George Herbert's poetry: Christian calling, struggle and self-doubt

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/mar/17/george-herbert-poetry-faith-vocation

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One of the things that is most striking about George Herbert's poetry, taken as a whole, is how unhappy he seems to have been for much of the time. The poems are full of tortured self-doubt, agonised examination of his motivations, and complaint. Usually these are resolved in a neat couplet at the end of the poem, recalling the poet to God's promises or presence, in typical psalmist style. Some of these neat resolutions are more convincing than others.

I suspect that this honesty about the struggles, fears and doubts of life as a Christian is a large part of Herbert's continued appeal as a poet. His doubts and agony about his vocation in life resonate even with many who do not share his faith. For those of us who do, it is refreshing and reassuring to know that we are not alone in finding being a faithful Christian difficult at times. As a member of the clergy, I take great comfort in knowing that even Herbert – the quintessential Anglican Divine – sometimes railed against and agonised about his vocation.

In his recent and very comprehensive biography of Herbert, Music at Midnight, John Drury makes clear just how anguished Herbert was about what he was to do with his life and talents. He had a charmed early life: born into a noble family, Westminster school, Cambridge University. On graduating, he quickly became a fellow and began assisting the university orator. Soon after, he gained the plum job of orator himself. The orator's job was to write speeches and letters on the university's behalf to all sorts of influential people – the King, courtiers, nobles, foreign dignitaries – as occasion arose. It was a key post in the university hierarchy, and a court appointment seemed to beckon. According to his contemporary biographer, Izaak Walton, Herbert at that point hoped eventually to be appointed as secretary of state.

However, Herbert had also always considered being ordained, and greatly enjoyed the academic study of divinity. The pull and tug of these three vocations is on display in several of his poems, particularly the autobiographical Affliction (1), which Drury dates to late in Herbert's time at Cambridge. Eventually, in 1624, he left the university, but it was only in 1630, after six years of soul-searching, that he finally became a country parson.

Fearing that he is not being fruitful, wishing to be a simple tree and know what he was for, is a common theme in his poems. Herbert worried that he was not fulfilling his early potential, that he was letting everyone down, that he wasn't doing whatever God wanted for him. Most people have endured similar periods of soul-searching: how can I be happy? How can I best make a difference? And, if a Christian, how can I best know God and follow Jesus's example?

Herbert found this discernment particularly hard as he was so talented. On his good days he knew he could have made a success at anything he turned his hand to. In The Pearl, for example, each verse sets out what he has left behind, confident that:

The poem takes its title from the parable of a perfect pearl hidden in a field: a man finds it, and goes and sells everything he has so that he can buy the field and own the pearl. In the final verse, Herbert uses this metaphor of buying and selling to great effect, making it clear that he went into the bargain of ordination with his eyes open:

But I must admit that I prefer the poems in which Herbert is much less certain that he is making a good bargain. A particular favourite is The Collar. Drury describes this as depicting a teenage tantrum during a family argument, but I have always read it as describing very closely the ebb and flow of vocation in my own life. It begins in dramatic fashion:

The poet has had enough. He poses a series of rhetorical questions:

… reaching a crescendo with:

For most of the time that I have been a member of the Church of England, lay or ordained, it has been riven with disputes and arguments. Some people left in disgust when women were first ordained, 20 years ago this month. Some have been threatening to leave ever since, if women are ever made bishops. I have myself wrestled repeatedly with the question of whether I should stay, and try to work for reform within the church, or whether by staying I am guilty of colluding with injustice. Lines from The Collar have been drumming in my head for the past couple of years, as first the church voted down women bishops (in November 2012), and now ties itself up in knots trying to both be welcoming to, and at the same time disapprove of, gay Christians. Others, with diametrically opposing views to me on both questions, are experiencing very similar dilemmas. Herbert's poetry of struggle speaks directly into our contemporary experience.

We stay, as Herbert did, because whatever our different views, struggles and doubts, we think we have heard something of the call of God, and we are trying to respond to that as faithfully as we can.

Sometimes people think we Christians choose to believe in God for an easy life, or to make hard questions go away. In my experience, and in Herbert's too, nothing could be further from the truth.