I would like to mark Easter with a poem by Czesław Miłosz (1911-2004), a great Polish-Lithuanian poet, essayist, and a Nobel Laureate in 1980.
Czesław Miłosz - Veni Creator
Przyjdź, Duchu Święty,
zginając (albo nie zginając) trawy,
ukazując się (albo nie) nad głową językiem płomienia,
kiedy sianokosy albo kiedy na podorywkę wychodzi traktor
w dolinie orzechowych gajów, albo kiedy śniegi
przywalą jodły kalekie w Sierra Nevada.
Jestem człowiek tylko, więc potrzebuję widzialnych znaków,
nużę się prędko budowaniem schodów abstrakcji.
Prosiłem nieraz, wiesz sam, żeby figura w kościele
podniosła dla mnie rękę, raz jeden, jedyny.
Ale rozumiem że znaki mogą być tylko ludzkie.
Zbudź więc jednego człowieka, gdziekolwiek na ziemi
(nie mnie, bo jednak znam co przyzwoitość)
i pozwól, abym patrząc na niego podziwiać mogł Ciebie.
Translated by Czesław Miłosz and Robert Pinsky
Come, Holy Spirit,
bending or not bending the grasses,
appearing or not above our heads in a tongue of flame,
at hay harvest or when they plough in the orchards or when snow
covers crippled firs in the Sierra Nevada.
I am only a man: I need visible signs.
I tire easily, building the stairway of abstraction.
Many a time I asked, you know it well, that the statue in church
lifts its hand, only once, just once, for me.
But I understand that signs must be human,
therefore call one man, anywhere on earth,
not me—after all I have some decency—
and allow me, when I look at him, to marvel at you.
In Veni Creator, I – an atheist since the age of 15 – recognise my childhood longing for a sign of the presence of God.
In my life at the time, the open, ubiquitous display of bullism, casual cruelty, purposeful cruelty from grown-ups and children alike (of which I was also guilty), and the uninspiring lessons of the Catholic catechism – where something as revolutionary and shattering as the teachings of Christ were reduced to a dry enumeration of tedious rules, so disconnected from life that it beggars belief how they could dictate the course of much of world history for 2,000 years – compelled me to ask, time an time again, for a piece of evidence that it was worth it to strive to become a better version of myself, to be patient, to endure injustice. But I could have faith and trust only in someone whose love and care I knew for sure and felt, and I soon understood that that distant God was undeserving of them.
Personally, the only grace I may expect to experience in this world is to meet someone whose kindness, generosity, selflessness, inner strength, talent, courage give me an example to follow, a sense of hope and gratitude. In short, do you think that decent, honourable, admirable human beings are a proof of the existence of God? Shouldn’t we be able to live up to our own potential for good, just because – in our heart of hearts – we know it is the right thing to do, and the only sign we will ever need to live a meaningful life?
Thanks for reading! If you liked this post, you can share it, leave a comment, or buy me a tea. I’d be very grateful to you, I’d appreciate it more than I can express!
I’m an atheist but I love your sentiment. ❤️