Flowers at the scene of a road accident, flowers at a church wedding, flowers at a graduation ceremony: we live by flowers. Shakespeare knew this and knew their names. Jesus knew this and gave an accolade to a meadow full of flowers in a splendour that even that knowing old king Solomon could not equal.
Fashion pages would have it otherwise but the flowers of the fields were a reminder to Jesus and his disciples that fleeting as they are flowers are not only a gift of God; they are reminders that they come unsought and are briefly enjoyed. Our limited life-span gives us fleeting days of pleasure but that winged chariot that sets terms on human love and partnership is always there under a more welcome figure than that of the harvester with his scythe.
When we cut our garden flowers, we promote them to a place in our living-space. It is a promotion they deserve – not because they work hard to please us but because it is in their essence to display and introduce colour into what would otherwise be a drab world.
It was a series of poems on London’s Underground that introduced me to ‘daffodils /That come before the swallow dares, /and takes the winds of March with beauty.’ Shakespeare had an affection as we all have for carnations and with them for the pansy or heartsease that maidens call ‘love in idleness’. And ‘rosemary, that’s for remembrance.’
Milton has his say at this point. When Satan comes back to tell his followers that the destructive mission has been accomplished, he finds the fallen angels quelling the pangs of hunger. Instead of chewing fruit they are chewing ashes, soot and cinders.
The choice is ours – roses or ashes.
If you have a comment on this post please send an email to Revd John King at johnc.king@talktalk.net Edited extracts may be published. To forward this to a friend click on the chain icon below.
Comments