Whoever we are, we know two things about William Blake. He wrote ‘The Tyger’ and he wrote the poem beginning ‘And did those feet …’ Many will have been dumbfounded by his etchings and engravings, works of art that have the same teasing perspective as we find in Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’. His seemingly artless lyrics, at the other end of the scale, have the simplicity of ballad style with a child-like awareness of the great puzzles of life.
Blake is a poet we cannot ignore. To turn away from his works is to deny ourselves and to neuter our imagination. He compels us to start from the womb and to explore our humanity. Of course, neither of his two enigmatic poems can deserve a place in the hymn-book. They are not songs of praise; they are more like the grit in the oyster. Indeed, the speculative visit of Jesus to England could be construed as giving needless offence to countries not sharing that privilege. The poem about the tiger and its symbolism is, again, speculative and disturbing – this time because it looks searchingly into God’s handiwork. But in both cases imagination is furiously at work, compelling the reader to think, if we dare say this, about the imagination of a creative God.
So we have Blake gazing in terror at the power of an imaginative Creator with the same wonder that led Graham Kendrick (to compare great genius with a lesser but genuine talent) to coin a phrase about flinging stars into space. For Blake this sets up a contest between good and evil. That dwarfs our petty concerns and limited capabilities. It requires us to be silent when we remember the critic who said: ‘There is something in the madness of this man which interests me more than the sanity of Lord Byron and Walter Scott.’
We also are set back on our heels by the possibility of the incarnate Son of God walking the footpaths of England as he once trod the tracks of Galilee. In both cases we have to face what has been called the scandal of particularity. God intruded (if we can use that term) on his creation at a particular time and in a particular location. He set limits on himself – just as we find St Paul saying that in the incarnate Jesus emptied himself.
When we come to a consideration of the claims of Christ, we do well to bring our imagination with us. Earth-bound creatures as we are, we should reject any thought of stifling ourselves by expecting to understand the entirety of the works of God. We do not go to Blake for help with orthodox belief but he goads us into getting our imagination going. Jesus’ parables have a similar effect.
TRUTH AND LIES
‘A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.’ (William Blake)
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