On Divine Providence
On Divine Providence
(Breaking Signs by Cirilo F. Bautista)
Five years after it was brought down by a storm, the guava tree in my back garden continues to flourish. Last summer, it yielded enough sweet fruits to fill up two big baskets, not counting those which the bats carried away in their nightly raid. From a fallen, pathetic skeleton to an upright, luxuriant tree - only the mysterious working of divine providence can explain it. What else can explain the branches that sprout all over the bottle, the dark green leaves catching the rays of the early morning sun, or the small white flower buds on the first stage of fruition? I marvel at this simple manifestation of God's magic and thank him for honoring my tree with it. G.K. Chesterton wrote that the wonderful thing about miracles is that they happen. Natural wonders will continue. Gerard Manley Hopkins tells us in "God's Grandeur", because "the Holy Ghost over the bent world broods with warm breasts and with ah, bright wings." Nature does things on the grand scale, as befits its noble and elevated position in the hierarchy of creation. It is "never spent" for God, in His limitless splendor and inexhaustible goodness, replenishes it constantly.
In effect, the guava tree blooms again because of the cycle of growth inherent in the being of things. But it is not automatic and inevitable, it needs divine sanction of conferment to operate. The early peoples of the earth recognized this and acknowledged the supremacy and capability of a mystical element in their natural environment. Their worship of nature was not a naive theological expression but an affirmation of their communal weakness and insufficiency. They were humbled upon feeling their proper place in this scheme of things. Now we know the same thing and are equally humbled.
That is why my anxiety over the guava was not focused on its ability to survive, but on whether my hope for it to survive was worthy of divine grant. I was anxious on the metaphysical level, and hardly knew it. Everything has its place in the universe. Thomas Gray says in "Ode to a Distant Prospect of Eton College", but he would prefer that the revelation of their prospected spots be postponed, to avoid human sadness:
"All are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, the' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness to swiftly flies?"
Many will agree with him, but what he says of course, is simply wishful thinking, for destiny is implacable. The simple, uncomplicated way of life has its attractions, but remains an ideal. Gray's plea for the preservation of utter simplicity in life -- "Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise" - violates the rule of natural progression. He wants time to be frozen at a point where innocence and rusticity dominate, but life, alas, moves onward, things happen on the natural and human levels. There is no more paradise on earth.
Unlike Gray, I have nothing against wisdom. It can be situated profitably beside the starkest innocence to benefit the individuals for, rightly used, it can have a tempering effect on the rigidity of attitudes. Above all, I trust in the Divine Plan because - because I know nothing about it. Its mysteriousness does not distress me, though. On the contrary, it inspires me to envision only grace and beneficence flowing from it into the stream of the human condition. It cannot be anything but good, since God does not abandon His creatures after bringing them into this world. He sees to their safe passage into the next.
Again, even for that, I have no proof. I have only the feeling that the whole of creation was premised on the goodness of its Creator, or else it should have disintegrated long ago. The Divine Plan, then, must be just and fulfilling, though. I know nothing about it. It is as concerned with the destinies of human souls as with nurturing the branches of a once fallen guava tree.
(Breaking Signs by Cirilo F. Bautista)
Five years after it was brought down by a storm, the guava tree in my back garden continues to flourish. Last summer, it yielded enough sweet fruits to fill up two big baskets, not counting those which the bats carried away in their nightly raid. From a fallen, pathetic skeleton to an upright, luxuriant tree - only the mysterious working of divine providence can explain it. What else can explain the branches that sprout all over the bottle, the dark green leaves catching the rays of the early morning sun, or the small white flower buds on the first stage of fruition? I marvel at this simple manifestation of God's magic and thank him for honoring my tree with it. G.K. Chesterton wrote that the wonderful thing about miracles is that they happen. Natural wonders will continue. Gerard Manley Hopkins tells us in "God's Grandeur", because "the Holy Ghost over the bent world broods with warm breasts and with ah, bright wings." Nature does things on the grand scale, as befits its noble and elevated position in the hierarchy of creation. It is "never spent" for God, in His limitless splendor and inexhaustible goodness, replenishes it constantly.
In effect, the guava tree blooms again because of the cycle of growth inherent in the being of things. But it is not automatic and inevitable, it needs divine sanction of conferment to operate. The early peoples of the earth recognized this and acknowledged the supremacy and capability of a mystical element in their natural environment. Their worship of nature was not a naive theological expression but an affirmation of their communal weakness and insufficiency. They were humbled upon feeling their proper place in this scheme of things. Now we know the same thing and are equally humbled.
That is why my anxiety over the guava was not focused on its ability to survive, but on whether my hope for it to survive was worthy of divine grant. I was anxious on the metaphysical level, and hardly knew it. Everything has its place in the universe. Thomas Gray says in "Ode to a Distant Prospect of Eton College", but he would prefer that the revelation of their prospected spots be postponed, to avoid human sadness:
"All are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, the' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness to swiftly flies?"
Many will agree with him, but what he says of course, is simply wishful thinking, for destiny is implacable. The simple, uncomplicated way of life has its attractions, but remains an ideal. Gray's plea for the preservation of utter simplicity in life -- "Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise" - violates the rule of natural progression. He wants time to be frozen at a point where innocence and rusticity dominate, but life, alas, moves onward, things happen on the natural and human levels. There is no more paradise on earth.
Unlike Gray, I have nothing against wisdom. It can be situated profitably beside the starkest innocence to benefit the individuals for, rightly used, it can have a tempering effect on the rigidity of attitudes. Above all, I trust in the Divine Plan because - because I know nothing about it. Its mysteriousness does not distress me, though. On the contrary, it inspires me to envision only grace and beneficence flowing from it into the stream of the human condition. It cannot be anything but good, since God does not abandon His creatures after bringing them into this world. He sees to their safe passage into the next.
Again, even for that, I have no proof. I have only the feeling that the whole of creation was premised on the goodness of its Creator, or else it should have disintegrated long ago. The Divine Plan, then, must be just and fulfilling, though. I know nothing about it. It is as concerned with the destinies of human souls as with nurturing the branches of a once fallen guava tree.
posted by angelo at 7:32 PM
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