JOHANNES [Please note that the quoted reference by Burns – ‘Clouden’s silent towers’ is as written by him, and therefore not the modern spelling]
It is helpful to know that you only see what you know. Since we have a very limited knowledge of the world around us – one of the wisest philosophers said “I know that I know nothing” – it follows that also our ability to see is very limited. That means that eyesight is not just simply given to us, but as human beings we have to constantly learn to see. And that is an ongoing process that never ends.
Let me give you one example: Until last Sunday I only connected the name “Lincluden” with the Lincluden Household Waste Recycling Centre. Admittedly, such a place can be very helpful, especially if you have just moved and you are confronted with many boxes and other things you no longer need, but nevertheless, a recycling centre is not a charming place. It is only there because of our waste, and although we know that perhaps our waste is the only thing that will outlive us, it is nothing that we like to speak about. The name “Lincluden” smelled for me of my grey bin.
Then I heard Anne and David singing Robert Burns’ song “Ca’ The Yowes” in last Sunday’s service. With rapt attention I followed the simple yet mystical melody and the wonderful images of an intimate moonshine meeting within a nature that teaches us to feel. And there was this reference to “Clouden’s silent towers” – no it can’t be, I thought, yet it is, the song is referring to Lincluden Abbey – in smelling distance nowadays to the Recycling Centre. And suddenly the name “Lincluden” sounded so sweet and tender in my ears. I learned again that you should not never judge by your first impression, there is always more – much more – when you try to look deeper. The more you know, the more you see. And the more you are aware of how much you do not see.
There is so much more that this song can tell us. It describes a stroll along the Cluden Water at night, a time where our eyesight is very limited. Why should I go for a walk by night? Burns shows us that in the cloak of the night we can see things that are normally veiled by sunlight. He mentions the dancing fairies. Admittedly, I have never seen fairies – but I have also to admit that I have never been to the Cluden Water at midnight. Poetry opens our eyes to see the world in a new light. And that is why a poet and a priest basically have many things in common. The oldest texts of the Bible are songs, poems. You can even describe God as a poet because he created everything – not with his hands but through his word. Yet, that makes it also so difficult for a poet or a man of God because they speak about something that we normally do not see. No one has seen God – and who has seen the fairies? Faith gives your eyes wings that you can catch a glimpse of the world from God’s perspective.
When it comes to faith, we are all children who have just started to learn. If it were simple to live by faith, there would have been no need for such a big book like the Bible. Simple things can be explained with one sentence. Yet, when it comes to God, even all the pages in this world would not give enough space to describe him. There is so much to learn and to discover – and that is exciting. That is why we will have a Faith Course in the time of Lent and in the Easter time to which all are invited. You will find more about it in this magazine.
I have met and seen so many new and wonderful people and things in our last weeks. And I am imbued with anticipation about the future within this congregation. There is so much to learn for me. Just one example: this Burns’ song that from now on will always be connected for me with the last Sunday service – it closes with the words “I can die – but canna part, my bonie dearie”. I have never heard this expression before – is it not a deep description of faith? For if you really believe in the Easter miracle, in the crucified and risen Lord then there is no need to fear death, then you can die. Death is on the contrary the starting point of the true relationship with God. The only thing that frightens a lover is the prospect of losing the beloved. And if the beloved is the eternal God – what should we fear? It is better to die with God than to live without him because without him there is no life. As Burns says, it is the presence of the beloved that gives sense and purpose to everything. O my soul, praise your Lord professing your love – why not with these words:
Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die—but canna part,
My bonie dearie.