
enjoyed. I also recall the successes I have had in my garden. I give
thanks for all these things. I find this puts the coming day into
perspective and helps me to cope when things go wrong. At the day’s
end when I have shut my shed and am wending my way home I go briefly
over the day in my mind. Even if it’s been a bad day I can
always find at least something to be thankful for. After all I know
that the Squire and his Mother love me and that his Father in heaven
cares for me even if no one else seems to! Perhaps there is no better
prayer with which to end the day than that of our own St Richard:
Thanks be to you, my Lord Jesus Christ,
For all the benefits which you have given me,
For all the pains and insults which you have borne for me.
O most merciful Redeemer, Friend and Brother,
May I know you more clearly,
Love you more dearly,
And follow you more nearly.
October
THE AUTUMN OF LIFE
By October, in my Spiritual Garden, Nature is going into retirement.
The annuals have faded and are dying off; in the perennials the sap
is draining back into the roots. The deciduous trees are showering
their golden leaves over beds, lawns and paths alike in indiscriminate
profusion. Many plants are dropping their seeds so that some at least
will germinate and continue the species into another generation.
All around there are signs of ageing. Mother Nature is withdrawing
into hibernation so as to survive another winter. Yet one more life-cycle
is ending.
As I gather up the leaves in my spiritual garden and generally tidy
up at the season’s end I reflect that I am myself subject to
this natural life-cycle. The spring and summer of my own life are
over and I am now in the autumn of life. I am in what nowadays they
call the ‘Third Age’. Experts in the field of anthropology
tell us that there are four ages in the human life-cycle. The ‘First
Age’ is a period of dependence when, as children, we need our
parents and other adults if we are to survive and grow. The ‘Second
Age’ is a period of independence when, as adults, we belong
to the productive community. The ‘Third Age’ is the time
when we have retired from our principal careers but are sufficiently
healthy to retain our independence and can continue to make at least
some contribution to the well-being of society. The ‘Fourth
Age’ is like the ‘First’, a phase of dependence
when, because of senility or ill health, we have to rely on others
to keep us alive.
Some people fear retirement. They cannot accustom themselves to
having left the activity and excitement of their working careers;
they feel cut off and lonely. Others look forward to retirement as
an opportunity to do the things they have always wanted to do but
have never had the time. As with many other things, much in retirement
depends on our mental attitude. Most of us have to accept a reduced
income (in some cases very much reduced!) and, if we are wise, we
realize that our bodies require us gradually to slow down the pace
of life. But for some, retirement never comes, or only very late
in life. For instance, children, themselves of normal retirement
age, who still have elderly parents to care for; wives caring for
disabled husbands or husbands for disabled wives; parents, long past
retirement age, caring for mentally handicapped children; grandparents
caring for grandchildren whose parents have died or abandoned them.
These are the heroes of the ‘Third Age’ whose charity
and whose contribution to society often goes unrecognized and unsung
by the rest of us, though not by God.
As I stand in my Spiritual Garden I find the autumn has a richness
and a beauty all its own. The colours are not as bright as in spring
or summer, and the bursting energy is not there, but the golden tints
of the leaves and the occasional golden sunsets in the West give
me a feeling of comfort and satisfaction no other season provides
and leads me to a longing for my heavenly home, without the fear
which once accompanied thoughts of departure (death). Sometimes when
the Squire comes to have a look around my Spiritual Garden we talk
of his Father’s house (heaven). He tells me about the many
rooms in it, one of which is being kept for me. “Do not let
your hearts be troubled. Trust in God still, and trust in me. There
are many rooms in my Father’s house; if there were not, I should
have told you. I am going now to prepare a place for you, and after
I have gone and prepared you a place, I shall return to take you
with me; so that where I am you may be too.” (John 14: 1-4).
He makes it sound so attractive and I begin to prepare, not just
for the winter, but for my eventual departure to another land. In
days gone by when a bishop was moved from one bishopric to another
they used the word ‘translation’. I like that word. It
suggests an ease of transfer, something in the natural order of things.
That’s how I think of death: not something traumatic to be
dreaded, but a perfectly normal progression from one home to another,
from one world to another. Having moved house 27 times in the course
of my married life, what’s so remarkable about one more move!
In the meantime there is still plenty to be done in my Spiritual
Garden.
November
NOVEMBER’S SILVER LINING
In November autumn gives way to winter once more. Gardens enter the
period of hibernation and on the surface at least life seems to
have stopped. Those of you who have visited my spiritual garden
regularly since January will realize that we have nearly come full
circle - from winter back to winter.
November is also the month when Roman Catholics remember their dead.
They pray for the Holy Souls. Our Church divides Christ’s followers
into three categories: the Church Militant (those on earth engaged
in the battle of life), the Church Suffering (those who have died
but have not yet been admitted to God’s presence) and the Church
Triumphant (those who have begun an eternity of happiness in the
fellowship of God and His angels). I know that not all christians
share the Roman Catholic belief in a period of cleansing between
earth and heaven (Purgatory) but a word of explanation might help
to dispel some misunderstandings. Perhaps some people are baffled
by Cardinal Newman’s poem “The Dream of Gerontius” set
to such haunting music by Sir Edward Elgar.
If a person steals some property or embezzles a sum of money, he/she
may afterwards be truly sorry and may be truly forgiven by the injured
party, but the matter does not end there. Justice demands that the
erstwhile thief makes every effort to restore the ill-gotten wealth.
We tend to forget that our sins often have long-term consequences.
If I have destroyed a person’s reputation by uncharitable or
spiteful references to their hidden faults, can I be sure that I
can ever fully repair the consequences? The evil that men do lives
after them, said Shakespeare. Scripture says: Nothing unclean can
enter heaven (Rev 2127). So even though a person may die penitent
and forgiven by God so that his place in heaven is assured, there
may yet be need for reparation. Presumably, therefore, a further
cleansing is necessary before the person can enjoy the fullness of
God’s presence. Thus Catholics pray for their deceased loved
ones that, through the merits of Christ’s sufferings and death,
the period of cleansing, or purging (hence ‘Purgatory’)
may be shortened and that they may soon be united with the angels
and saints around the throne of God.
Praying for the dead was a major point of controversy at the Reformation
and I have no wish to revive that controversy now. I have no quarrel
with Christians who believe that at death a person is judged and
goes straight to heaven or hell, but if we are to accept one another
as brothers and sisters in the Lord it can be helpful to know what
we each believe even if on certain points we continue to disagree.
For myself I think of death and bereavement in the context of what
Jesus revealed to us about God’s mercy and unconditional love,
and of the long held christian belief in the Communion of Saints
which is enshrined in the creeds. I think there are very few really
evil people (though undoubtedly there are some) who consciously and
deliberately, with full knowledge of what they are doing, hate God
and would destroy everything connected with Him if they could. The
sins which most of us commit are due to human weakness and fallibility
in one form or another. Jesus made it very clear that his Father
longs for the return of the prodigal and I suspect that everyone,
believer or not, when at the gates of death is given an opportunity
to apprehend the truth, and that few refuse God’s loving offer
of forgiveness. Surely, too, the whole court of heaven must be praying
that no soul will be lost, because God’s Son gave His life
for the redemption of the whole world.
To mourn and weep at the loss of a dear one is a natural human response
(Jesus wept for His friend Lazarus), but I believe the Communion
of Saints embraces us all and that one day we shall all be united
in heaven as members of one family, freed from all the weaknesses
which bedevil our relationships on earth, and purged of all our sins.
I have no doubt that after my death I shall be reunited with my relatives
and friends who have gone before me. At last I shall be shown to
that room which is being kept for me in my Father’s house.
So November, far from being a gloomy month, is for me a time of great
hope and expectancy.
December
A VERY SPECIAL BIRTHDAY
The yearly cycle of the seasons would not be complete in any christian
country, and especially in any spiritual garden, without Christmas
- our Squire’s birthday. Of all the times of the year Christmas
is the time for home-coming and home-making: the time of love,
of hearth and warmth and good cheer. Even the garden tries to join
in. There are scarlet berries on the holly and white berries on
the mistletoe. There are winter roses and winter pansies. Even
when our spiritual lives are dull and wintry and depressing and
we feel spiritually dead, we shall find, if we look hard enough,
that there are little virtues and graces growing on our spiritual
plants and peeping out at us from beneath the snow-covered leaves
to remind us that God hasn’t forgotten us and is there all
the time. In “the bleak mid winter” He comes to enlighten
and enliven the greyness of our lives in the most appealing and
most vulnerable of forms - that of a little baby.
Innocence has an appeal all its own. It is not just that anything
new has a pristine look and feel about it, whether it be the young
of a living species (a baby, a lamb, a chick, for instance) or even
a material object (a house, a car, a dress), but it is the knowledge
that this person, this animal, this object is unsullied and has not
yet been damaged by the buffeting, the wear and tear, and the dirt
of usage. This is in fact (whether realized or not) a recognition
that the biblical story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden contains
a profound truth - that the created world as conceived by God is
perfect but that it is often sullied and damaged by sin. There is
a wilfulness and potential cruelty in all of us, the most intelligent
of the living creatures on the earth, which, if not controlled, can
destroy for ourselves and others so many of the good things God has
provided for us during our mortal pilgrimage. Jesus impressed on
his disciples the obligation of adults to guard the innocence of
children. His condemnation of those who scandalize children was uncompromising.
Innocence is not the same as inexperience. ‘Innocence’ means ‘without
guilt’. It is possible to be experienced yet innocent, as indeed
was Jesus himself. In the Christmas festivities at the big house
the Squire invites all the estate workers and their families, and
all the homeless and lonely who come to the door, to join him and
his Mother and the angelic visitors who come from his Father’s
house. This is earth joined to heaven, and the love of God made visible.
Of course, this foretaste of heaven cannot last because it is only
a foretaste; the reality of the cold wintry world outside remains.
Nevertheless this mid-winter interlude warms the hearts and strengthens
the spirits of all who take part and enter into the innocent festivities
which the Squire provides. His friends enter the new year with optimism
and joy in their hearts. “All is well: all manner of things
is well.”
To conclude this little walk around my ‘Spiritual Garden’ I
invite you to join me in thanking and praising God for all the blessings
He has given me, and I am sure to you too. The life cycle in the
Spiritual Garden continues and I am content to leave the Garden’s
future in the hands of those who will come after me. No doubt they
will make it more productive than I have. I shall, I hope, look down
from heaven and rejoice in their progress. May God bless them, and
you dear Reader, through the merits of Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
