The Growlery

"Sit down, my dear," said Mr. Jarndyce. "This, you must know, is the Growlery.
When I am out of humour, I come and growl here."

Charles Dickens, Bleak House, Chapter VIII

Monday, March 01, 2010

Christ the Companion

Time for another poem from Sayers' Catholic Tales and Christian Songs!





When I've thrown my books aside, being petulant and weary,
And have turned down the gas, and the firelight has sufficed,
When my brain's too stiff for prayer, and too indolent for theory,
Will You come and play with me, big Brother Christ?

Will You slip behind the book-case? Will you stir the window-curtain,
Peeping from the shadow with Your eyes like flame?
Set me staring at the alcove where the flicker's so uncertain,
Then suddenly, at my elbow, leap up, catch me, call my name?

Or take the great arm-chair, help me set the chestnuts roasting,
And tell me quiet stories, while the brown skins pop,
Of wayfarers and merchantmen and tramp of Roman hosting,
And how Joseph dwelt with Mary in the carpenter's shop?

When I drift away in dozing, will You softly light the candles
And touch the piano with Your kind, strong fingers,
Set stern fugues of Bach and stately themes of Handel's
Stalking through the corners where the last disquiet lingers?

And when we say good-night, and You kiss me on the landing,
Will You promise faithfully and make a solemn tryst:
You'll be just at hand if wanted, close by here where we are standing,
And be down in time for breakfast, big Brother Christ?

----

I am always hesitant to add explanations to poems, feeling that they can and ought to stand on their own. However, since it's just possible that you won't recognize the brilliance of the poem on your own, I will be less cryptic than is my wont.

This poem has long been a favorite of mine, but at the moment I find it particularly consoling. Amidst the loneliness and vicissitudes of grad school, it is good to remember that I have an older brother, my companion on the journey, who just happens to also be the firstborn over all creation. I could wax psychological about the burden I often feel being the oldest child and how comforting I find the idea of someone else having all the responsibilities of the firstborn, but I think what I really mean is something like this:

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
Hebrews 4:14-16
But then again, this passage makes it sound more serious than I mean. These verses capture the 'solemn tryst' element, but not the playful, humorous Christ, who comes along when we are most fretful and cheers us.

It's this side of Christ that I think Sayers captures so well. I've been reading her passion plays 'The Man Born to be King' aloud with some friends and so I recognize this Jesus, the one who teases his disciples, laughs at his enemies and greets all of creation with a childlike joy. It's this temperament I desire; the ability to shrug off my cares and just play with Christ. I think the Hebrews passage gives a hint of why this is possible--we can delight in the pleasures of life because of the confidence that we have that Christ, our brother, has already won. We can be joyful and jubilant because he is. He has made it so that there is time for play and rest.

Image credit: Flickr

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