What if tomorrow never comes?

Yesterday, I read another Spanish poem that really caught my attention. It's really cool to see concepts and verses that you know from the Bible expressed in poetry from the seventeenth century. Sometimes it can be really hard to find ways to share Christ with your classmates, and so it's sweet to be able to share those Bible verses openly with an entire class.

The first section of the poem expresses Christ's desire to enter our lives, but counters that desire with the hardness of our hearts. There is an extended metaphor throughout the poem comparing our lives/bodies to a house where our hearts are represented by a door. Christ is knocking on the door hoping that the person will open and let him in. Sound familiar?

"Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me"

[Revelation 3:20]

But then the poet wraps up the poem with a wake-up call saying, "Listen, you keep ignoring Christ thinking that you'll answer Him tomorrow, but you say that everyday!" So there's a sense of carpe diem and seizing today because tomorrow is not guaranteed. It's just so hard to walk around campus or talk to people who say things like, "I'll pay attention to religion when I'm older. I just want to have fun while I'm in college." Getting older is not guaranteed. Only one thing is for sure, and it's the fact that we're all going to die. No one ever thinks it's coming until it's too late! So consider this your wake-up call! I know I've been evaluating a lot of things in my life along those lines lately...

So here's the poem. Hopefully you will get something from it as well:

¿Qué tengo yo que mi amistad procuras?
¿Qué interés se te sigue, Jesús mío,
que a mi puerta, cubierto de rocío,
pasas las noches del invierno escuras?

¡Oh, cuánto fueron mis entrañas duras,
pues no te abrí! ¡Qué estraño desvarío
si de mi ingratitud el yelo frío
secó las llagas de tus plantas puras!

¡Cuántas veces el ángel me decía:
Alma, asómate agora a la ventana,
verás con cuánto amor llamar porfía!

¡Y cuántas, hermosura soberana:
Mañana le abriremos -- respondía --,
para lo mismo responder mañana!

Translation:

What do I have that you seek my friendship?

What profit is there in it for you, my Jesus,

that at my door, covered with dew

you should spend the dark winter nights?

Oh, how hard my heart was

for me not to open to you! What a strange madness

if the cold ice of my ingratitude

froze the wounds of your pure feet!

How often my angel said to me,

"Soul, come now to the window

and you will see how lovingly he persists in knocking!"

And how often, oh sovereign beauty,

I would reply, "I will open to him tomorrow,"

only to make the same reply again the following day!

Spanish Renaissance Poetry

At the beginning of this quarter, I was far from excited to take a class called Renaissance and Baroque Poetry of Spain. I've never really been a huge fan of poetry in general, but imagine all of the metaphors and symbolism being in another language. However, the class is not as bad as I imagined it would be. I have had the opportunity to read several Spanish poems written about Christ throughout the quarter. I don't really know how to explain it, but there's something about expressing the glory of Christ in another language that is really powerful. Take, for instance, Christ's crucifixion. After reading about it and hearing it often, sometimes it can lose some of its power. However, when written as poetry, the message seems to be aimed right at your heart. Reading the gospel in another language allows one to understand on a deeper level because it is expressed in a way that that person is not used to. This may not make sense to anyone else, especially if you don't know another language, but at least maybe you can understand the idea of the gospel in poetry form being really powerful when you read the Psalms. So here's just one of the many examples and probably more will come in the future:

Rimas sacras XIV (Lope de Vega)
Pastor, que con tus silbos amorosos
me despertaste del profundo sueño;
tú, que hiciste cayado de este leño
en que tiendes los brazos poderosos:

vuelve los ojos a mi fe piadosos,
pues te confieso por mi amor y dueño
y la palabra de seguirte empeño
tus dulces silbos y tus pies hermosos.

Oye, Pastor, que por amores mueres,
no te espante el rigor de mis pecados,
pues tan amigo de rendidos eres.

Espera, pues, y escucha mis cuidados...
pero ¿cómo te digo que me esperes
si estás para esperar los pies clavados?

Translation (much is lost here, but so you get the point):
Shepherd who with your fond whistling calls
have awakened me from deep sleep;
you who have made a crook out of that piece of wood
upon which you stretch out your powerful arms:

turn your kind eyes upon my faith,
for I confess you as my lord and love
and pledge you my word to follow
your sweet whistling calls and your beautiful feet.

Listen, shepherd, since you die for love,
don't be frightened at the evil of my sins,
for you are such a friend of the helpless.

Wait, then, and hear my troubles...
But why should I tell you to wait for me
if you are constrained to wait by the nails through your feet?