A couple of Sundays ago I spoke of an elderly woman named Eleanor Martin, a resident of a nursing home that I often visited back in college. I spoke of her love of literature and her ability to inspire me with her joy in the midst of crosses. I mentioned that she loved poetry and could recite so many from memory. Here’s one that she shared with me and one, which I have committed to memory – and remember often. It’s by one of the grandfathers of American poetry, Walt Whitman. It is a poem entitled When I Heard he learn’d Astronomer.
When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proof, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams,
to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured
with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
I’ve recited this beautiful piece of poetry to myself a number of times over the past week because it’s a message that I’ve needed to hear. You see Whitman was aware that in so many ways the real danger in life is to be so caught up in trying to understand the world that we fail to see the beauty – the real, infinite, and Divine beauty in the world around us. It isn’t wrong to look at the stars and to add, divide, and measure them, but when that quest to understand so overwhelms us that we lose sight of the sheer wonder of it all, the vastness and glory of a beautiful night sky, when this happens we miss something glorious – the chance to sit in the mysterious presence of God.
There are moments when I am guilty of this penchant to add, divide and measure. There are those moments when I look at my wife Melissa and ask the questions of every married person (questions I am sure she ponders when looking at me). What is she thinking? Why is she the way she is? What do I need to do or be for this relationship to grow? Now I don’t think I’d be accused of over-thinking relationships, but I do think that often I miss the moments of just looking at my partner, of looking in perfect silence and being grateful for the Divine beauty that resides within her and every human, of being grateful for the presence of God in her and in our marriage.
How often I spend my time with my children in a directive mode. Do this! Eat your food. Put on your pajamas and go to bed. Stop fighting!. I am guilty, I think, of looking at my children only to add, divide and measure them. Isn’t it even more important to once in awhile just watch them and glory in their little lives, and be grateful for the Divine beauty that resides within them?
And certainly I am guilty of over-analyzing when it comes to this parish community. I spend so much of my time and thoughtful energy thinking about the next step on our journey, the next program and bigger picture and long-range plan. Pastors have a natural inclination to do this, to add, divide and measure their communities of faith and their ideas about God. What pastors (myself included) do not do well is simply affirming the Divine beauty that resides within each parish community.
In the end I suppose what Walt Whitman is trying to say is what Jesus in the gospels is trying to teach – that we don’t have to have everything all figured out and life isn’t about having all the answers. Sometimes it’s enough just to look at this life we’ve been given, and people we have been given to love…and to be grateful. That’s it, just be grateful! Maybe tonight I’ll do as Whitman suggests – I’ll revel in my spouse and be grateful for my children and pray with a full heart for the people of Messiah Church and somewhere this evening –
I’ll rise and glide out; I’ll wander off by myself
In the mystical moist night air, and from time to time,
Look up in perfect silence at the stars.