‘Heavenly Cities’

 

The city is the boast of man,

Wrote the ancients long ago.

And many with them still agree,

For there within are found many

Human arts brought to their apogee—

The rhetoric of the statesmen,

The melodies of musicians,

Delicate medicine, bustling commerce,

Inspiring architecture.

The virtues are on display

For all to see and imitate—

Temperance and fortitude,

Prudence together with justice.

 

But there is a more perfect way,

The way trodden by Saint Onuphry

And all the desert-dwellers

Of northern Africa.  Thirsting

For the greatest Good, they fled

Distractions of the earthly city

For solitary places in the wild.

Here, wherever they settled,

Confounding human logic,

They raised up heavenly cities,

Monks and nuns living in community

Or all alone, and oftentimes

With angels, who fed to them

The Holy Mysteries of Christ.

 

In their cells and caves, the highest

Virtues manifested in their lives—

Faith, that God would lead them to the place

Of struggle, where salvation

Could be won.  Hope, that Heaven’s Lord

Would sustain them against hunger

And thirst; the attacks of demons

And fallen passions.  With the Sign

Of the Cross, psalmody, and the Name

Of Jesus, they prevailed against the latter

Two.  And God sustained their bodies

With miraculous springs, fruits, and loaves

Of freshest bread.  Love, for God

And man, they showed by seeing Christ

In everyone.  With handicrafts

They banished idleness and gave o’er

Profits to the poor.  With burning

Tears they begged God’s mercy for their lives

And for the world.  They bore the sins

Of others and atoned for them,

While declaring their own selves

To be the worst of sinners.

Warm hospitality was offered

To every guest.  The heart itself

Was made thus a wondrous home for God,

The desire for Whom lifted the holy

Ammas and abbas from the ground

As they prayed.

 

                              The utopia,

The no-place of the perfectionist

Dreamers is a reality,

A true-place where women and men

Become gods by Grace, not merely

In scorching African deserts

But wherever ascetic strivers

Seek to please God with all their soul

Unnoticed by their neighbors.

And they, each and all, shall become

Shimmering pillars and domes

And dear-worthy jasmines and roses

In the Eternal City of God.

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Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!

Anathema to the Union!