For The Time Being

 

In yesterday's sermon my senior pastor, David Miller, outdid himself poetry-wise.  He quoted both Dr. Seuss and W. H. Auden.

W. H. Auden was a Pulitzer Prize winning, leading literary influencer of the 20th century.  Like Dr. Seuss he dealt with heavy subjects, but unlike Dr. Seuss he didn't make it easy for us (by "us" I mean me.)  Just try reading one of his 50 page epics. And he tackled the hard stuff.  

He, along with Christopher Isherwood, wrote Goodbye to Berlin which inspired  Cabaret,  the dark musical that showed us the decadent underbelly of Germany that opened the door for Hitler. 

The last stanza of Auden's poem The More Loving One helps me cope with our current crazy situation, especially the last line. I've found that, with a little time I can get used to a bunch of things  - including things I should not be getting used to.  

Were all the stars to disappear or die,     I should learn to look at an empty sky                                                                                           And feel its total dark sublime,      Though this might take me a little time. 

Auden's best known poem - because it was featured in the film Four Marriages and a Funeral - puts our fresh suffering into words when we are too bereft to do it ourselves.  As you know, I have been in this place and my guess is so have you. 

                                                                                                                                                                             Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,                                                                                       Silence the pianos and with muffled drum                                                                                                 Bring out the coffin, let the mourners com.  

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead                                                                                               Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,                                                                                               Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,                                                                        Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

He was my North, my South, my East and West,                                                                                        My working week and my Sunday rest,                                                                                                      My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;                                                                                                        I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;                                                                                   Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;                                                                                               Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;                                                                                                For nothing now can ever come to any good. 

W H Auden

Yesterday morning David Miller quoted  the last line from Auden's poem, For The Time Being. It's about the real meaning of Christmas.

Everything became a You and nothing was an it.

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