One of the lectionary readings for this day is the 51st Psalm. This great penitential psalm has the liturgical honor of inaugurating our Lenten season yearly at Ash Wednesday, where it is chanted during the imposition of ashes, often to the celebrated, sobering setting by Allegri. To honor this psalm, I offer the following: one of the Holy Sonnets by John Donne. Donne, besides being an outstanding metaphysical poet, was dean of Old St. Paul’s, London. I have had the privilege of seeing his monument there, one of only a few to survive the Great Fire. The penitential nature of this sonnet echoes that of the psalm. Donne’s use of a conceit here exemplifies his place among the Metaphysical Poets. The tantalizing paradox at the conclusion is among the most indelible I have read. It has remained with me since I first encountered this work in high school. I recalled this in our Lenten study of these poets some years ago with Stanley Rich. Extraordinarily, penitence, suffering may flower into wisdom and intimacy with the Divine as Donne’s work so redolently unfolds.
Batter my heart, three person’d God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurp’d town, to another due
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,
But am betroth’d unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
Ken Floyd
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