Friday, November 5, 2021

"God, let me see your glory..."

I'm not a fisherman but I loved this essay. Matt Labash was one of my favorite writers at The Weekly Standard. He begins quoting Gerard Manley Hopkins:
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

He writes about one day:
....Shit happens, as the Good Book says. (I forget which translation.) But so did the glory that happened just before it. I saw it with my own eyes, and felt it on the end of my line. I had what I needed, and more than I could want. And what I really wanted, more than shad, was my faith restored that anything can happen, and that sometimes, those things are good. .... (read it if you are permitted)
Matt Labash, "Spots of time," Slack Time.

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