Tag Archives: George Herbert

Come to the Launch of Waiting on the Word

Waiting on the Word

I am happy to announce that my new book Waiting On The Word is published by Canterbury Press this coming Monday. It is a companion volume to ‘The Word in the Wilderness’, my anthology of poetry for Lent, Holy Week and Easter, so if you enjoyed that I hope you will enjoy this. Waiting on the Word gives you a poem, and an opening out and reflection on that poem for every day from Advent Sunday, through to Christmas and beyond to the feast of Epiphany and the coming of the Wise Men.

Advent is to Christmas what Lent is to Easter, but sadly Advent has been swallowed up in the rush, the busyness and pressure to consume that dominate the Christmas Season. This book offers you the chance to step back and set a little time, about five minutes, each day to awaken your soul and kindle your imagination to prepare for and contemplate the great and joyful mystery which Christmas celebrates. I have chosen great poems from the past, by poets like Christina Rosetti, George Herbert, and Edmund Spenser, but I have also included some wonderful poems by distinguished contemporary poets like Scott Cairns and Luci Shaw. I have also included some of my own poems, some which may be familiar, like my sonnets on the Advent Antiphons, and some which are entirely new and have not been published before. After each poem I have written a brief reflection to help readers appreciate the depths of the poem itself and also to offer some thoughts and meditations on what it means to read that poem in our own day and age. I hope you enjoy it.

To launch the book into the world there will be a free event at Otley Hall, the beautiful, but easily accessible Elizabethan moated grange in Suffolk, and I would be glad if any readers of this blog could join me there for wine and cheese, some readings from the book and from my other poems, and a chance to meet and chat, and, if you wish, to buy a signed copy at a discount. Full details are below. For those who cannot make this event I have also listed below the other events between now and Advent at which you will be able to hear me read and buy a copy of the book. The book will of course also be available, from the end of this month, from the Publisher, Canterbury, from Amazon, and to order from your local Bookshop. I will be posting some little extracts from the book on this blog over the course of September and October.

You are invited to the Launch of

Waiting on the Word

an anthology of poems and reflections for

Advent, Christmas and Epiphany

At Otley Hall, Hall Lane, Otley, Ipswich, IP6 9PA

Thursday September 3rd, 6:30-8pm

This free event will include poetry readings, refreshments, and an opportunity to by signed copies at a discount

Contact Events@otleyhall.co.uk for bookings and further details

Otley Hall

Otley Hall

Further events:

Friday 23rd of October 4pm Poetry reading at Sarum College Bookshop

Saturday 28th of November An Advent reflective afternoon with poems from Waiting on the Word at St. George’s Church, Hatley St. George

Sunday 6th December 12:30 ‘Sunday Forum’ at St. Paul’s Cathedral

an introduction to and readings from Waiting on the Word

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Seven Whole Days: A New Poetic Sequence

Let There Be Light

Let There Be Light

Seven whole days, not one in seven

I will praise thee,

In my heart though not in Heaven

I can raise thee    George Herbert

These familiar words of George Herbert’s have inspired me to write a new poetry sequence, a little round of roundels, seven prayer-chants, for the six days of creation and the seventh day of rest. Genesis Chapter One has a beautiful, liturgical antiphonal feel, with its repeated refrains of ‘ and the evening and the morning were..’, and the strong Litany of the great ‘And God said…’ phrases. Reading this chapter always feels more to me like stepping into a rich and mysterious service of worship than reading a plain narrative, and as with each ‘day’ the ‘congregation’ grows, as more is created, so the praise heightens and deepens. One of my ‘fathers in God’, Lancelot Andrewes, began his morning prayer each day of the week with thanksgiving for whatever was created and assigned to that day in Genesis. In what follows I have taken a leaf out of Andrewes book, but also tried to fashion prayers that anyone could use, prayers that could be part of the morning prayer for the day each is set, or prayers that could be gathered together in a single service, perhaps using the days of creation to celebrate God’s goodness in the created order and to deepen our sense of stewardship of the delicate and beautiful world in which he has placed us.

So I shall post one of the prayer-poems in this sequence each day, on the day it is written for, starting on Sunday, for of course, as most Christians will know, Sunday is the first day of the week, the day of creation, the day of resurrection, the new creation. It became for Christians ‘The Lord’s Day’, but in the book of Genesis Saturday is the seventh day, the Sabbath of the Lord. Each day I will give you the verses from Genesis to which my poem is a prayerful response and then the poem itself. So here is today’s poem, as always you can hear me read it by clicking on the ‘play’ button or on the Roman Numeral which is its title.

These poems will be gathered together with others in ‘Parable and Paradox’ my next book of poetry, to be published by Canterbury Press in the summer of 2016

 

Seven Whole Days

 

Seven whole days, not one in seven,

I will praise thee   George Herbert

 

 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.

And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.

I

Let there be light as I begin this day

To draw me from the darkness and the night,

To bless my flesh, to clear and show my way

Let there be light

 

Strong in the depth and shining from the height,

Evening  and morning’s interplay,

Blessing and enabling my sight.

 

Lighten my soul and teach me how to pray,

Lighten my mind and teach me wrong from right,

In all I do and think and see and say

Let there be light.

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My sermon series: ‘To Be A Pilgrim’

chaucerDuring this last Lent Term I preached a series of seven sermons at Girton College, exploring the theme of pilgrimage, first in scripture and then in the writings of Dante, Chaucer, Raleigh, Herbert, Bunyan, and CS Lewis. These are now up on the college website as audio clips you can listen to onsite or download for later listening. Here are links to all seven.
Unfortunately the final one o Lewis is cut off about half way through as the recorder stopped functioning or ran out of space. But you will probably see where I was going with is

This collection contains 7 media items.

Media items

A journey through the wilderness: Lent and the tradition of pilgrimage

Sunday 18 January: Choral Evensong Speaker: Revd Dr Malcolm Guite. Title: A journey through the wilderness: lent and the tradition of pilgrimage

CollectionGirton College Chapel Sermons; To be a Pilgrim

InstitutionGirton College

Created: Wed 4 Mar 2015

Dante: Through Hell to Heaven

   0 views

Sunday 25 January: Choral Evensong Speaker: Revd Dr Malcolm Guite. Title: Dante: Through Hell to Heaven

CollectionGirton College Chapel Sermons; To be a Pilgrim

InstitutionGirton College

Created: Wed 18 Mar 2015

Chaucer: Stories along the way

Sunday 1 February: Choral Evensong Speaker: Revd Dr Malcolm Guite. Title: Chaucer: Stories along the way

CollectionGirton College Chapel Sermons; To be a Pilgrim

InstitutionGirton College

Created: Wed 18 Mar 2015

Special Alumni Service – Raleigh: The Passionate Man’s Pilgrimage

Sunday 8 February: Special Alumni Service, 2.30 p.m. Speaker: Revd Dr Malcolm Guite. Title: Raleigh: The Passionate Man’s Pilgrimage

CollectionGirton College Chapel Sermons; To be a Pilgrim

InstitutionGirton College

Created: Wed 18 Mar 2015

Herbert: Notes on the journey

Sunday 15 February: Choral Evensong Speaker: Revd Dr Malcolm Guite. Title: Herbert: Notes on the journey.

CollectionGirton College Chapel Sermons; To be a Pilgrim

InstitutionGirton College

Created: Wed 18 Mar 2015

Bunyan: To be a pilgrim

Sunday 22 February: Choral Evensong Speaker: Revd Dr Malcolm Guite. Title: Bunyan: To be a pilgrim

CollectionGirton College Chapel Sermons; To be a Pilgrim

InstitutionGirton College

Created: Wed 18 Mar 2015 recording incomplete

CS Lewis: Yearning for the far off country

Sunday 1 March: Choral Evensong Speaker: Revd Dr Malcolm Guite. Title: CS Lewis: Yearning for the far off country

CollectionGirton College Chapel Sermons; To be a Pilgrim

InstitutionGirton College

Created: Wed 18 Mar 2015

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Prayer/Walk

The land's long memory in ridge and furrow

The land’s long memory in ridge and furrow

Here is today’s poem and commentary from my Lent Book The Word in the Wilderness

 
https://audioboom.com/boos/2952243-prayer-walk.mp3
Prayer/Walk   Malcolm Guite

 

A hidden path that starts at a dead end,

Old ways, renewed by walking with a friend,

And crossing places taken hand in hand,

 

The passages where nothing need be said,

With bruised and scented sweetness underfoot

And unexpected birdsong overhead,

 

The sleeping life beneath a dark-mouthed burrow,

The rooted secrets rustling in a hedgerow,

The land’s long memory in ridge and furrow,

 

A track once beaten and now overgrown

With complex textures, every kind of green,

Land- and cloud-scape melting into one,

 

The rich meandering of streams at play,

A setting out to find oneself astray,

And coming home at dusk a different way.

 

Continuing these reflections on the nature of prayer itself, I offer another of my own poems, which, like Gwyneth Lewis’s ‘Homecoming’, is written in direct homage to Herbert’s poem ‘Prayer’. I had come to notice that on retreats it was not always in the ‘offices’ in chapel, but also on walks and rambles in and around retreat house grounds that I found the deepest spiritual renewal and the best prayer. So I decided to write a poem that would be at once a celebration of walking in the countryside and of prayer itself. Every phrase in this poem is, I hope, both an account of what walking is like and an emblem of what prayer is like. As I have done with the previous two poems I will just lift out and open one or two phrases and encourage my readers to do likewise with the rest.

 

A hidden path that starts at a dead end,

 

I have noticed how often interesting footpaths and bridleways start just beyond the brambles at the end of tarmacked roads marked ‘dead end’. And it seemed, for me at least, that is very often where prayer starts too. I am sure that prayer should be a first resort, but for me it is sometimes the last resort when I’ve tried everything else! I’ve also noticed that the places in life where I get stuck and come up as it were against a ‘dead end’ sign, are inevitably the important places, the places where there is real stuff to deal with and that is precisely why I get stuck or find it difficult to move forward. Too often one simply shies away from these personal dead-ends and goes for the first diversion (usually Facebook!) to try something easier. But when I’m walking, the opposite is true. It gives me pleasure to walk down the apparent dead-end and find the hidden path where the cars can’t go, strike out across the fields and leave the traffic behind, so I have tried to apply this to my prayer life. To begin the prayer at one of my personal dead-ends and ask God to open up the path. That technique has had some surprising and beautiful results!

 

The sleeping life beneath a dark-mouthed burrow,

The rooted secrets rustling in a hedgerow,

The land’s long memory in ridge and furrow,

 

You sense, on a good country walk, the hidden richness and depth of everything that is going on around you. You know that what you actually see; the close up path ahead of you, the distant panorama, the occasional sweeping view of wider fields, are only a trace, a hint of what’s really there. Sometimes you suddenly hear the hedgerow rustle or see the tracks of badgers or deer and you realize that you are walking past a whole web of life and exchange of which you are only partly aware. Again, features in the landscape itself suddenly speak of a long history and almost take you there. The ridges and ripples in a field you cross that are remnants of the mediaeval ‘ridge and furrow’ agriculture, where your ancestors toiled on their separate ‘strips’ of soil, divided between the children of a large family. Again it seemed to me that this experience is very true of our prayer life. When we begin to pray we have to start where we are, usually just on the surface of our lives, but there is always so much else going on. We all have a familiar surface to our lives but are there not also, deeper in our psyche, the burrows and dens, where the shyer and more furtive elements of our inner life are rooted and nestling. Might these, half-acknowledged parts of ourselves also be brought to God for blessing, noticed a little and offered to him? Have we not also those longer and deeper memories, perhaps going right back into our family histories, which have, as it were shaped the landscape of who we are? Perhaps prayer, and particularly prayer in Lent might be a time to bring them for blessing and healing to God, for whom all times are present, in whom is the fullness of time.

Perhaps these last two poems, both responding to Herbert’s prayer, might encourage you to make a ‘listing’ poem of your own, filled with the images that have become, or could become, living emblems of your prayer life.

 

If English readers would like to buy my books from a proper bookshop Sarum College Bookshop here in the UK always have it in stock.

I am happy to announce to North American readers that Copies of The Word in the Wilderness are readily available from Steve Bell Here

Here also is a beautiful journal and illustration responding to today’s prayer from Tracey Wiffen whose blog you can find Here

Tracey Wiffen's journal

Tracey Wiffen’s journal

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A Sonnet for George Herbert

George_Herbert

Here is an extract from my book The Word in the Wilderness, marking George Herbert’s Day, February 27th:

Today the Church keeps the memory of George Herbert, who has been so strong a companion with us on our Lenten Journey. Shortly before he died he sent the precious manuscript of his poems to his friend Nicholas Ferrar at ‘Little Gidding’, asking him to publish them only if he thought that they might ‘turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul’, but otherwise to burn them. Fortunately for us Ferrar realized what a treasure he had been given and took them to Cambridge to be published as The Temple. They have been in print ever since, and have turned to the spiritual advantage of countless souls.

This sonnet reflects on a number of Herbert’s poems, but particularly on his master-piece ‘The Flower’. In that poem he imagines himself as a flower, sometimes blossoming sometimes shriveled back to its mother root, but somehow still capable of recovery:

 

Who would have thought my shrivel’d heart

Could have recover’d greennesse? It was gone

Quite under ground; as flowers depart

To see their mother-root, when they have blown;

Where they together

All the hard weather,

Dead to the world, keep house unknown.

 

But, as he goes through these traumas of loss and recovery, an inevitable part of our being in time, he longs, in a beautiful metaphor, to be transplanted at last into the true paradise of heaven:

 

O that I once past changing were;

Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!

 

So my sonnet celebrates the fact that he is now where he longed to be, in the place he had glimpsed ‘through the glass, in The Elixir. The Flower also contains the beautiful and mysterious lines:

 

We say amisse,

This or that is:

Thy word is all, if we could spell.

 

Just as Easter had suggested that there is really only one true day, shining through the ‘three hundred’ so here, in a moment of mystical intuition, Herbert senses that the one Word shines through and undergirds the myriad things we encounter, and I have alluded to that at the conclusion of my sonnet.

If English readers would like to buy my books from a proper bookshop Sarum College Bookshop here in the UK always have it in stock.

I am happy to announce to North American readers that Copies of The Word in the Wilderness are readily available from Steve Bell Here

As always you can hear me read the sonnet by clicking on the title or the ‘play’ button.

George Herbert

Gentle exemplar, help us in our trials,

With all that passed between you and your Lord,

That intimate exchange of frowns and smiles

Which chronicled your love-match with the Word.

Your manuscript, entrusted to a friend,

Has been entrusted now to every soul,

We make a new beginning in your end

And find your broken heart has made us whole.

Time has transplanted you, and you take root,

Past changing in the paradise of Love,

Help me to trace your temple, tune your lute,

And listen for an echo from above,

Open the window, let me hear you sing,

And see the Word with you in everything.

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Ringing in The New Year

bellsOn New Years Eve groups of church bell ringers will gather all over the world to pray, and reflect, and to ring in the new year. They will be participating in a long tradition. George Herbert imagined Prayer itself as ‘Church Bells beyond the stars heard’ and the great turning point in In Memoriam, Tennyson’s great exploration of time and eternity, mortality and resurrection, doubt and faith, comes with the ringing of bells for the new year and his famous and beautiful lines beginning ‘Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,’ and concluding:

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand;

Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ that is to be. (For more of this passage and my talks on Tennyson click Here)

I love to hear church bells ring in the New Year and so I have made my own small contribution to the poetry and meaning of bell ringing in the following sonnet, which is taken from my collection ‘Sounding the Seasons’

Sounding the Seasons and my new book The singing bowl are both available from Amazon or on order from your local bookstore

As always you can hear the sonnet by clicking on the title or pressing the ‘play’ button.

New Year’s Day: Church Bells

 Not the bleak speak of mobile messages,

The soft chime of synthesised reminders,

Not texts, not pagers, data packages,

Not satnav or locators ever find us

As surely, soundly, deeply as these bells

That sound and find and call us all at once

‘Ears of my ears’ can hear, my body feels

This call to prayer that is itself a dance.

So ring  them out in joy and jubilation,

Sound them in sorrow tolling for the lost,

O let them wake the church and rouse the nation,.

A sleeping lion stirred to life at last

Begin again they sing, again begin,

A ring and rhythm answered from within.

The Bell Tower at St. Edward King and Martyr Cambridge

The Bell Tower at St. Edward King and Martyr Cambridge

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A Sonnet for Nicholas Ferrar of Little Gidding, on his feast day

Little Gidding and Nicholas Ferrar's monument

Little Gidding and Nicholas Ferrar’s monument

Nicholas Ferrar

Nicholas Ferrar

The Church of England keeps December 4th as the feast day of Nicholas Ferrar, the devout Anglican who founded the Community of Little Gidding in the early seventeenth century. Ferrar was trying to find a fruitful via media between protestant and catholic understandings of what it is to be Christian. As a member of a reformed church he and his community were devoted to reading the scriptures in their own language, to sharing their faith, and to worshipping together in the beautiful services of the Book of Common Prayer. But he was also keen to preserve and explore the Catholic heritage of community life, the daily offices of prayer, and praise, the pattern of Benedictine work and prayer, rooted in the psalms and the gospels. in holding these together he was recovering and preserving what he called. ‘The right good old way’. His great friend George Herbert, from his death bed sent Ferrar the manuscript of all his poems, and it was Ferrar who published them for all of us. In the 1930s TS Eliot visited Little Gidding, and eventually enshrined the experience of prayer and awareness granted him there, in the poem Little Gidding, the last of the Four Quartets.

Ferrar died on the 4th December 1637, the day after Advent Sunday, at 1 am, the hour he had always risen for prayers, and my sonnet touches on that. Certainly the place in which he and his community kept prayer going at all times, recited the psalms, and lived out their gospel harmony, is still soaked in prayer, still, a place through which the eternal light shimmers into time, still, as the inscription on the chapel says, ‘The very gate of Heaven’.

I would like to dedicate this sonnet to the memory of Susan Gray, who died this April, a friend and parishioner who loved Little Gidding, both the place and the poem. When I took her last communion to her in the Hospice, she spoke the line from Little Gidding ‘In my end is my beginning’.

As always you can hear the poem by clicking on the title or the ‘play’ button.

For Nicholas Ferrar

 

You died the hour you used to rise for prayer.

In that rich hush beneath all other sounds,

You rose at one and took the midnight air

Rising and falling on the wings and rounds

Of psalms and silence. The December stars

Shine clear above the Giddings, promised light

For those who dwell in darkness. Morning stirs

The household. From the folds of sleep, the late

Risers wake to find you gone, and pray

Through pain and grief to bless your journey home;

Those last glad steps in the right good old way

Up to the door where Love will bid you welcome.

Love draws us too, towards your grave and haven

We greet you at the very gate of Heaven.

 

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