George Herbert’s poetry has given those who have taken part in our Lent Course much to reflect and ponder. One of his deep insights is the way God breaks into the mundane, ‘makes drudgery divine’ – if only we have the heart to see:
All may of Thee partake:
Nothing can be so mean,
Which with his tincture – ‘for Thy sake’
Will not grow bright and clean.
Last week I saw the film Perfect Days. It follows the daily routine of Hirayama, a man of few words. Every day he wakes in his simple apartment to the sound of a woman sweeping the path outside. He rolls up his bedding neatly, cleans his teeth, trims his moustache, waters the small plants he is growing, pulls on his blue overalls, and sets out in his little van to start work, diligently cleaning the public toilets of Tokyo. Few people during his day acknowledge him. He is the kind of unseen worker we all depend upon but never notice or want to notice. It should be a crushingly bleak film — the same routine, the same toilets each day. Yet here is a man who looks at the world and sees with his heart. And as we watch him, we too begin to see the goodness in the ordinary — the perfect day — in the routine of everyday. We notice his kindness like the small boy does, who turns to wave to him, or his niece, who comes to visit.
The Japanese word komorebi, literally translated, means ‘sunlight leaking through trees’, and that’s what we experience in this film the light breaking through the shadows. It speaks of a profound connection with nature, with humanity, and the necessity to pause, to take the time to absorb and appreciate the perfection of tiny, seemingly insignificant details. During these next days I pray that we too may make space to pause to contemplate the nature of our own lives, the shadows and the light — the wonder even within the ordinary and the struggle — the path with Christ through death to new life.
Revd Richard Carter
