Seamus Heaney wrote this poem after he’d had a stroke and found himself being carried by his friends. That’s why he particularly highlights the friends of the paralytic in the biblical miracle of Christ, who removed roof tiles to let him down in the middle of the crowd inside the house, and thereby played a part in the healing that Christ’s accomplishes. The story is in Matthew 9:1-8, which is today’s Gospel reading in the Orthodox Church.
MIRACLE
Not the one who takes up his bed and walks But the ones who have known him all along And carry him in –
Their shoulders numb, the ache and stoop deeplocked In their backs, the stretcher handles Slippery with sweat. And no let up
Until he’s strapped on tight, made tiltable and raised to the tiled roof, then lowered for healing. Be mindful of them as they stand and wait
For the burn of the paid out ropes to cool, Their slight lightheadedness and incredulity To pass, those who had known him all along.
The poem below got me started thinking about mountains and their symbolism. I discovered a very long article on the subject, “The Transfiguration on Mount Tabor: The Symbolism of the Mountain,” which I don’t have time to read deeply, because as I type this draft, I’m in the midst of packing the car for five of us who will be in the mountains together by the time you read my post. I hope the article is not paywalled. It is a treatise on the subject going back millennia, opening with this from René Daumal:
“[The] summit touches the sphere of eternity, and its base branches out in manifold foothills into the world of mortals. It is the path by which humanity can raise itself to the divine and the divine reveals itself to humanity.”
The Transfiguration, Mount Tabor
The author examines traditions throughout the world, beginning in ancient times and concluding with thoughts on what The Mountain means for us Christians who are on a continuum with those 2,000 years ago. Here is one excerpt to help you know if you are interested in the subject from a scholarly perspective :
“In the traditional Hebrew and Christian understanding of the world, places are what they are by their teleology: it is not so much by the material or structural elements that they are recognized, but by their function. Things are what they are because of their purpose and their place in a web of relationships within reality which help create our own map of meanings. Therefore, it is very difficult to understand from a purely geographical (time-space) position where God dwells with regards to this or that mountain. For this reason, many physical mountains have been ‘the mountain of God’. There is only ‘one’, but it’s not confined to one geographical space-time location as we modern people understand it.”
I guess it’s obvious that I myself am interested, and I thought of printing this article to take with me to the high country, but I’m afraid I won’t have time to read it up there, either. My family and I will be too busy playing around our grandfather’s knees.
THE MOUNTAIN
The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—
The Seasons played around his knees Like Children round a sire— Grandfather of the Days is He Of Dawn, the Ancestor—
Good night! good night! — the golden day Has veiled its sunset beam, And twilight’s star its beauteous ray Has mirrored in the stream; — Low voices come from vale and height, And murmur soft, good night! good night!
Good night! — the bee with folded wings Sleeps sweet in honeyed flowers, And far away the night-bird sings In dreamy forest bowers, And slowly fades the western light In deepening shade, — good night! good night!
Good night! good night! — in whispers low The ling’ring zephyr sighs. And softly, in its dreamy flow. The murm’ring brook replies; And, where yon casement still is bright, A softer voice has breathed good-night!
Good night! — as steals the cooling dew Where the young violet lies. E’en so may slumber steal anew To weary human eyes. And softly steep the aching sight In dewy rest — good night! good night!
I was delighted to discover linden trees, Tilia tomentosa, in Thessaloniki last month, and in bloom, smelling so sweet. This month I came across a poem about them.
Linden Tree in Thessaloniki
LINDEN TREE WHISPERS
You know how the linden tree whispers In the springtime, at night, by the light of the moon? My love sleeps, my love sleeps, Let’s go and wake her up, kiss her eyes. My love sleeps . . . You heard because of the way the linden tree whispers.
Do you know how the old grove sleeps? It sees everything, even through the fog. Here is the moon, here are the stars, the nightingales. “I am yours,” overheard the old grove. And those nightingales . . . Well! You already know, how the old grove sleeps!
Seamus Heaney wrote this poem after he’d had a stroke and found himself being carried by his friends. That’s why he particularly highlights the friends of the paralytic in the biblical miracle of Christ, who removed roof tiles to let him down in the middle of the crowd inside the house, and thereby played a part in the healing that Christ’s accomplishes. The story is in Matthew 9:1-8, which is today’s Gospel reading in the Orthodox Church.
