Virgil

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday. My work actually had arranged for a priest to come by and at a little chapel on our grounds (which I didn’t even know existed) delivered a full Roman Catholic mass and pressed ashes onto our foreheads. I thought this was really cool. I hadn’t gone to an Ash Wednesday service in years. I decided this was incredibly easy for me, and so I had to attend. The turnout was awesome. The chapel was packed with standing room only and even with that it seemed we couldn’t get more in. There must have been over a hundred people.

Sometimes with all the atheists about on lit net and other forums I get jaded, thinking my God is the whole word losing religion? When I was growing up, no one I knew was an atheist. Not that most people were religious, they weren’t, but if you had to press them they would still acknowledge a belief God. And of the people at the Ash Wednesday mass, a lot were young people, men and women in their 20’s. Perhaps I have gotten jaded.

And so Ash Wednesday is the start of Lent, the beginning of the Easter calendar that leads to the crucifixion. The ashes are made from the palms of the previous Palm Sunday and mixed with some holy water and the mark on the forehead is in the sign of the cross. It represents the dust of which we will all eventually become (Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return.") and symbolically is a petition for personal penance.

With that background, I am going to highlight once again (I think I’ve done this on a previous Ash Wednesday) T.S. Eliot’s marvelous poem titled, “Ash Wednesday,” and now with the background I think people who have puzzled over the poem may understand it better. The poem is divided into six parts and I have highlighted the great second part in the past, one of my favorite poetic passages ever. This time I think I’ll highlight pieces from all six parts.

From I
Because I do not hope to know
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again
(ll . 9-15)

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us
(ll. 26-33)

From II
Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to sateity
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
(ll. 1-13)

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,
Under a tree in the cool of day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.
(ll. 37-43)

From III
At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind
over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.
(ll. 12-22)

From IV
White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word
(ll. 15-24)

From V
If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.
(ll. 1-10)

From VI
Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.
(ll. 25-35)

You can read the entire poem here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ash-wednesday/