George Herbert (1593-1633) was known in his brief lifetime as a distinguished orator and, for a few years, a country curate of sweet and generous character. Only after his death did the world learn that in the privacy of his breast he suffered anguish in his efforts toward holiness. He had recorded this anguish, along with many acts of spiritual reflection, devotion and prayer, in some of the greatest poems of a century of great poetry.
For generations, Herbert’s book, “The Temple,” sold in great quantities, because of the ingenious forms Herbert found to express the universal joys and sufferings of Christian life. “The Pulley” is among the best of them, at once playful and serious, witty and profound. The title itself refers not to anything directly mentioned in the poem but to the irony of the human condition the poem describes: The more we wrestle with God, trying to pull him down to our level, the more his grace, despite us, raises us up to him.
Spiritual combat
The scenario is as simple as a bedtime story. God has poured out every blessing on mankind, his creation. We have many gifts, but one, “Rest,” clings like a soggy cornflake to the bottom of God’s bowl. Let it be so, says God, for if we could rest in the gifts of nature, then we creatures and “the God of Nature … both should losers be.”
While Herbert was still a youth, St. Francis de Sales wrote of our human condition as a spiritual combat. The great saint tells us that the “work of purging the soul neither can nor should end except with our life itself.” We will repent, but we will sin again and once again have to repent. For us, “in this war we are always victorious provided that we are willing to fight.” A primary means of combat is the Sacrament of Confession.
Elusive rest
Herbert (an Anglican) understood but regretted this condition. He tried in his ministry to serve God and his small flock, and yet a sense of rest escaped him. In some of his poems, he raises his complaints to God; in this one, he allows God, by way of allegory, to give his answer.
We keep the “rest” of our gifts but have not rest. We pursue rest with “repining restlessness.” We will gain it only when, weary souls at the end of our lives, we at long last come to rest in God. Herbert’s finest and final touch is to show us in a poetic figure that we can find rest only in God’s breast, just as the word “rest” is concealed within the word “breast.” For this, Herbert and all of us live in hope.
The Pulley
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.”
