Christian Art | George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Antiphon (1)
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Antiphon (1)
Chorus
Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
My God and King.
Verse
The heav’ns are not too high,
His praise may thither flie:
The earth is not too low,
His praises there may grow.
Chorus
Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
My God and King.
Verse
The church with psalms must shout
No doore can keep them out:
But above all, the heart
Must bear the longest part.
Chorus
Let all the world in ev’ry corner sing,
My God and King
George Herbert | The Temple | The Church | Antiphon (1)
The poem emphasizes universality and inclusivity of divine worship, suggesting that the entire world resounds with praise for God. The refrain, ‘Let all the world in every corner sing, / My God and King,’ creates a communal call to worship through the poem.
In the first verse, Herbert observes that no part of creation is too remote to participate in this act of praise. The ‘heavens are not too high’ implies that even loftiest parts of existence are within reach of God’s presence and praise. That the earth is ‘not too low’ suggests that God’s praise can flourish in every humble or hidden corner of the world. By connecting heaven and earth through praise, the poem knows that the divine is omnipresent and accessible, wherever one may be.
The second verse shifts focus to the Church as a collective body of worship; there is power of song to transcend physical barriers. ‘No door can keep them out.’ This implies that spiritual praise cannot be confined or silenced, no matter attempts to contain it. However, the poem underscores that genuine worship must ultimately be seated in the heart, as ‘the heart / Must bear the longest part’. This phrase suggests that while communal worship is important, the enduring and most meaningful aspect of worship is the individual, heartfelt devotion of each individual believer. We are all individuals with God.
By juxtaposing physical spaces – heavens, earth, the Church – with spiritual commitment of the heart, the poem presents worship as an act that is both outwardly communal and deeply personal. The refrain, which binds each verse, reinforces the idea that this praise is both continuous and unending, a shared endeavour that is boundless across place and person.
In this verse, Jesus speaks about being the light of the world. Jesus offers hope and guidance to all who believe in Jesus. This passage invites us to reflect on the mission of bringing the light of Jesus to those who are still in darkness, those who have not yet come to know Jesus personally [ … ]
Sometimes, when I read my Bible, I pause in the reading and say to myself: ‘This bit’s real.’ It would be fair to say, I have issues with Mary, because, contrary to what we are taught to say, Mary isn’t my mother. Rather: Mum is. One bit of the Bible-text says this: And when his family heard it, they went out to seize him, for people were saying, “He is beside himself.” … And his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside they sent to him and called him. And a crowd was sitting about him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking around on those who sat about him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother.” (Mark 3: 21; 31-35.) Here she comes. She is in considerable distress. I can imagine that. I can relate to that. To save her boy from whatever he’s got himself into this time. And you’re not telling me there isn’t something inside that. Her boy is beside himself. Radical. Radicalized. Radicalizing. A misunderstood word. /ˈradɪk(ə)l/ adjective & noun. 1 Forming the root, basis, or foundation; original, primary. 2a Inherent in the nature of a thing or person; fundamental. b Of action, change, an idea: going to the root or origin; far-reaching, thorough. c Advocating thorough or far-reaching change. d Characterized by departure from tradition; progressive; unorthodox. ‘He has a demon! And he is mad!’ – thus ‘the Jews’. (e.g. John 10: 20.) Come home! It’s all she wants. His family want him back now. But it is an exclusive cult: there is an inside and there is an outside; and on the outside, they are not meant to understand, lest they be converted. He has defined himself as different from anything she was. Only at the end does Jesus say to his Mum – and with savage, bitter irony: ‘Woman, behold your son.’ And then he dies. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. We ask that we might find Mary in our hearts as a Yes! place for Jesus. It is also recommended that we pray to Jesus that we may be further in oneness with Mary. It is self-emptying, such that we only exist insofar as we are responsive to God’s Word. * Last term, and put-out to pasture, the old Archbishop Emeritus came over to stay for a few days and did the odd class with us. He spoke of Yes! as the meaning of Mary’s virginity. And we were not very nice about him. One or two took umbrage. One or two got the hump. In a sense, his Grace, the Arch, basically wanted to move anyone he’d ever known from a high-place – a mountain – received theological ‘truth’ – to an imminent, human plane. Earthing the spiritual. Recalibrating metrics of life’s believability toward a spiritual sense of things. He might have asked the impermissible question: what happened? His Grace described it. God’s love as a cloud. This descended upon Mary – and subsumed her. Within the cloud, Mary capitulated utterly. She became only and purely a response to God’s love. As he spoke, the Arch cradled her. He carried her in his lap – in his hands. His Grace was a consecrated bishop. He was faith. He sat squat, a rounded man, hands cupped and ankles crossed, fingers interlocked, with parted thighs. Rumpled, washed, speckled. A lifetime’s skin… There could be no doubt His Grace spoke through long-term personal relationship with Mary. It was Julian went for him: ‘So are you saying Mary was a Virgin? Or are you not saying Mary was a Virgin?’ Nasty. No, it wasn’t pretty. Julian twisting his silver ring. For a moment, what Julian had said to the Arch simply failed to communicate. No, for a moment, that dumped on the air meant nothing. Then His Grace said: ‘There is a range of possible meanings we may understand in the question of Mary’s virginity. For example, there are understandings of the word virginity entailed in the action of giving birth.’ Julian said: ‘Duh! So had she had sex or hadn’t she?’ Trigger words. No, it wasn’t pretty. On that went for a little while. At length, Julian’s point seemed reluctantly conceded. Then the Arch told us a new story, an additionally human event, the more to baffle us. Controversially, he told us that Mary could not have been Joseph’s first wife, for this would not have been the way of things in the society of that time. His belief was that Joseph must have taken Mary into his household through pity. That would be normal, he said, for Joseph to bring a young, vulnerable girl, who is about to have a baby, within his protection, not meaning to enjoy with her marital relations, but through kindness. ‘And this story of the inn and stable,’ the Archbishop said, ‘it can’t have been like that really. Joseph has travelled with Mary to stay with his family, at home in Bethlehem, and they don’t want Mary in their house, for reasons which I am sure we can understand. It must have been there was considerable resistance to Mary. But Mary gives birth, and who can resist a baby? That’s what happened. It must have been. ‘I’m convinced that must have been how it happened really.’ Later that term, toward the beginning of Advent, we met boys who had been here before, in Valladolid, and now were in regular seminary. They had heard and recited verbatim all the Archbishop had said to them. Their spot-on impressions of each of the fathers were scathing. […]
The meditation on the love of Jesus Christ on Palm Sunday is struck by the imagery of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, though on a donkey. Crowds of people gathered around Jesus, laying down their cloaks and palm branches before Jesus, shouting ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!’ (Matthew 21:9, KJV) [ … ]
