Go Away, Old Man

Recently I have been reading the Shakespearean plays of Henry IV, Parts I & II.  They form the middle of a collection of four plays (Richard II, Henry IV, Part I, Henry IV, Part II, and Henry V), which chronicled events and dramatic that occurred in Britain during the 1400-1500s; these events were the precursors to The War of the Roses, where two distinctive families vied for the right to the throne of England.

Richard II is my favourite of these four but Henry IV (Parts I & II) have a very interesting tale to tell of what it means to be a king – and to live like one.  In these plays, Britain’s reigning king, Henry IV of Bolingbroke, has a son named Henry (or Hal) who causes his father unknown grief owing to the fact that he spends all his time with an obese and gluttonous drunkard named Falstaff, as well as prostitutes and social degenerates.  This relationship between Hal and Falstaff are so pronounced that almost half of the plays’ scenes are devoted to their association.

Yet at the end of Part II, Hal becomes King Henry V when his father dies.  This leads to a momentous change for Hal, for when he becomes king, he dramatically decides to leave behind the follies of his youth.  He does this because he is now a king, like the prodigal son who returned.   When Falstaff hears that Henry is monarch, he giddily assumes that he is about to get a high place in society, that he will make millions, and be an influential politician now that his friend has become king; he even ‘gatecrashes’ the coronation by asking the new king to give him high ranking.  Yet his hopes are dashed when King Hal openly disowns him.  The new king’s words are powerful when he denounces his former associate (Act V: Scene 5, 47-65, emphasis added):

I know thee not, old man.  Fall to thy prayers.

How will white hairs becomes a fool and jester!

I have long dreamt of such a kind of man, 

So surfeit-swelled, so old, and so profane,

But, being awakened, I do despise my dream … 

Presume not that I am the thing I was,

For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, 

That I have turned away from my former self. 

So will I those that kept me company.  

When thou dost hear am I as I have been,

Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast,

The tutor and the feeder of my riots.

Till then, I banish thee on pain of death,

As I have done the rest of my misleaders,

Not to come near our person by ten mile.

From a Christian perspective, this really resonates.  For those of us who are Christian, we are sons of the living God, heirs of Christ.  We will be judging creation with Jesus Christ at His return and since this is who we will be, we are to live in that way in the here and now.  For Hal in Henry IV, being king meant that his indulgent youth as Prince of Wales was a painful memory (But, being awakened, I do despise my dream) – the dream became a nightmare.  The ‘old man’, as much, of sin no longer has its way (For God doth know, so shall the world perceive/ That I have turned away from my former self).  Hal amputates these ties to the past publicly and not merely privately – and he did so so dramatically that his former associates are banned from coming 10 within miles near the king, lest their forfeit their lives in the attempt.

Christians are empowered by the Holy Spirit to say, like Prince Hal, “Go away and never come back!” to their old man of sin.  Titus 2:11-14 explicitly tells us so: In 1 Peter 4:1-4 we read (ESV): Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for human passions but for the will of God.  For the time that is past suffices for doing what the Gentiles want to do, living in sensuality, passions, drunkenness, orgies, drinking parties, and lawless idolatry.  May we want to do this, by God’s grace and strength.

God bless, Nahum.

A Poem to Ponder: ‘The Agony’, by George Herbert

George Herbert was one of Britain’s most groundbreaking poets and orators, but he was much more besides.  In the 1600s he worked as an Anglican pastor in a small parish outside the township of Salisbury.  He died an early death at the age of 39 but once deceased, a friend published Herbert’s poetry in a collection known as The Temple.  This morning in my devotion time, I read one of Herbert’s poems which reflects on the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ for sin.  It is a short poem, but one that is packed with profound and soul-satisfying theology, as I aim my own poetry to be.  This is it:

‘The Agony’, by George Herbert

      Philosophers have measured the mountains,
Fathomed the depths of the seas, of states, and kings,
Walked with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains:
      But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that found them; Sin and Love.

      Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
      His skin, his garments bloody be.
Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein.

      Who knows not Love, let him assay,
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
      If ever he did taste the like.
Love in that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine.

What is all this about, you may wonder, and why did it move me so much?  How could it move you?  Well, this is what Herbert is saying through his stanzas.
In the first stanza, Herbert is describing the ways that human philosophers think upon the meaning of life by looking at creation (‘measured the mountains/ fathomed the depths of the seas … walked with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains’) and human power (‘of states, and kings’).  It is another way of saying that they have their heads in the clouds and miss the real deal.  But this is a foil by why Herbert challenges his readers to consider something much more profound and important for the soul of man: 1) human sin and 2) God’s love for sinners through Jesus Christ’s sacrifice for sin.
In stanza 2, Herbert hones in on the first theme (‘who would know Sin’) in order to remind/enlighten the reader that if you want to see how horrible sin is, to remember how God’s wrath against it crushed His Son both internally and externally.  Herbert describes this in very forceful imagery (‘a man so wrung with pains, that all his hair, his skin, his garments bloody be’).  Sin is also described at the end of the middle stanza as invading every pore, nook, and cranny of a person, but will eventually cause pain and destruction (‘sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain/ to hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein’).  No wonder it weakened and wounded Christ so much to bear our sin!
In stanza 3, Herbert brings the poem around to the theme of love but in ways that are both disturbing and life-giving.  With poetic imagery, he calls to mind the piercing of Jesus’ side as He hung upon the cross, which caused Him to pour out water and blood (‘which on the cross a pike/ did set again abroach’).  The reader is invited three times by Herbert to ‘taste’ that outpouring by participating in the ordinance of Communion (‘let him assay … and taste that juice … then let him say if ever he did taste the like’).  Incidentally, the meaning of the verb ‘assay’ means to determine the quality of something and the way that Herbert uses it here indicates that participating in Communion helps Christians to understand the fitness of Christ’s atoning work.
The last two lines of the poem are by far the most moving and the crowning glory of the entire poem.  Here, the shedding of Jesus’ blood on the cross is described not merely as the ending of His earthly life: rather, for the Christian it is ‘that liquor sweet and most divine‘ which brings him mercy, grace, restoration, healing, and life.  In these lines, blood is no longer merely blood (as it is to God); rather, it has turned to wine for the redeemed sinner, which gladdens and relaxes the soul as actual wine does to the body.
I am uncertain if this explanation brings the poem to life for you but it helped me to dwell on the richness of Christ’s love for me as I read it aloud this morning.  How lovely are the truths in those words: Love in that liquor sweet and most divine/ which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine!