Civil Wars: Poems

“Give Way to God, or The Dying Christ,”

58 “Give Way to God, or The Dying Christ” by PIerre de fermaT to Jean-Louis Guez de Balzac Intelligence, deluded, often stood there stunned, preferring a foolish play of colors to true lights. Poor Reason, what wars do you wage, what overthrown antique deities do you call upon obliquely with elegant twists and tropes of your far-too-clever tongue? Have those old notions, so long dormant now, revived the pagan gods to the awe they used to inspire in men? Hiding away, locked in Pluto’s dismal kingdom or in the Elysian Fields, do they still wield the power to will belief on our part? Press on, nevertheless, along those paths where Balzac has already shown the way. Do not be distracted or interrupt your progress to dawdle among the silent oaks of Dodona’s grove or attend to words they claim come from the mute Phoebus, but yield to God. Descendants of ancient heaven-dwellers have given way already and in unison they declare, “God! Behold God!” Nature, bowing low, acknowledges him as her parent. To him the earth, the seas, and the blasts of storms in the air are tame and loving subjects. For him do the very clouds moderate their voices, the control of which is no longer their own. His dazzling light shines with a pure brightness, for he pulled light out of light, the one God whose eternal mind from his birth onward exuded eternity. The Supreme Father, he took the garments of mortal flesh to bend the hearts of men to a new course and wring out the last droplets of love from grudging human spirits. It was no easy labor, for the Parent handed over the Son’s scourged body to wretchedness and madness, such that he in heaven groaned aloud too and contorted his notional limbs in an agony they had never experienced before. 59 As if he had not yet cleansed the world of its many sins and as if this appalling torment were not at all excessive, he said, “Behold, here I am, the sacrificial lamb; willingly I submit myself to the pain of death. Consider, then, the body, dripping with blood and sweat. Even if you reject the entire idea of salvation, look into the eyes of a man who suffers unfairly.” Thus he spoke as he raised his face to the distant stars. What prayers did he then pour out? What pitiable sighs broke from his burdened body, doing his father’s bidding and, at the same time, preparing himself for the further strenuous labors that would be required of mind and will? Meanwhile, descending from heaven was the comfort for which he had prayed, and there it was—the noise of the threatening mob receded and in its place was support from the heavenly powers watching the punishment who came to surround the waiting cross. He said, then: “Supreme Being, why do you thus delay? Why do you intercede now to postpone these dangers for which I have prepared? Why do you interfere with obstacles in the path of my not-yet-fulfilled love?” Having said that, he feels his flesh once again succumb to its mortal condition and mind, to trouble and human doubt. His gait is no longer steady. In this condition, he spends the night in prayer. His companions, who ought to keep watch with him, are sound asleep, unaware of his impending trial and the prayers he offers. The business of heaven is far beyond them Where is their honor? Their courage? Of what effect are their oaths of loyalty to their teacher’s commands? None of these matter. He wanders alone and hears a rumbling all around him from the shadowy pines on which a hostile power impinges. It is under the weight of that very wood that he fails at last, suffering lashes and thorns, and then affixed to the cross, driven on by his love and desire for our salvation that assuages the dreadful torments his torn limbs undergo. He knows that death is approaching, the destiny of mortals, and he trembles while the mad crowd, now turning against him, hurl their jeers and insults. For these degenerate people 60 he prays for life and peace. Never once does he wish for his torturers the pains that they are inflicting on him. And then, after a long time, it is over, his bloody body streaked with...