Community Note: Our beloved Fr Chrysogonus Waddell entered into the joy of the Lord on this solemnity of Christ the King. Blessed with many talents and an exuberant spirit, Fr Chrysogonus returned the gifts generously and tirelessly. His musical compositions are known and played throughout the world.
His scholarly contributions are highly renowned and acclaimed. Humble and faithful, humorous and devout, he sought the face of the Lord with zeal and tenacity. May his song in heaven be jubilant and eternal!
The memory of Fr. Chrysogonus is very moving to me from when I first got to know him at the time we shared some study days at Monte Cistello 1960s.
Two days ago I was dusting bottom library shelves in the books on Our Lady and I came upon a print-off from LITURGY, the quarterly periodical produced by Fr. Chrysogonus. He published the article, THE BLESSED VIRGIN COMPARED TO THE AIR WE BREATHE by Gerard Manley Hopkins with Conference Notes of Thomas Merton. (LITURGY Vol. 25:1 3-19, 1991).
The Blessed Virgin poem above forms an apt Memorial for the thanksgiving and prayer of the life of Chrysogonus we cherish.
THE BLESSED VIRGIN COMPARED To THE AIR WE BREATHE
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
(Stonyhurst, May 1883)
With Conference Notes of
Thomas Merton
Getsemani 1954
| Wild air, world-mothering air, Nestling me everywhere, That each eyelash or hair Girdles; goes home betwixt The fleeciest, frailest-flixed Snowflake; that 's fairly mixed With, riddles, and is rife In every least thing's life; This needful, never spent, And nursing element; My more than meat and drink, My meal at every wink; This air, which, by life's law, My lung must draw and draw Now but to breathe its praise, Minds me in many ways Of her who not only Gave God's infinity Dwindled to infancy Welcome in womb and breast, Birth, milk, and all the rest But mothers each new grace That does now reach our race— Mary Immaculate, Merely a woman, yet Whose presence, power is Great as no goddess's Was deemèd, dreamèd; who This one work has to do— Let all God's glory through, God's glory which would go Through her and from her flow Off, and no way but so. I say that we are wound With mercy round and round As if with air: the same Is Mary, more by name. She, wild web, wondrous robe, Mantles the guilty globe, Since God has let dispense Her prayers his providence: Nay, more than almoner, The sweet alms' self is her And men are meant to share Her life as life does air. If I have understood, She holds high motherhood Towards all our ghostly good And plays in grace her part About man's beating heart, Laying, like air's fine flood, The deathdance in his blood; Yet no part but what will Be Christ our Saviour still. Of her flesh he took flesh: He does take fresh and fresh, Though much the mystery how, Not flesh but spirit now And makes, O marvellous! New Nazareths in us, Where she shall yet conceive Him, morning, noon, and eve; New Bethlems, and he born There, evening, noon, and morn— | Bethlem or Men here may draw like breath More Christ and baffle death; Who, born so, comes to be New self and nobler me In each one and each one More makes, when all is done, Both God's and Mary's Son. Again, look overhead How air is azurèd; O how! nay do but stand Where you can lift your hand Skywards: rich, rich it laps Round the four fingergaps. Yet such a sapphire-shot, Charged, steepèd sky will not Stain light. Yea, mark you this: It does no prejudice. The glass-blue days are those When every colour glows, Each shape and shadow shows. Blue be it: this blue heaven The seven or seven times seven Hued sunbeam will transmit Perfect, not alter it. Or if there does some soft, On things aloof, aloft, Bloom breathe, that one breath more Earth is the fairer for. Whereas did air not make This bath of blue and slake His fire, the sun would shake, A blear and blinding ball With blackness bound, and all The thick stars round him roll Flashing like flecks of coal, Quartz-fret, or sparks of salt, In grimy vasty vault. So God was god of old: A mother came to mould Those limbs like ours which are What must make our daystar Much dearer to mankind; Whose glory bare would blind Or less would win man's mind. Through her we may see him Made sweeter, not made dim, And her hand leaves his light Sifted to suit our sight. Be thou then, O thou dear Mother, my atmosphere; My happier world, wherein To wend and meet no sin; Above me, round me lie Fronting my froward eye With sweet and scarless sky; Stir in my ears, speak there Of God's love, O live air, Of patience, penance, prayer: World-mothering air, air wild, Wound with thee, in thee isled, Fold home, fast fold thy child. |
Conference Notes of THOMAS MERTON
The theme of the poem: the Universal Mediation of the Blessed Mother.
The poem develops in the form of an argument to prove that Mary's influence is as ever present, as necessary, as perfectly efficacious in producing spiritual life and keeping it in existence, as the air we breathe is necessary for preserving bodily life.
1. The all-pervading presence of air - the presence of Mary everywhere. Air is everywhere; it surrounds all things, it penetrates them all. "World mothering" air. Things are "nestled" in the air as children in the arrns of another. "Nestling Ire everywhere."
The smallest, frailest things - "frailest flixed snowf'Lake " - are "fairly riddled " with air. It is a
Needful, never spent
And nursing elerrent.
We are "nursed" by the air - it is our "meal at every wink" .
Hence the surrounding air is a Mother that protects and nourishes her child. This makes him at once think of Mary, and her presence.
She is Mother first of all to "God's infinity - dwindled to infancy". But also she "Mothers each new grace - that does new reach our race."
Hence the great power of Mary, a power that was never attributed to any goddess although she is a mere woman.
Her whole mission, her "vocation" is to be the medium which "lets all God's glory through" as the sky filters the light of the sun and pours it through on to the world .
. . . . ... . . . .. who
This one work has to do—
let all God's glory through,
God's glory, which would go
Through her and from her flow
Off, and no way but so.
2. Here he takes up the same idea and deepens it, makes it more concrete and precise. To be surrounded by her influence is to be surrounded by ''mercy''. Mary is present not only as a remote influence, not only in the gifts she brings to us. She is herself the mercy that surrounds us, so that we live in her. (Like a spirit she is present where she acts.)
I say that we are wound
With mercy round and round
As if with air: the same
Is Mary, more by name,
She, wild web, wondrous robe,
Mantles the guilty globe . . .
Nay, more than almoner
The sweet alms' self is her
And men are meant to share
Her life as life does air.
Mary is the life of our life. We breathe Mary. We live entirely by her.
As children within their mother's womb.
In other words, she is Mediatrix of all grace.
The doctrine of Mary' s Mediation of all grace:
God, who could have given us . all without Mary, freely decreed and positively ordained that grace should not be given to us without her intercession. " ... from her flow off, and no way but so." (see above)
The mediation of Mary is clearly subordinated to God. "Since God has let her dispense - her prayers his providence." She is "more than almoner," she is the "sweet alms' self", because all His gifts cane to us not only through her but as it were in her.
It is secondary to the mediation of Christ. She received all from and in Him. But it is universal.
a) In time - she has been since the Assumption the administrator of all grace for all people.
b) She is the administrator of omes et singulaegratiae [each and every grace] .
- sanctifying grace and the annexed gifts.
- actual graces - together with temporal goods and preservation fram evil.
- the graces of the sacraments - in so far as she merited de congruo the institution of the sacraments, and in so far as her intercession disposes us for a proper reception of the sacraments and obtains for us opportunities so to receive them.
This is summarized by Gerard Manley Hopkins as follows e
If I have understood,
She holds high motherhood
Towards all our ghostly good
And plays in grace her part
About man' s beating heart,
Laying, like air's fine flood
The deathdance in his blood;
Yet no part but what will
Be Christ our Saviour still.
Note the "action" of the imagery:
a) Mystery - is simply evoked. "If I have understood", and the word "ghostly" - ancient English word for "spiritual" - but sane resonance from modern usage of the word,
b) Action - ''man's beating heart" - "the deathdance in his blood." Rapid pulsing movements as of a thing precariously alive - fragile, palpitating life of the heart, and the inseparable presence of death within man I s very life (through original sin), since every heart beat is a renewal of life but a closer step towards death. But "like air's fine flood" - a smooth sweeping, uniform, silent action (suggesting efficacy, irresistible power') , Mary "allays", quiets, soothes, silences the "deathdance" - the agitation of man's sinful heart.
Apply this to contemplation of Mary - how close we are to hesychasm, although Gerard Manley Hopkins arrived at it purely spontaneously. Every breath, Mary invades our whole being, silencing, pacifying, smoothing out our life. Taste the sweetness of the air and feel its silence pour into you when you meditate. Mary. Quickly comes to constant sense of her presence. (cf. Yoga)
3. The life that is nourished and grows in us each moment is the life of CHRIST. At each breath of grace in our soul, Christ takes flesh, or rather "takes spirit" in us new:
And makes, O marvellous
New Nazareths in us,
Where she shall yet conceive
Him, morning, noon, and eve ...
Men here may draw like breath
More Christ and baffle death;
Who, born so, canes to be
New self and nobler me
In each one and each one
More makes, when all is done,
Both God I S and Mary' s Son.
So by the fact that we live in her, Christ is mothered in us. It is the doctrine of Bl. Guerric on the soul as the "mother of Christ" - but simplified by Gerard Manley Hopkins. To make Christ live in us, we need only to "breathe" Mary. Christ thus born in us is our true self "New self and nobler ne." And this takes place in all - his horizons widen out and embrace the whole Mystical Body, person by person: "in each one and each one."
4. As the purity of air filters the light of the sun without diminishing it, spreads it out, evenly and distributes it in the many colours of all things, so Mary’s purity does not "stain" the light of God, but brings it to us perfect.
Yet such a sapphire-shot,
Charged, steeped sky will not
Stain light. Yea, mark you this
It does no prejudice.
The glass-blue days are those
When every colour glows ,
Each shape and shadow shows ,
Blue be it: this blue heaven
The seven or seven times seven
Hued sunbeam will transmit
Perfect, not alter it.
5. Nevertheless, the air softens the harsh light of the sun.
And Mary' s mediation also brings us the light of God in a way that is bearable to our weak sight, without changing it. He comes to us "made sweeter, not made dim."
There are sane lines that remind us of Blake - a sudden picture of the sun without the protecting atmosphere of the earth –
Whereas did air not make
This bath of blue and slake
His fire, the sun would shake,
A blear and blinding ball
With blackness bound, and all
The thick stars round him roll
Flashing like specks of coal,
Quartz-fret, or sparks of salt,
In grimy, vasty vault.
These are some of the most marvellous lines in the poem. Brings out the feeling of a "hostile" heaven full of fires to which we are not tempered, whose sight hurts and frightens us - fires set in a vast emptiness in which we are likely to blow away.
This is the picture of the Old Testament God: "So God was god of old."
But the Incarnation has made "our daystar much dearer to mankind" .
Whose glory bare would blind
Or less would win man I s mind.
Through her we may see him
Made sweeter, not made dim,
And her hand leaves his light
Sifted to suit our light.
6. The closing lines are a beautiful prayer to Mary Mediatrix of grace.
Be thou then, O thou dear
Mother, my atmosphere;
My happier world,
wherein to wend and meet no sin;
Above me, round ne lie
Fronting my froward eye
With sweet and scarless sky;
Stir in my ears, speak there
Of God I S love, O live air,
Of patience, penance, prayer:
World-mothering air, air wild,
Wound with thee, in thee isled,
Fold home, fast fold thy child.
The final lines take up the first words of the poem and show all their meaning in a summary of the poem: our life consists in being clasped to our Mother’s breast, as we are "isled" and "mothered", that is to say, surrounded by the air.
Mary is all around us. We need to be aware of her to be "isled" in her, folded in her arms. This awareness is something she must give us, it being one of the great graces she procures for us. Thus we ask her to "fast fold" us, her children, in her arms.
