Christ in the Universe

Alice Meynell

 With this ambiguous earth
 His dealings have been told us. These abide:
 The signal to a maid, the human birth,
 The lesson, and the young Man crucified.
 But not a star of all
 The innumerable host of stars has heard
 How He administered this terrestrial ball.
 Our race have kept their Lord¿s entrusted Word.
 Of His earth-visiting feet
 None knows the secret, cherished, perilous,
 The terrible, shamefast, frightened, whispered, sweet
 Heart-shattering secret of His way with us.
 No planet knows that this
 Our wayside planet, carrying land and wave,
 Love and life multiplied, and pain and bliss,
 Bears, as chief treasure, one forsaken grave.
 Nor, in our little day,
 May His devices with the heavens be guessed,
 His pilgrimage to thread the Milky Way
 Or His bestowals there be manifest.
 But in the eternities,
 Doubtless we shall compare together, hear
 A million alien Gospels, in what guise
 He trod the Pleiades, the Lyre, the Bear.
 O, be prepared, my soul!
 To read the inconceivable, to scan
 The million forms of God those stars unroll
 When, in our turn, we show to them a Man.

Commentary

As a convinced atheist of many years I had often wondered how Christians reconciled their belief in an all-knowing all-powerful universe-wide God, with what they believed to be its (his?) interest in, and manifestation in our parochial little planet, with all its peculiarities of biology and geography - almost all of them unlikely to be repeated anywhere else in the universe.

Alice Meynell tackled this problem head-on, walking over it as though it didn’t exist.

Roger

Links

Biography

Alice Meynell (1847 - 1922), English writer, editor, critic, and suffragist, now remembered mainly as a poet.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Meynell


The Wondering Minstrels, poem #1927 · 10 September 2006

Guest poem submitted by Dr. Roger Thurling

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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.

John Ellis · 10 September 2006

I read her poem and then I read it again and again. It reminds me of the feeling I get when I’m camping and I look up at the stars on a clear night. I feel small and humbled and at the same time curious about God. Why did he invest so much of himself in our little speck of dust? Thanks for sharing this poem with me.

Alan Kornheiser · 10 September 2006

There’s a rather horrifying novel by James Blish that addresses this identical issue but comes to a somewhat different conclusion. Here’s a link; the book is A Case of Conscience.

[broken link] http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN//ref=nosim/scifan3-20/