Herbert's poem is itself a banquet, so many rivers of thought emptying into the one ocean. I love it dearly. Each line can be lived with (and in) for a long time but I find I'm most often taken with how he chooses to close the poem with what feels like the most prosaic phrase in the whole: prayer is "something understood". By whom, George? By God himself? He knows what these apparently random, half-formed utterances mean? That's so hopeful. By me?? I fear not. It remains elusive.
Re plummet - I think I've always read that as a noun rather than a verb, having in mind the plumbline that determines (sounds) how deep the sea is, so prayer tries to comprehend the depths of heaven and earth. Perhaps Herbert intends both noun and verb?
Malcolm Guite has a collection of 27 sonnets that take this poem phrase by phrase and develop its thoughts. It's a wonderful collection (it's in a book titled 'After Prayer'). Highly recommended.
Malcolm's collection of sonnets in response to Herbert's 'Prayer' is one of my favorites. I had the privilege of attending a weeklong workshop in 2018 where he recited many of the selections from "After Prayer" prior to its publication....I can still hear him reading the lines of many of them.
I was grateful for his attention to Herbert's sonnet and having him unpack each one of the 27 metaphors was very helpful.
I think Guite's #11 is my favorite, "The Six Days World Transposing in an Hour"
I, too, thought of a plumbline sounding the ocean. Thank you for the Malcom Guite recommendation, I only recently discovered his work and I’m in awe of him.
He's a real treasure isn't he - if you can get hold of the audio version of that collection it is read by Guite himself, his voice accentuating and adding to the meaning.
The engine I thought of is an ancient one, the seige engine, conveying the idea of besieging God in heaven with one's petitions. It connects in my mind with Jacob wrestling God, saying "I will not let thee go, except thou bless me." Or Job, pleading in chapter after chapter with God as in a court of law to answer Job's case. Or Jesus, telling us to pray and not to faint.
Herbert's poetry is in a style that I associated with modern poetry - creating shapes from words, or like this Prayer, composing an entire poem from multiple different short metaphors. When I took a course in writing, they talked about such modern poetic techniques and never mentioned Hebert, yet he was the real innovator.
Another thought I had is how standard writing advice (which is not always good, haha!) dictates avoiding the passive voice. Now, there are good reasons to avoid passive voice! But there are also good reasons to use it. And “something understood” — as passive voice — does exactly and more than it should by not answering the question of who exactly is doing the understanding here. So perfect.
"The land of spices; something understood." Last evening our mission team dined at The Spice Village in the predominately South Asian community of Southall in greater London. This morning as I read your post I reflected on how a fine meal, even spicy, engaged with good conversation between brothers and sisters can be a taste of God's kingdom here and now in the ordinary.
At first I had an inward struggle with “Christ’s side-piercing spear.” whenever that happens it just means that I need give it more consideration. And while I was thinking about that line, the word I thought of was “completion.” The soldier pierced Christ heart to ensure his death. Christ’s death means eternal life for us as believers in him and complete forgiveness of sin. This year especially, those two aspects of faith are what I thank God for in prayer almost every day. I am so thankful for his gift, for life, for his sacrifice, for the promise of being with him one day in heaven. For the knowledge that that side piercing spear was not his end, but that he is risen—alive and well, and living and active. A very beautiful thing.
“The land of spices”, this touched me. I’m a sensory prayer person. Most of my prayer time is done walking so I can see and hear my prayer—touch something, and smell the earth. I experience God. I praise him. I thank him. And it is through this kind of prayer, that I feel like I get to know people who I don’t know personally, but I’m praying for anyway. It is through prayer this year that I finally understood what God had been trying to get me to see for years, that my life has value. Prayers are rich, spicy and full flavorful things. This poem is particularly meaningful.
Could it be that the middle stanza of "Prayer (1)" is an antithesis to Donne's "Batter My Heart"? Of course, Herbert knows he's not going to subjugate God, but God does seem willing to let us assail him. (I wonder if I used "subjugate" correctly.)
I have been inspired to pull out my complete collection of Herbert's English poetry (excludes his Latin poetry).
I think one characteristic fun poem that fewer people know about is "Coloss. 3.3." It's not a shape, of which I think there are only the two everyone knows, but it has its own trick.
‘The land of spices’ is a phrase that I knew from reading this poem many years ago and find deeply rich and beautiful . I have very rarely felt like this when praying, but I want to
Karen, I'm so very grateful for your free 'classes' on some of my favorite works....I'm learning a lot! Keep it up; you will continue to have my support!
"Ordinary" is another pun, based on now-archaic meanings, but meanings common among the ordinary classes of Herbert's time. Think about how all diners have a Western omelette and a short stack of pancakes. Ordinary fare for a diner.
Now, consider that that fare and the "diners"/taverns where you would get that fare are both known as "ordinary." You go to the barbecue to get barbecue. In Herbert's time, a person could tell another, "Meet me at the ordinary for a bottle of small beer and a dish of dried cod." Not a sumptuous meal, not much for the upper classes, but common fare at a common place for common people.
Since I am writing this on my phone, I will note without quotation that Shakespeare uses ordinary in these senses in Antony and Cleopatra. "Ordinary" is quite common in the more populist plays of his contemporary Thomas Middleton.
Herbert uses feasting and Eucharistic metaphors throughout "Prayer (1)"; "ordinary" enhances the meaning, as if the local daily special might be, in a real sense, Divine.
Two eggs, over hard, rye toast, ham, hash browns with onions, with blessing and divine grace. Amen.
You've driven me to the OED, and indeed, there are common roots. Though I haven't given it a thought before, a restaurant order would have this same tavern lineage. One early OED citation for an "ordinary" as a tavern has it serving porridge.
The OED also emphasizes the public (pub) nature of the ordinary. Prayer, it would seem for Herbert, is associated with the shared meal, the Eucharist.
"Exalted manna": looking in Exodus through Deuteronomy, manna is not exalted. It's basic, and the people eventually complain about it. It had become ordinary. As prayer, the ordinary becomes exalted.
Thanks for this. So extraordinary in depth and form! Herbert was ahead of his time.
Are you acquainted with Eugene Peterson’s book on Revelation? He used “Reversed Thunder” as his title. It’s been a long time since I read it. At the time our library offered it.
Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination https://a.co/d/0OUmDSE
Thanks for the Bronte tip too. 😊 Her Villette is in my Audible queue. That also is a new one to me. Godspeed on your travels, Karen.
I did remember Peterson used that phrase for a title but couldn’t remember which book. Thank you for linking! I need to re-read Villette someday. Let us know how you like it!
Humbling update from me on the topic of judging a book by its cover: this cheap paperback edition with the lovely cover was printed backwards. BACKWARDS! I tried reading it that way but it is harder than I’d have expected. I got a refund and am looking for a better copy. Grrrr…
Herbert's poem is itself a banquet, so many rivers of thought emptying into the one ocean. I love it dearly. Each line can be lived with (and in) for a long time but I find I'm most often taken with how he chooses to close the poem with what feels like the most prosaic phrase in the whole: prayer is "something understood". By whom, George? By God himself? He knows what these apparently random, half-formed utterances mean? That's so hopeful. By me?? I fear not. It remains elusive.
Re plummet - I think I've always read that as a noun rather than a verb, having in mind the plumbline that determines (sounds) how deep the sea is, so prayer tries to comprehend the depths of heaven and earth. Perhaps Herbert intends both noun and verb?
Malcolm Guite has a collection of 27 sonnets that take this poem phrase by phrase and develop its thoughts. It's a wonderful collection (it's in a book titled 'After Prayer'). Highly recommended.
Guite is everywhere there is such rich poetry ti be found! I am going to look into this collection.
Malcolm's collection of sonnets in response to Herbert's 'Prayer' is one of my favorites. I had the privilege of attending a weeklong workshop in 2018 where he recited many of the selections from "After Prayer" prior to its publication....I can still hear him reading the lines of many of them.
I was grateful for his attention to Herbert's sonnet and having him unpack each one of the 27 metaphors was very helpful.
I think Guite's #11 is my favorite, "The Six Days World Transposing in an Hour"
"But listening through dissonance and doubt,
Wait in the space between, until we hear
A change of key, a secret chord disclosed,
A kind of tune, and all the world transposed."
Ah, wonderful!
I, too, thought of a plumbline sounding the ocean. Thank you for the Malcom Guite recommendation, I only recently discovered his work and I’m in awe of him.
He's a real treasure isn't he - if you can get hold of the audio version of that collection it is read by Guite himself, his voice accentuating and adding to the meaning.
Richard, I always enjoy reading your insights.
Thank you, Mel, likewise!
Thank you, Karen.. I hope you enjoy it.
The engine I thought of is an ancient one, the seige engine, conveying the idea of besieging God in heaven with one's petitions. It connects in my mind with Jacob wrestling God, saying "I will not let thee go, except thou bless me." Or Job, pleading in chapter after chapter with God as in a court of law to answer Job's case. Or Jesus, telling us to pray and not to faint.
Herbert's poetry is in a style that I associated with modern poetry - creating shapes from words, or like this Prayer, composing an entire poem from multiple different short metaphors. When I took a course in writing, they talked about such modern poetic techniques and never mentioned Hebert, yet he was the real innovator.
Yes! “Creating shapes from words.” I did see shapes when I read this.
He was truly innovative!
The imagery of spices is so very rich and evocative in so many ways.
Spices suggest to me incense, and the vision of Revelation 5, where the incense held before the throne of God is called the prayers of the saints.
Oh, yes!
Another thought I had is how standard writing advice (which is not always good, haha!) dictates avoiding the passive voice. Now, there are good reasons to avoid passive voice! But there are also good reasons to use it. And “something understood” — as passive voice — does exactly and more than it should by not answering the question of who exactly is doing the understanding here. So perfect.
And this wonderful post by includes some of the writing advice I referred to about avoiding passive voice. It is good, right advice. But obviously good writers know when, why, and how to break the rules: https://open.substack.com/pub/nadyawilliams/p/become-a-better-writer-part-iii?r=90e4e&utm_medium=ios
"The land of spices; something understood." Last evening our mission team dined at The Spice Village in the predominately South Asian community of Southall in greater London. This morning as I read your post I reflected on how a fine meal, even spicy, engaged with good conversation between brothers and sisters can be a taste of God's kingdom here and now in the ordinary.
That is beautiful, Eric. Spicy indeed.
At first I had an inward struggle with “Christ’s side-piercing spear.” whenever that happens it just means that I need give it more consideration. And while I was thinking about that line, the word I thought of was “completion.” The soldier pierced Christ heart to ensure his death. Christ’s death means eternal life for us as believers in him and complete forgiveness of sin. This year especially, those two aspects of faith are what I thank God for in prayer almost every day. I am so thankful for his gift, for life, for his sacrifice, for the promise of being with him one day in heaven. For the knowledge that that side piercing spear was not his end, but that he is risen—alive and well, and living and active. A very beautiful thing.
“The land of spices”, this touched me. I’m a sensory prayer person. Most of my prayer time is done walking so I can see and hear my prayer—touch something, and smell the earth. I experience God. I praise him. I thank him. And it is through this kind of prayer, that I feel like I get to know people who I don’t know personally, but I’m praying for anyway. It is through prayer this year that I finally understood what God had been trying to get me to see for years, that my life has value. Prayers are rich, spicy and full flavorful things. This poem is particularly meaningful.
Yes, your classes are a gift. Keep going Karen.
Prayer as spear piercing Christ’s side is something I just can’t stop thinking about. Your thoughts add so much, Mel. Thank you.
Could it be that the middle stanza of "Prayer (1)" is an antithesis to Donne's "Batter My Heart"? Of course, Herbert knows he's not going to subjugate God, but God does seem willing to let us assail him. (I wonder if I used "subjugate" correctly.)
I have been inspired to pull out my complete collection of Herbert's English poetry (excludes his Latin poetry).
I think one characteristic fun poem that fewer people know about is "Coloss. 3.3." It's not a shape, of which I think there are only the two everyone knows, but it has its own trick.
Here's a link: https://www.georgeherbert.org.uk/archives/selected_work_04.html
I did not know that poem, Jack! Thank you! What a hidden treasure…
Mel, I love the image you offered of how you pray--in such a sensory way. I also enjoy walking and talking to God, a preferred means of 'prayer.'
"Prayers are rich, spicy and full flavorful things." What a phrase you've offered us.
‘The land of spices’ is a phrase that I knew from reading this poem many years ago and find deeply rich and beautiful . I have very rarely felt like this when praying, but I want to
🙏💙
Karen, I'm so very grateful for your free 'classes' on some of my favorite works....I'm learning a lot! Keep it up; you will continue to have my support!
Thank you, dear Jody!
I think you're going to like this:
"Ordinary" is another pun, based on now-archaic meanings, but meanings common among the ordinary classes of Herbert's time. Think about how all diners have a Western omelette and a short stack of pancakes. Ordinary fare for a diner.
Now, consider that that fare and the "diners"/taverns where you would get that fare are both known as "ordinary." You go to the barbecue to get barbecue. In Herbert's time, a person could tell another, "Meet me at the ordinary for a bottle of small beer and a dish of dried cod." Not a sumptuous meal, not much for the upper classes, but common fare at a common place for common people.
Since I am writing this on my phone, I will note without quotation that Shakespeare uses ordinary in these senses in Antony and Cleopatra. "Ordinary" is quite common in the more populist plays of his contemporary Thomas Middleton.
Herbert uses feasting and Eucharistic metaphors throughout "Prayer (1)"; "ordinary" enhances the meaning, as if the local daily special might be, in a real sense, Divine.
Two eggs, over hard, rye toast, ham, hash browns with onions, with blessing and divine grace. Amen.
Fielding opens Tom Jones with the image of a limited menu at an ordinary as well. I assume “order” is the word that ties all these meanings together.
You've driven me to the OED, and indeed, there are common roots. Though I haven't given it a thought before, a restaurant order would have this same tavern lineage. One early OED citation for an "ordinary" as a tavern has it serving porridge.
The OED also emphasizes the public (pub) nature of the ordinary. Prayer, it would seem for Herbert, is associated with the shared meal, the Eucharist.
Love this!
"Exalted manna": looking in Exodus through Deuteronomy, manna is not exalted. It's basic, and the people eventually complain about it. It had become ordinary. As prayer, the ordinary becomes exalted.
Thanks for this. So extraordinary in depth and form! Herbert was ahead of his time.
Are you acquainted with Eugene Peterson’s book on Revelation? He used “Reversed Thunder” as his title. It’s been a long time since I read it. At the time our library offered it.
Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination https://a.co/d/0OUmDSE
Thanks for the Bronte tip too. 😊 Her Villette is in my Audible queue. That also is a new one to me. Godspeed on your travels, Karen.
I did remember Peterson used that phrase for a title but couldn’t remember which book. Thank you for linking! I need to re-read Villette someday. Let us know how you like it!
Humbling update from me on the topic of judging a book by its cover: this cheap paperback edition with the lovely cover was printed backwards. BACKWARDS! I tried reading it that way but it is harder than I’d have expected. I got a refund and am looking for a better copy. Grrrr…