Simplified
'Simplify me when I'm dead,' go the words in one particularly memorable modern poem (which I've appended at the bottom of this post). At this time of year I think of the two-way simplification of the man named Jesus, son of God, son of Man.
There are indeed at least two ways to look at the person of Jesus Christ. The first is "Time's wrong-way telescope", which makes him look smaller, less distinct, a vague image which is conveniently distant and far from us all; the second is the simplification of death and aftermath, a cold but dynamic logic given to us by Paul the apostle.
In the first, we find it convenient to distance him by virtue of alien experience. He died for the sins of all the world, a thought so large that we can run around saying that we are too small, that it is so big, that we are not worthy, that there must be some sort of calculus that is beyond us. So we put it far away from us, and we bow down and sing hymns, and because of that well-known phenomenon called 'diminished responsibility (or sense of moral agency) due to being in a large group', we feel a lot better, marvelling from afar.
The second is terribly inconvenient. If the Christ is not dead and risen again, then you are still in your sins. If it didn't happen, you are pitiful because you believe it did. If Christ is not risen, your faith is in vain. And in this second model, the Christ walks up to you and very inconveniently tells you, as one man to another, "Do not be faithless, but believe.' Having provided the physical proof to Thomas the apostle, he turns round and says, "Because you have seen me (and stuck your hand into this big hole in my ribs), you have believed; blessed are those who haven't and yet believe."
It's easier to surrender far away from the battlefield, as it were. It is easy to sing hymns once a year, remember the death on Friday and the resurrection on Sunday. That can be a good thing. It's not so easy though to be forever standing witness (in all our own fallen glory of fallibility and shame) to something that you have not much rational evidence for. But there it is. Simplify your choice.
=====
Simplify Me When I'm Dead
Remember me when I am dead
Simplify me when I am dead.
As the process of earth
strip off the colour and the skin
take the brown hair and the blue eye
and leave me simpler than at birth,
when hairless I came howling in
as the moon came in the cold sky.
Of my skeleton perhaps
so stripped, a learned man may say
"He was of such a type and intelligence," no more.
Thus when in a year collapse
particular memories, you may
deduce from the long pain I bore
the opinion I held, who was my foe
and what I left, even my appearance
but incidents will be no guide.
Time's wrong way telescope will show
a minute man the years hence
and by distance simplified.
Through the lens see if I seem
substance or nothing: of the world
deserving mention or charitable oblivion
not by momentary spleen
or love into decision hurled
leisurely arrive at an opinion.
Remember me when I am dead
and simplify me when I am dead.
Keith Douglas
(died in France, 9th June 1944, under enemy mortar fire)
There are indeed at least two ways to look at the person of Jesus Christ. The first is "Time's wrong-way telescope", which makes him look smaller, less distinct, a vague image which is conveniently distant and far from us all; the second is the simplification of death and aftermath, a cold but dynamic logic given to us by Paul the apostle.
In the first, we find it convenient to distance him by virtue of alien experience. He died for the sins of all the world, a thought so large that we can run around saying that we are too small, that it is so big, that we are not worthy, that there must be some sort of calculus that is beyond us. So we put it far away from us, and we bow down and sing hymns, and because of that well-known phenomenon called 'diminished responsibility (or sense of moral agency) due to being in a large group', we feel a lot better, marvelling from afar.
The second is terribly inconvenient. If the Christ is not dead and risen again, then you are still in your sins. If it didn't happen, you are pitiful because you believe it did. If Christ is not risen, your faith is in vain. And in this second model, the Christ walks up to you and very inconveniently tells you, as one man to another, "Do not be faithless, but believe.' Having provided the physical proof to Thomas the apostle, he turns round and says, "Because you have seen me (and stuck your hand into this big hole in my ribs), you have believed; blessed are those who haven't and yet believe."
It's easier to surrender far away from the battlefield, as it were. It is easy to sing hymns once a year, remember the death on Friday and the resurrection on Sunday. That can be a good thing. It's not so easy though to be forever standing witness (in all our own fallen glory of fallibility and shame) to something that you have not much rational evidence for. But there it is. Simplify your choice.
=====
Simplify Me When I'm Dead
Remember me when I am dead
Simplify me when I am dead.
As the process of earth
strip off the colour and the skin
take the brown hair and the blue eye
and leave me simpler than at birth,
when hairless I came howling in
as the moon came in the cold sky.
Of my skeleton perhaps
so stripped, a learned man may say
"He was of such a type and intelligence," no more.
Thus when in a year collapse
particular memories, you may
deduce from the long pain I bore
the opinion I held, who was my foe
and what I left, even my appearance
but incidents will be no guide.
Time's wrong way telescope will show
a minute man the years hence
and by distance simplified.
Through the lens see if I seem
substance or nothing: of the world
deserving mention or charitable oblivion
not by momentary spleen
or love into decision hurled
leisurely arrive at an opinion.
Remember me when I am dead
and simplify me when I am dead.
Keith Douglas
(died in France, 9th June 1944, under enemy mortar fire)
Labels: Easter, Good Friday, Jesus, Keith Douglas, Poetry, Simplicity
etched with acid at 11:14:00 am
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