St. Bernard: Poetry as Prose - Prose as Poetry

 At times the writings of St. Bernard can be dense with theological significance. When reading the English translations of his work there is a sense that even the translator is uncertain of the meanings St. Bernard wished to convey. At other times the prose, translated to English, flows so well one can easily appreciate its poetic qualities. One such example is in his book, The Steps of Humility and Pride, Section VIII:21*. When reading the prose it cannot be helped but to notice the lyrical and musical phrasing. 

At the risk of exposing my lack of poetic acumen, I've taken the liberty to versify a portion of this paragraph. The footnotes to the text have been omitted for clarity, but the last stanza exudes the ambiance of the Song of Songs. 

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The Son of God, the Word and Wisdom of the Father, 

Mercifully assumed to himself human reason, the first of our powers.

He found it oppressed by the flesh, Held captive by sin, blinded by ignorance.

Distracted by outward things. He raised it by his might, taught it by his wisdom,

Drew it to things interior.

 

More wonderfully still, he delegated to it His own power of Judge.

To judge is the proper act of Truth and in this it shared, 

When out of reverence for the Word to which it is joined

It became accuser, witness and judge against itself.

 

Humility had been born from the union of the Word with human reason.

Then the Holy Spirit lovingly visited the second power, the will;

He found it rotten with the infection of the flesh,

But already judged by reason.

 

Gently he cleansed it, made it burn with affection,

Made it merciful until, like a skin made pliable by oil

It would spread abroad the heavenly oil of love even to its enemies.

The union of the Holy Spirit with the human will give[s] birth to charity.

 

See how this perfect soul, its two powers, The reason and the will,

Without spot and wrinkle, the reason instructed by the Word of Truth,

The will inflamed by Truth’s Spirit; sprinkled with the hyssop of humility,

Fired with the flame of charity; cleansed from spot by humility,

smoothed of wrinkle by charity; the reason never shrinking from the truth,

the will never striving against reason.

 

And this blessed soul the Father binds to himself as his own glorious bride.  

Now reason is no longer preoccupied with itself  and the will is no longer concerned with other men;

For this blessed soul all is lost in one delight: “The King has led me into his chamber.”

She learned humility in the school of the Son; she was led by the Holy Spirit

From the school of humility to the storehouse of charity.

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*THE STEPS OF HUMILITY AND PRIDE, CISTERTIAN PUBLICATIONS INC., 1973

A Praying Servant

From the January 2020 edition of First Things

LITANY

For the fire that answers the covering dark,
For every marriage that ends in faith,
For the hand that finds desired work,
And for every reconciled death,

We bless you, O Lord, and we ask that
             we may be added to their number.

For the wall that answers wind’s assault,
For every roof that withstands weather,
For the level and square and the justly built,
And for long lives that have kept their savor,

We bless you, O Lord, and we ask that
        we may be added to their number.

For the hour that we have squandered,
       Have mercy on us.
For the hour we have begrudged,
       Have mercy on us.
For the good that we have coveted,
       Have mercy on us.
And for the good we have neglected,
       Have mercy on us.

For the day lived with its end in mind
And for the remembrance of such a day,
For the losing race, run to its end,
For the blue sky and the night sky,

We bless you, O Lord, and we ask that
       we may be added to their number.

—Timothy Dusenbury

Reading the Mystics

I am sure many other Christians have had the same urge as I have had. The urge, after some brief glimpse of the work of a mystic, a desire to read more. So we procure a book or treatise by the mystic only to find much of their writings dense and incomprehensible.

In May I ran across a poem by author-poet Scott Cairns a Professor at the University of Missouri. The poem was in an anthology, Francis and Clare in poetry. (See post of May 9) I found the poem to be quite moving and so sought out more of Professor Cairns work. I obtained a copy of his book Endless Life poems of the mystics and discovered in it the answer to approaching the mystics with understanding and an appreciation of the beauty of their thoughts. He has taken the prose writings of thirty seven mystics and rendered into verse a sampling of their reflections. Professor Cairn’s poetic style is easy and beautiful and transmits the musings of the mystics in very readable verse. Check it out. I offer a sample of his poetry based on the writings of St. Melito of Sardis.

How It Was

The earth trembled; its foundations

shook like silt; the sun, chagrined,

fled the scene, and every mundane

element scattered in retreat. The day

became the night: for light could not endure

the image of the Master hanging on a tree.

All creation was astonished, perplexed

and stammering, What new mystery is this?

The Judge is judged, and yet He holds His peace;

the Invisible One is utterly exposed, and yet

is not ashamed; the Incomprehensible is grasped,

and will not turn indignant; the Immensity

is circumscribed, and acquiesces; the absolutely

Unattainable suffers, and yet does not avenge;

the Immortal dies, and utters not a word;

the Celestial is pressed into the earthen grave,

and He endures! What new mystery is this?

The whole creation, I say, was astonished;

but, when our Lord stood up in Hades –

trampling death underfoot, subduing

the strong one, setting every captive free –

then all creation saw clearly that for its sake

the Judge was condemned, et cetera.

For our Lord, even when He deigned

to be born, was condemned in order

that He might show mercy, was bound

that He might loose, was seized

that He might release, suffered

that He might show compassion, died

that He might give life, was laid in the grave

that He might rise, might raise.

A Miner's Discovery

It has been a while since my last post. The last year has been busy. Hip replacement and cancer diagnosis ... prostate. There has been some good stuff. Two trips to California to visit my 97 year old mother who continues to defy old age's persistent attempts to debilitate. I should have imitated her more closely. I've also completed a two year study in spiritual direction that has provided me with the needed skills to help others progress in their personal spiritual life.

In my final days of study at the retreat center I came across a nice little book of poetry. It seems as though most of the meaningful things in my life happen accidentally. This volume of poetry about Francis and Clare is one of these accidental discoveries. I find reading poetry to be a search. Many poems are difficult to read and understand. If understood, they may not be particularly meaningful. So, when one does stand out above the others I feel like a miner panning for gold who just discovered a huge nugget. I want to read it to everyone I see! So it was in the brief time I spent with Francis and Clare in poetry, edited by Janet McCann and David Craig. I offer a poem that I felt to be one of those gold nuggets.

THE LEPER'S RETURN
          ---- a gift of St. Francis

He had grown used to the fear he carried
to the hearts of all he passed along the road.
And the chagrin he bore inside became

a bitterness far worse than the fetid taste
that never left his mouth. He could not bear
to stay near town for long, nor could he ever

walk far enough away. His days were marked
in varied degrees of suffering, varied
degrees of shame. So when he saw the young man,

trembling, stand awaiting him in the road ahead,
the leper felt the weight of his long burden briefly
lift, and when the young man rushed to embrace him,

the leper startled to the fact of his own body
gently held, and held in firm, benevolent
esteem, and when he felt the kiss across

his ruined cheek, he found forgotten light
returning to his eyes, and looked to meet
the brother light approaching from the young man's

beaming face. Each man blessed the other
with this light that then became the way
that each might travel every road thereafter.

----- Scott Cairns