If Winter come, can Spring be far behind?
Eileen Grant on her preference for being a hedgehog, The Frank Friar on The Idiot and our Lesser Spotted Saint is St Mungo! Welcome
Light in Darkness
If Winter come, can Spring be far behind?
I don’t know about you, but my gut response to that line is often “Yes, it jolly well can!” But then Shelley was writing his words in the warmth of Tuscany and didn’t know what winter could be like in Northern Scotland.
Winter in these northern climes can present us with an endurance test: as well as frost, ice and snow, we have to contend with darkness, days when there seems very little light to cheer us up, causing many people to suffer doziness and depression. At such times, I often think it would be quite pleasant to be a hedgehog and simply curl up in a pile of leaves for the duration, or a squirrel that only ventures out for a scamper when the sun appears. But then again, such lives may have their drawbacks. Perhaps one way to survive winter ice and darkness is to reflect on the positive. Is there a positive side to winter? I hear you ask. Well, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend the sentiments of that other poet, James Thomson, who hailed winter thus: “Welcome kindred Glooms! / Wish’d, wint’ry, Horrors, hail!”
We could, however, brighten the dark days by emulating other poets who have found a special beauty in wintry landscapes. Leafless trees stretching skeletal branches heavenwards have a purity of line, like Chinese ink drawings, silhouetted against the deep blue of a sunlit winter sky or an early golden sunset. Those same trees, garlanded in snow blossom or shimmering frosty crystals, take on a new loveliness that cries out to us of the Creator’s unique artistry. I remember as a child gazing through a magnifying glass at a snowflake before it melted, filled with wonder at the intricate pattern displayed. Each snowflake, we are told, is unique, never to be repeated, designed by a Master Craftsman:
“God was my shaper.
He hammered, He wrought me,
So purely, so palely,
Tinily, surely,
Mightily, frailly,
Insculped and embossed,
With His hammer of wind,
And His graver of frost.” (F. Thompson)
Frost too is made up of a million minute filigree designs, like frozen ferns and leaves. In these happy days of central heating, we rarely have the chance to trace this frozen glory on windowpanes; but we can glimpse it on blades of grass, on fallen leaves, on fence-posts, as the “Super Tramp”, W.H. Davies, who lived so close to the created world, observed:
Come, lovely Morning, rich in frost
On iron, wood and glass;
Show all your pains to silver-gild
Each little blade of grass.
Come, after sunset; come, Oh come –
You clear and frosty Night:
Dig up your fields of diamonds, till
The heavens all dance in light!
Who has not felt a passing thrill on seeing the fearsome magnificence of icicles hanging from roof and bridge? (While hoping that none would fall on unsuspecting passers-by or postmen!) Or the sparkle of sunshine on a pristine quilt of snow? Or the delicate frosted branches of trees rising from the ghostly breath of a morning mist? These are the images we need to hold on to.
Our pagan ancestors knew the dark despair this season could bring and so, in the depths of their winter, they celebrated an end to darkness and the return of the sun, of light. Festivals of light are universal. Christians too discovered light in darkness and when they began to celebrate the giving of God’s greatest Gift to us, they chose mid-winter as the most obvious date for the birth of Light into the world. In the enchanted land of Narnia, lying under the White Witch’s spell, it is “always winter and never Christmas”: what a dreadful curse! In the depths of our winter, the Church gives us this festival of Christ’s Nativity: a celebration of joy centred in a new-born baby who is the Light born into the darkness which cannot overcome that Light; so we can say with Victor Hugo, “Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.”
Surprising though it may seem to us shivering in a northern winter and dreaming of holidays in warmer climes, our forefathers in faith in the Middle East knew snow and ice, frost and cold, but they saw even these elements as part of God’s wonderful Creation and therefore as worthy of praise, to be marvelled at. I find Psalm 147 has often come to mind as I waited – and waited – for a bus on a freezing winter morning:
He showers down snow white as wool,
he scatters hoar-frost like ashes.
He hurls down hailstones like crumbs.
The waters are frozen at his touch;
he sends forth his word and it melts them;
at the breath of his mouth the waters flow.
There is, surely, a sense of magnificent grandeur in the picture the Psalmist paints. In one sense, of course, winter is a result of the Fall: when humankind fell, all Creation fell with us. Yet, in His great love for us, God has imbued even a fallen world with so much beauty, there in abundance if we have eyes to see it. And so we can make our own the song in the Book of Daniel of the three young men in the fiery furnace, facing death but praising God and calling on the whole of Creation to praise Him:
Bless the Lord, ice and cold,
Sing praise to him and highly exalt him for ever.
Bless the Lord, frosts and snows,
Sing praise to him and highly exalt him for ever!
Eileen Clare Grant
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The Idiot Part I Chapter 4 (The Story of Marie)
Little Seeds of Charity
By the Fr Nicholas Blackwell (The Frank Friar)
Over the last few years, I have made it a point to read one book of Dostoevsky a year. The fruit from this endeavor has been quite enriching for my life. For this article, I wish to write about a moment in the book The Idiot.
Joy in the Silence of God
By Eric Hanna
I have done my best to mention as little as possible in this newsletter, ‘the C-Word’. You know what C-word I am talking about!
St Kentigern, Feast 13th January, d.614
The Life of St Kentigern by a monk of Furness. Written by a Cistercian monk of Furness Abbey, commisioned by Bishop Jocelyn in the 12th Century. A most interesting piece of writing and worth a look when you have the time. Here is also a thesis describing the work.
If you have missed any past Coracles you can click here. Most of our past articles are on the roughbounds website as well as talks from Bishop Hugh Gilbert and the Highland Mens Conference. There is also some information on St Moluag and links to other good Catholic online material that is often used in the Coracle.
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God Bless from Eric and Team