Today I invite you to read a poem. It was written nearly 400 years ago by the Church of England priest, George Herbert. Not many people read him these days. The language is as old as the King James Bible, and it comes from someone who had served the King and court, but who chose to be a country parson rather than a royal diplomat.
One of my treasured books is an early Victorian edition of the poems of George Herbert (1863). I was given it for my 40th birthday by my good friend Kate. She was a passionate teacher of English literature to generations of Open University students, adult literacy classes, and anyone within earshot who wanted to learn the beauty and power of our language. I spoke with one of her students the other day, “She never told me I wrote badly; she always told me how to write better.” (The previous post is the Eulogy prepared for Kate's funeral)
Reading a poem takes time, and patience, and a willingness to be spoken to in the deep places. Many of our best loved hymns are poems, set to music. Words are one of the important ways that God speaks to us, guides and comforts us, and leads us into truths that change us. So here is Herbert’s poem:
LOVE
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked anything.
"A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here":
Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
"Who made the eyes but I?"
"Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
"My dear, then I will serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."
So I did sit and eat.
LOVE is the name Herbert gives to the Christ. In this poem Herbert imagines the conversation between Christ and our hearts every time we come to the Communion table. As sinners we don’t feel worthy. Our guilt gets in the way of our joy. We need forgiveness every time. Sin embarrasses us, shame humiliates us, and we wish ourselves away from the One we have wronged.
But, says Herbert, each of us is a guest. 'Quick-eyed Love' sees our reluctance, hears our regret and knows our guilt, and reminds us 'who bore the blame'. That’s why I read this poem from time to time at our Communion services. It's a reminder that we are guests, that Christ is the one who issues the invitations, waits to welcome us, and says who is worthy.
The time will come when we will be able again to hold Communion services in our churches as openly and freely, without the current health restrictions. It matters so much that we aren’t able to sit alongside each other. We can’t fully enact the fellowship we share in Christ by serving each other and passing bread and wine one to the other.
But Herbert’s poem reminds us of the most important thing: “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst.” Whatever else does or doesn’t happen, it is Jesus’ table, we are his guests, and the living Christ is present.
When we come to the Communion table to share in the Lord’s Supper, Christ the saviour is there. Love bids us welcome. The same generously open invitation shines from the much loved words of the Communion Order of Service:
Come to this table, not because you must but because you may,
not because you are strong, but because you are weak.
Come, not because any goodness of your own gives you a right to come,
but because you need mercy and help.
Come, because you love the Lord a little and would like to love him more.
(The book pictured above is one of the best one volume introductions to Herbert and his poetry.)
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