Past two weeks’ readings:
Dante, Purgatorio, Cantos XIV–XXXIII
Luther, The Bondage of the Will, Introduction–The Necessity of Knowing God and His Power

Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathomed the depths of seas, of states and kings;
Walked with a staff to heav’n, and traced fountains:
But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove;
Yet few there are that sound them—Sin and Love.

Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A Man so wrung with pains, that all His hair,
His skin, His garments bloody be.
Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein.

Who knows not Love, let him assay
And taste that juice which, on the cross, a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
If ever he did taste the like,
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood, but I as wine.

– George Herbert (1633)

This week I share with you The Agony by George Herbert. A fitting poem for Holy Week, The Agony consists of three six-line stanzas, otherwise known as sestets.

The poem’s movement has a beautiful logic to it. In the first stanza, Herbert paints a picture of the world’s wisdom; in the second, he shows us the true measure of sin; and in the third, he reveals the true measure of love. Notice that Herbert does not define sin and love philosophically, but rather points to Christ Himself. Theology becomes contemplation.

The opening lists humanity’s great achievements. The progression is expansive: mountains (geography), seas (nature), states and kings (politics), heaven (astronomy and metaphysics), and fountains (natural philosophy). Human reason appears capable of measuring everything.

Yet the poet abruptly cuts off our confidence.

But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove;
Yet few there are that sound them—Sin and Love.

The adjective spacious is striking. Sin and Love are not physically large; they are spiritually immeasurable. The irony is powerful. We busy ourselves measuring everything except what matters most.

“To measure” is the governing metaphor of the poem. Here it means to understand, to comprehend, to grasp the true extent of something. Herbert argues that no one truly knows either the magnitude of sin or the magnitude of divine love apart from Christ.

In the second stanza, Herbert writes,

…let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A Man so wrung with pains

Mount Olivet is where Christ entered His agony in Gethsemane before His arrest. Herbert does not invite us to study sin through philosophy or introspection, but to look upon the suffering Christ. If we wish to know what sin truly is, we must ask what it cost God.

The poem reaches its climax with the image of the winepress:

Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain To hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein.

A press crushes grapes, and a vice squeezes its victim without mercy. Sin is the burden Christ bears for us, as He suffers under God’s righteous judgment against sin in our place. Herbert even personifies pain as a hunter pursuing its prey through every vein of our Lord’s body. Sin is revealed not as a trivial fault but as the terrible burden laid upon the Lamb of God.

The final stanza mirrors the second. If one wishes to know love rather than sin, Herbert again directs us to Christ—this time upon the cross.

Love is that liquor sweet and most divine, Which my God feels as blood, but I as wine.

The soldier’s spear opens Christ’s side like a cask of wine, recalling St. John’s account of the Passion: “But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water” (John 19:34, ESV). Christ experiences blood, suffering, and death; the believer receives life, forgiveness, and the sweet wine of salvation. It is a marvelous paradox. What Christ endures as agony, His people receive as grace.

I could not help but think of Luther while reading Herbert. Early in The Bondage of the Will, Luther insists that true theology is not speculation about hidden things but the knowledge of God revealed in Christ crucified. Likewise, Herbert teaches that the deepest realities in the universe cannot be discovered by the philosophers who measure mountains or fathom seas. They are known only at Gethsemane and Golgotha. There we finally learn both the dreadful weight of our sin and the immeasurable greatness of God’s love.

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