Early in the Year by My Friend’s Gift, a Reflection
This post is part of a broader series where Full Table contributors reflect on Wendell Berry’s work to celebrate his life and legacy. The list of reflections can be found here.
A few years back, Dr. Bridges challenged Trinity ż’s faculty to develop a better appreciation of poetry, something I had taken for granted. In my mind, I made excuses for why I didn’t want to or didn’t need to appreciate poetry — foolish thoughts like: “I’m a history teacher, not a literature teacher!” However, Dr. Bridges’ love for poetry was so evident, it inspired me to put forth an effort to at least try.
One of the intimidating things about starting this task was finding where to begin. I knew the names of great poets and had “read” them in high school (aka, I had teachers read them to me while I selfishly thought about worthless things). Luckily, I was given a collection of poems curated by The Circe Institute for someone in my position, 30 Poems to Memorize (Before It’s Too Late).
In this book, I experienced my first Wendell Berry poem. I had heard of Berry before and had even read a few of his poems, but nothing has ever moved me like “Early in the Year by My Friend’s Gift.” This poem, pulled from Berry’s 2009 Sabbath collection describes his experience seeing Piero della Francesca’s Resurrection of Jesus.
Early in the Year by my Friend’s Gift
Early in the year by my friend’s gift
I saw at Sansepolcro Piero’s vision:
The Soldiers who guard the dead from the living
themselves become as dead men, one
tumbling dazedly backward. Awake, his wounds
bleeding still, his foot upon the tomb, Christ
who bore our life to its most wretched end,
having thrust off like a blanket the heavy lid,
stands. But for his face and countenance
I have found no words: powerful beyond life
and death, seeing beyond sight or light,
beyond all triumph serene. All this Piero saw,
And we who were sleeping, seeking the dead
among the dead, dare to be awake. We who see
see we are forever seen, by sight have been
forever changed. The morning at last
has come. The trees, once bare, are green.
This poem did not affect me until I saw Piero’s painting myself.
Something about Christ’s eyes inspired me in the same way Berry described, and to this day, years later, I can’t stop thinking about the painting. I remember reading this poem one morning in my bedroom, and it made me sit up and contemplate what it meant to be seen by Christ, the power of Christ, and how we have been forever changed by the beautiful truth of the resurrection.
As Berry writes:
“All this Piero saw.
And we who were sleeping, seeking the dead
among the dead, dare to be awake.”
This one Wendell Berry poem changed me in a way I did not expect. It dared me to be awake. While I have much more work to cultivate a greater appreciation of poetry, Berry was the first poet to really show me the way poetry could benefit my soul.
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