days of lengthening light

It is early morning as, after several years back on Apple, I continue trying to retrain myself to use a PC on this new office laptop with Windows 8.1 and MS Office sumpmnother, wondering why Helvetica is not available on the scrolldown font listing. But, recalling Jeremy’s scathe about all things MS, I understand. On principle declining MS defaults then, I select Calibri over Arial, even though it may not make it past the Publish button.

And not yet having read the morning news, so not knowing whether the Malaysian airliner wreckage has been located. My mind is on Bernard of Morlas, as the hymnal calls him, alternatively Morlaix, more familiarly Cluny. Bernard of Cluny. God bless him, poor Bernie would never have been accepted into the Optimists Club. And had, by some bizarre twist, he been accepted and initiated, the club would have drummed him out in disgrace upon reading his first line.

De Contemptu Mundi, On Contempt for the World

Bernard is in mind this seasonally almost Spring morning of 62F. Dank, but at least there’s a large red star overhead: not winking, it must be Mars. And the blinking channel marker far across St Andrews Bay is clearly visible, proving there’s no fog. Maybe it is almost springtime, at least from the sun's viewpoint, in terms of worldly seasons. Lent, that is to say, when days begin to len-then, which is what Lent is, the vernal season of  Lengthening Days, "days of lengthening light" as in "Welcome, Happy Morning! age to age shall say." But my mind is on fate and the anguish of those who loved someone on MH370. They might well fathom Bernard.

He lived in the eleven-hundreds of the Common Era, and what he saw in and of mankind seems to have been no more true then than earlier in the time of Noah, or today nearly a millennium after: ach, our permanent condition. Bernard writes, draws, a discouraging picture of mankind – what the hell, this is my blogpost, I don’t have to render gender-inclusive if I don’t like. It’s not as if I were casting the lone vote against the dumpy NKorean with the bad haircut, I can say "mankind" instead of "humanity" or "people" if I DWP.

But instead of h___ and DWP, do make that heliotrope and daisy.

Bernard is in mind because it’s Lent and one apropos hymn of his poem has been excised from our hymnal (not that we ever sang it), even though it perfectly addresses what is. He isn’t here talking about the material world, but about us, stewards, in our certainty that only we have it right. Have what right? Everything, when in fact we have nothing right and everything wrong. Here’s the hymn, Neale’s extract from Bernie's poem.


"The World Is Very Evil"

by Bernard of Morlas, 12th century

Translated by John M. Neale, 1818-1866


        1. The world is very evil,

        The times are waxing late;

        Be sober and keep vigil,

        The Judge is at the gate;

        The Judge that comes in mercy,

        The Judge that comes with might,

        To terminate the evil,

        To diadem the right.


        2. Arise, arise, good Christian,

        Let right to wrong succeed;

        Let penitential sorrow

        To heav'nly gladness lead,

        To light that hath no evening,

        That knows no moon nor sun,

        The light so new and golden,

        The light that is but one.


        3. O home of fadeless splendor,

        Of flow'rs that bear no thorn,

        Where they shall dwell as children

        Who here as exiles mourn.

        Midst pow'r that knows no limit,

        Where knowledge has no bound,

        The beatific vision

        Shall glad the saints around.


        4. Strive, man, to win that glory;

        Toil, man, to gain that light;

        Send hope before to grasp it

        Till hope be lost in sight.

        Exult, O dust and ashes,

        The Lord shall be thy part;

        His only, His forever,

        Thou shalt be and thou art.


        5. O sweet and blessed country,

        The home of God's elect!

        O sweet and blessed country

        That eager hearts expect!

        Jesus, in mercy bring us

        To that dear land of rest,

        Who art, with God the Father

        And Spirit, ever blest.
If the judge is at the gate as Bernie says, evidently the gate is locked and he doesn't have a key. Having said bad words, I'm not signing this morning's post.