The Golem Considers The Lilies

The pot plants in front of the bay window are in full bloom at the moment. They add some welcome colour and interest to an otherwise dull exterior. The Golem can only see their outlines from his crystal enclave, and so we go out together to examine them more closely. “Consider the lilies,” I say, since that’s what most of them are, this year.

The Golem does so. As he surveys the scene, I add: “Of course, these are not the lilies of the field, as in the Sermon on the Mount. They would be wildflowers, such as the madonna lily, or Hyacinthus orientalis, or even the red Lilium chalcedonicum…” “Yes, I’ve noticed you dipping into the Zondervan Illustrated Bible Dictionary - at last. About time, too, considering how much it cost you.”

Perhaps he thinks that it isn’t important to chase down all you can about the context of an illustration or a quotation. When I ask him, he says: “No, it’s good - as long as you don’t let your studies blind you to the main point of the passage.” “And do you think I’ve done that?”

And perhaps the Golem smiles, or perhaps he doesn’t. It’s hard to tell when a man is made of clay. “Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.” “A familiar proverbial saying. So?” Does he sigh, or is it just the breeze among the beech leaves? “It’s the last line of Sonnet 94.”

I go inside to check. He’s right. Most annoying. I return. “Well, yes, but why mention it?” “You were complaining about it last Sunday night, at length, on the journey home from church.” He’s right again. I was giving my companion an account of some of the pastors, preachers, youth leaders, and various prominent persons (in an assortment of churches in the past) that I’d trusted and admired - people who turned out to be (amongst other things) abusers, adulterers, liars, thieves, and cheats. So many mendacious reprobates!

Yes, it fits. “Lilies that fester…” Their actions were so far from what I’d expected from men (and a few women) with such a seemingly commendable Christian testimony that they left a lasting impression on me. If they’d been just ordinary and ungodly folk - “dozy sinners”, as my father used to say - then it would hardly have mattered. “And you said that these experiences had contributed to the clinical depression from which you used to suffer.”

I’m sure that they did. “Do you doubt it?” “No. However, consider 1 Corinthians 10.6.” “You’ll have to remind me.” “Now these things took place as examples for us, that we might not desire evil as they did.”

By now the Golem is knee-deep in one of the fragrant blooms. He seems to have forgotten me for a few minutes. Then: “Well?” “Well what?” “What did you learn from these disappointments?” It’s my turn to sigh. “I learned not to make the same mistakes.” “Quite so. But were there not other times when you said to yourself - in your heart of hearts - that your own sins were insignificant when compared with their considerable trespasses? And if so, it didn’t matter much if you carried on with them?”

This is not a question that I want to answer. The Golem presses on, nevertheless. “And when some of them seemed to get away with such things, did it not cause you to think that the God that you say you serve is perhaps a little unjust?” No, I’m not rising to that one, either.

The sun is still shining, but there seems to be a chill in the air. Is it time to go back inside? The Golem doesn’t think so. “Perhaps you spent hours in prayer for these reprobates, asking your God to have mercy upon them, to extend towards them that kindness and that grace that He was so ready to extend towards you - and to grant them repentance and reconciliation with Himself?” He pauses. “Or were you so angry that you didn’t want to waste any more time on them unless it was in imprecatory prayer?”

I sit down on the low stone wall that separates our small front garden from next door’s, and I look from one terracotta pot to another. The nearest one contains tiger flowers (Tigridia pavonia) which bloom for one day only, and then they wither away, as per Matthew 6.30. The pot next to it has a few meagre sprays of little purple flowers, but I can’t remember their name, and I’ve lost the packet they came in. Another contains dahlias, with several showy, saucer-sized blooms. But, no doubt about it, the lilies are the most impressive and the most fragrant of all the flowers on show.

However, they seem to have lost some of their lustre, for the moment.

Back inside, the Golem returns to his crystal enclave, and I go into the kitchen to prepare the tea and listen to Southside Johnny’s third album, “Hearts Of Stone”, produced by Miami Steve Van Zandt - but you knew that, didn’t you? And then it’s time to exercise. “And after that,” I tell myself, “I will go back to my bible, and reconsider the lilies of the field - whatever species they may have been.” As I descend the steep stone steps to the cellar where the weights are, I remember another old saying with literary associations.

“It’s never too late to mend.”

So we trust.