“The Pulley” by George Herbert
When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
“Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie,
Contract into a span.”
So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.
“For if I should,” said he,
“Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
So both should losers be.
“Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to my breast.”
In George Herbert’s poem “The Pulley”, he recounts the creation of man, where God bestows on humanity all of his riches, withholding only one gift: rest. He withholds rest not because he does not love us, but rather to protect the relationship so that we do not become complacent, thinking that we have no need for anyone else and are complete in ourselves. It is the “repining restlessness” that keeps us tethered to the source of life itself, like that of an umbilical cord.
We all feel a pull to rest. God, in fact, commands us to rest on the Sabbath, but this rest is different in that it is not the fullness of rest, for there are always more things to do. I feel this acutely with Holy Week approaching and having just closed on our house, the list runs long of things we need to get in order, prepare, or eventually fix. Each and every one of us has our own mental or physical list of things to do throughout the week. When we come to Sundays, the rest that we find on Sabbath days does not undo our lists or make it so we can rest in ourselves. Sundays are days we are reoriented to the one in whom we find our life, and it points up to that future where we shall recline on the breast of Christ and find true rest. This weekly reminder guides us to the goodness of God even in the midst of weariness.
Entering into the final stretch of Lent, we feel this weariness in our bones. It is the weariness of Lent that highlights our restlessness. As much as our fasts and increased spiritual devotions have aided us this Lent, they are not meant to be adopted for the rest of our lives. Learn from them and incorporate them into your lives, but your life is not meant to be a perpetual Lent. We have missed the meaning of Lent if it does not lead us to Holy Week, Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost. As we enter Holy Week, two things happen: we feel an intensifying of our weariness as we attend service after service, but it also lifts our heads to behold our hope. Let your weariness lead you to the cross and your restlessness to the empty tomb.
The pulley of goodness and weariness extends beyond Lent and enters into seasons of our lives. At one point, we will be awe-struck by the goodness of God, and shortly after, we will be weighed down with weariness. And to a degree, this movement is found in our everyday lives, spanning moment to moment. Yet, even this movement is the grace of God: If goodness lead him not, yet weariness/ May toss him to my breast.” Give thanks in all seasons, for our King approaches: “Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.” (Ps. 24:7).
God's Peace,
Fr. Aaron