The Voyage of the Dawn Treader: The End of the World

The final chapter of The Voyage of the DawnTreader (Book 5 of The Chronicles of Narnia series by C. S. Lewis) brings the ship to the end of the world.  In order to awaken the sleeping Lords for which the quest had launched, the ship must reach the end of the world and one passenger cross over to Aslan’s country.  Reepicheap, the brave and noble mouse, volunteers to be that sacrificial person. 

 

The ship goes as far as it can navigate, and Reepicheap, Edmund, Lucy and Eustace embark on a boat to the end.  Edmund, Lucy, and Eustace will only go so far as to reach the portal to cross back from Narnia to Earth, but Reepicheap will cross the end of the world into Aslan’s country.  Caspian had wanted to go, but as King he could not abdicate his throne.  So he stays behind.  This is such a wonderful passage. 

 

He Caspian] cheered up a little later on, but it was a grievous parting on both sides and I will not dwell on it. About two o'clock in the afternoon, well victualled and watered (though they thought they would need neither food nor drink) and with Reepicheep's coracle on board, the boat pulled away from the Dawn Treader to row through the endless carpet of lilies. The Dawn Treader flew all her flags and hung out her shields to honour their departure. Tall and big and homelike she looked from their low position with the lilies all round them. And even before she was out of sight they saw her turn and begin rowing slowly westward. Yet though Lucy shed a few tears she could not feel it as much as you might have expected. The light, the silence, the tingling smell of the Silver Sea, even (in some odd way) the loneliness itself, were too exciting.

 

There was no need to row, for the current drifted them steadily to the east. None of them slept nor ate. All that night and all next day they glided eastward, and when the third day dawned—with a brightness you or I could not bear even if we had dark glasses on—they saw a wonder ahead. It was as if a wall stood up between them and the sky, a greenish-grey, trembling, shimmering wall. Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they saw it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colours. Then they knew that the wall was really a long, tall wave—a wave endlessly fixed in one place as you may often see at the edge of a waterfall. It seemed to be about thirty feet high, and the current was gliding them swiftly towards it. You might have supposed they would have thought of their danger. They didn't. I don't think anyone could have in their position. For now they saw something not only behind the wave but behind the sun. They could not have seen even the sun if their eyes had not been strengthened by the water of the Last Sea. But now they could look at the rising sun and see it clearly and see things beyond it. What they saw—eastward, beyond the sun—was a range of mountains. It was so high that either they never saw the top of it or they forgot it. None of them remembers seeing any sky in that direction. And the mountains must really have been outside the world. For any mountains even a quarter or a twentieth of that height ought to have had ice and snow on them. But these were warm and green and full of forests and waterfalls however high you looked. And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterwards. Lucy could only say, "It would break your heart." "Why," said I, "was it so sad?" "Sad!! No," said Lucy.

 

No one in that boat doubted that they were seeing beyond the End of the World into Aslan's country.

 

At that moment, with a crunch, the boat ran aground. The water was too shallow now even for it. "This," said Reepicheep, "is where I go on alone."

 

They did not even try to stop him, for everything now felt as if it had been fated or had happened before. They helped him to lower his little coracle. Then he took off his sword ("I shall need it no more," he said) and flung it far away across the lilied sea. Where it fell it stood upright with the hilt above the surface. Then he bade them good-bye, trying to be sad for their sakes; but he was quivering with happiness. Lucy, for the first and last time, did what she had always wanted to do, taking him in her arms and caressing him. Then hastily he got into his coracle and took his paddle, and the current caught it and away he went, very black against the lilies. But no lilies grew on the wave; it was a smooth green slope. The coracle went more and more quickly, and beautifully it rushed up the wave's side. For one split second they saw its shape and Reepicheep's on the very top. Then it vanished, and since that moment no one can truly claim to have seen Reepicheep the Mouse. But my belief is that he came safe to Aslan's country and is alive there to this day.

 

As the sun rose the sight of those mountains outside the world faded away. The wave remained but there was only blue sky behind it.

Of course this is allegorical.  Aslan is God and Aslan’s country is paradise, located at the farthest east possible.  I was not familiar with the term, “coracle.”  From Wikipedia: “A coracle is a small, rounded, lightweight boat of the sort traditionally used in Wales, and also in parts of the west of Ireland and also particularly on the River Boyne, and in Scotland, particularly the River Spey.”   Reepicheap rides the wave and just suddenly disappears, almost as if he’s assumed into heaven. 

 

Sunday Meditation: The Sermon on the Plain Continues

Last week we heard the beginning of Jesus’s Sermon on the Plain.  We heard Luke’s version of the Beatitudes.  Just as in Matthew’s Gospel, Luke’s sermon continues beyond the Beatitudes.  On the Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time in Year C, we get the rest of the sermon.  As we hear, Jesus continues what some have called “the Great Reversal.” 

 

Jesus said to his disciples:

“To you who hear I say,

love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,

bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.

To the person who strikes you on one cheek,

offer the other one as well,

and from the person who takes your cloak,

do not withhold even your tunic.

Give to everyone who asks of you,

and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back.

Do to others as you would have them do to you.

For if you love those who love you,

what credit is that to you?

Even sinners love those who love them.

And if you do good to those who do good to you,

what credit is that to you?

Even sinners do the same.

If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment,

what credit is that to you?

Even sinners lend to sinners,

and get back the same amount.

But rather, love your enemies and do good to them,

and lend expecting nothing back;

then your reward will be great

and you will be children of the Most High,

for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.

Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

 

“Stop judging and you will not be judged.

Stop condemning and you will not be condemned.

Forgive and you will be forgiven.

Give, and gifts will be given to you;

a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing,

will be poured into your lap.

For the measure with which you measure

will in return be measured out to you.”

~Lk 6:27-38

Dr. Brant Pitre explains how this is a radical love.

 

As a pastoral homily, I liked Fr. Patrick Briscoe’s connection with this radical love with the lives of the saints.

 

As I just posted the other day, I think the life of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati would be the perfect saint that Fr. Patrick alludes to.  I think his witness really exemplifies this Gospel passage.

 

Sunday Meditation: “For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”

 

I love that quote and it always reminds me of the Shakespeare play where he uses it in the title, Measure for Measure.” 

For the hymn, let’s go with John Michael Talbot’s “The Greatest ‘Tis Love.”

 

Faith Filled Friday: Blessed Pier Giorgio’s Letter to a Friend

This is a letter written almost exactly one hundred years ago from Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati to a friend.  We know that it was written early in the year 1925 since the letter in the opening paragraph refers to the year of Jubilee, and 1925 is the only year Frassati lived that had a Jubilee year.  From the reference to Advent, which seems to have just passed, the letter must have been written early in the year, possibly January or February.  Later this year, Blessed Pier Giorgio will be fully canonized into a saint. 

Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati was a young man from Turin, Italy who came from a prominent family but spent his spare time and money secretly helping the poor. He was a devout young Catholic, a mining engineer, a Lay Dominican, a social activist, a jokester, a mountain climber, a pipe and cigar smoker, and a friend to all.  He died at the tender age of 24, but after his death his life of charity became public, even surprising his parents.  He was beatified by Pope St. John Paul II in 1990 and is slated to be canonized this summer by Pope Francis.  There is a website devoted to his memory where you can find a lot more information about his wonderful life.  

 

As a Lay Dominican I hold a special bond with Blessed Pier Giorgio.  Not only was he a Lay Dominican, but also like me he was an engineering student and a person who studied literature and theology.  We have a lot in common.  You will see references to all that in this excerpt of one of his letters, a letter to a friend.  Another thing you could notice in the letter is how affectionate a friend he was.  He starts the letter with some reference to a possible bit of friction with the friend, all of which seems nothing to him. 

 

Dearest friend, no ill feelings, as they are not worthy of the Holy Year; since the Vicar of Christ has indeed opened the Holy Doors I offer you the olive branch which is the sign of peace….In fact, during Advent I prepared for the Holy Year by reading Saint Augustine, reading which I haven’t yet finished, but from which I have received immense happiness, a profound joy, which until now unfortunately had not penetrated my soul.  I’m also doing some literary studies…and then I’ll move to studies of philosophy, if I find a good translation of the works of Thomas Aquinas.  You see that my plans for the Holy Year are grand.  I believe that I had thus found a better way to alternate my boring study of mechanical technology with delightful readings.

 

And what are you doing?  When will you be coming?  Turin is anxious to hear from you….When will you return?

 

The year has begun well, after toasting it with my family I went to Holy Martyrs Church; there in the church, crowded with people, we prayed that there would be peace in Italy and peace among us.  And this peace, which is the burning desire of us all, we hope will come this year in which the graces of the Lord are multiplied….

 

I am delighted to close my student career in such a beautiful year.  And now I should bid you farewell, because study is calling me back to work and meanwhile all the best for a good prosecution, best wishes above all that you will always possess the True Peace, which is the best gift that one can possess on this earth.

The excerpt comes from the magazine Magnificat, January 2025 (Vol. 26, No. 11) edition, pages 130-31.

I love this excerpt.  We see so much into his personality.  He was studious like a good Dominican should be, and he was very gregarious and very humble.  When I pray for the well being of my friends, I appeal to the intercession of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati.  I don’t know if he will have this patronage, but I consider him the patron saint of friendship.  If I had realized at the time, I might have taken the name Pier Giorgio as my Lay Dominican name.  If you are a friend of mine, I have put you in my prayers through the intercession of Pier Giorgio.

I had the good fortune last year to come across a rosary with the centerpiece comprising of a picture of Pier Giorgio and a relic (third class I think) of his.  I have been using it at my Lay Dominican chapter meetings for the praying of our rosary.  Here is a picture of it.  First with the front of his centerpiece, and second of the flip side.

The relic side states “Ex Indumentis” which is Latin for “from the clothes.”  Apparently it’s from a piece from his clothing.

Sadly, Pier Giorgio would pass away later in the year of 1925, on the fourth of July, I think. 

Blessed Pier Giorgio, soon to be saint, pray for us and pray for my friends.

Sunday Meditation: The Sermon of the Great Reversal

 

No, the Sermon of the Great Reversal is not something you have missed in your learning of the New Testament.  It’s my renaming of Luke’s Sermon on the Plain, Luke’s version of the Beatitudes.  On the Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year C, we are presented with Jesus’s great sermon of Blessedness.  I call it the Sermon of the Great Reversal because Jesus reverses the values of the world and presents us the values of the Kingdom of God.

 

Jesus came down with the Twelve

and stood on a stretch of level ground

with a great crowd of his disciples

and a large number of the people

from all Judea and Jerusalem

and the coastal region of Tyre and Sidon.

And raising his eyes toward his disciples he said:

            “Blessed are you who are poor,

                        for the kingdom of God is yours.

            Blessed are you who are now hungry,

                        for you will be satisfied.

            Blessed are you who are now weeping,

                        for you will laugh.

            Blessed are you when people hate you,

                        and when they exclude and insult you,

                        and denounce your name as evil

                        on account of the Son of Man.

Rejoice and leap for joy on that day!

Behold, your reward will be great in heaven.

For their ancestors treated the prophets in the same way.

            But woe to you who are rich,

                        for you have received your consolation.

            Woe to you who are filled now,

                        for you will be hungry.

            Woe to you who laugh now,

                        for you will grieve and weep.

            Woe to you when all speak well of you,

                        for their ancestors treated the false prophets in this way.”

~Lk 6:17, 20-26

 

Fr. Geoffrey Plant instructs us on the language intricacies of this passage, and then enlightens us to the Great Reversal.

This is going to seem odd that Dr. Brant Pitre is going to provide the pastoral explanation of the passage, but he does.  In his explanation of the passage, he connects it with the carrying of our daily crosses.

 

Where you find happiness is through the detachment of earthly goods.  Does Luke mean to imply a spiritual detachment or an actual detachment?  This might be more controversial, but I think he means actual detachment, actual poverty, actual hunger, actual mourning, and actual rejection.  After all, isn’t that Christ’s life?

 

Sunday Meditation: “Behold, your reward will be great in heaven.”

 

John Michael Talbot’s “The Beatitudes” is the proper hymn here.

 

 

Movie: Looking at Heaven: The Life of St. José Sánchez Del Rio

I’m not much of a movie goer, but when my Adult Faith Formation class at my parish decided to skip our regular Monday meeting for a movie I didn’t have much of a choice.  So we canceled the class a couple of Mondays ago to attend a movie at one of our local theaters dedicated to Catholic Movie Night.  I am not sure if Catholic Movie Night is a once per month event or ad hoc, but they scheduled a Catholic movie for this particular Monday night, and it wouldn’t be in the theaters otherwise.  The move was Looking at Heaven: The Life of St. José Sánchez Del Rio, the life of a teenage Catholic martyr during the The Cristero War in Mexico during the 1920s. 

The Cristero War was a rebellion/civil war within Mexico during a time the Civil Government tried to squash and eliminate the Catholic faith.  Churches were closed.  Priests were hunted down and killed if caught celebrating Mass.  The rebellion became known as the Cristo Rey (Christ the King) movement and their exclamation was Viva Cristo Rey!  A more comprehensive movie of the rebellion was produced in 2012 titled For Greater Glory.  

Looking at Heaven has a narrower story of a young man, José Sánchez del Río, who at the age of fourteen joined the Cristero movement, was captured, tortured, and martyred for his faith.  The movie is in Spanish with subtitles, but I will say I had no problem following the dialogue.  José came from a devout Catholic family.  His two older brothers had already joined the Cristero soldiers, and when at the point that José could no longer tolerate the persecution toward Catholics joined himself.  The priest who led the Catholic group to the movie theater said the movie depiction was very true to the known facts.

Let’s go through a couple of video clips here.  First there is a biographical clip on the life of José Sánchez del Río.

 

Next is the Trailer for the movie.

 

Finally if you want to see the whole two hour movie, it’s currently available on YouTube. 

 

Edit: It was taken down.  Look for it every so often, you may find it back.

The movie is beautifully produced.  The musical score was so perfect.  The acting outstanding, especially given the young actors.  The cinematography was beautiful, with interesting close in scenes and lavish outdoor vistas.  And finally the story was wonderfully rendered.  It was a beautiful, heart moving movie.  I highly recommend it.  Five stars!

 

Lines I Wished I’d Written: The Storm from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis

When he was much younger I used to read to Matthew one book a year from The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis.  The Narnia series is comprised of seven books, and I read to Matthew the first four.  I was going in the newly prescribed sequence as they have been currently laid out.  This new sequence I have found out is actually controversial, and, if I had to recommend a sequence, go by the order in which they were written.  The newly prescribed order goes by chronological order of the time in Narnia.  This new order doesn’t always have continuity with the previous book of the sequence.  It’s not a big deal since the stories are relatively self-contained but a reader might miss a cue established in the previous book.  Be that as it may, I read them in the new order not knowing the logic of the sequencing. 

The fourth one, the last one I read to Matthew, Prince Caspian, we finished in 2021.  You can see the links above in my annual reads.  Matthew was ten years old at this point, and he rebelled.  He rebelled on the start of the fifth book, rebelled against me reading to him, rebelled against reading books in general, and rebelled against stories!  Was it me?  LOL, it might have been.  Reading to a child is supposed to be good for them.  And perhaps he have better grades if he didn’t rebel.

The fifth book was to be The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  I decided I have to finish the Narnia series with or without him, and so it will have to be without him.  I started reading the The Voyage of the Dawn Treader a few days ago, and I’m about half way through already since I’ve had some forced time in bed.  The books are fast and fun reads.  This is the book that introduces Eustice, the Pevensie children’s distempered cousin.  The story begins with Edmund, Lucy, and Eustice looking at a painting of an old sailing ship at sea, and the painting soon becomes the portal into the Narnia world.  The three are sucked into the ocean in the image, rescued by the crew of the Dawn Treader, and find on board King Caspian of Narnia sailing on an adventure to locate the seven lost lords of Narnia.  The three children, despite Eustice’s objection (but what can he do) go on with King Caspian on this quest.

 

Early in the quest there is a storm at sea, and I felt this was just marvelous writing from C.S. Lewis.  Let’s look at it.

 

But this pleasant time did not last. There came an evening when Lucy, gazing idly astern at the long furrow or wake they were leaving behind them, saw a great rack of clouds building itself up in the west with amazing speed. Then a gap was torn in it and a yellow sunset poured through the gap. All the waves behind them seemed to take on unusual shapes and the sea was a drab or yellowish colour like dirty canvas. The air grew cold. The ship seemed to move uneasily as if she felt danger behind her. The sail would be flat and limp one minute and wildly full the next. While she was noticing these things and wondering at a sinister change which had come over the very noise of the wind, Drinian cried, "All hands on deck." In a moment everyone became frantically busy. The hatches were battened down, the galley fire was put out, men went aloft to reef the sail. Before they had finished the storm struck them. It seemed to Lucy that a great valley in the sea opened just before their bows, and they rushed down into it, deeper down than she would have believed possible. A great grey hill of water, far higher than the mast, rushed to meet them; it looked certain death but they were tossed to the top of it. Then the ship seemed to spin round. A cataract of water poured over the deck; the poop and forecastle were like two islands with a fierce sea between them. Up aloft the sailors were lying out along the yard desperately trying to get control of the sail. A broken rope stood out sideways in the wind as straight and stiff as if it was a poker.

 

"Get below, Ma'am," bawled Drinian. And Lucy, knowing that landsmen—and landswomen—are a nuisance to the crew, began to obey. It was not easy. The Dawn Treader was listing terribly to starboard and the deck sloped like the roof of a house. She had to clamber round to the top of the ladder, holding on to the rail, and then stand by while two men climbed up it, and then get down it as best she could. It was well she was already holding on tight for at the foot of the ladder another wave roared across the deck, up to her shoulders. She was already almost wet through with spray and rain but this was colder. Then she made a dash for the cabin door and got in and shut out for a moment the appalling sight of the speed with which they were rushing into the dark, but not of course the horrible confusion of creakings, groanings, snappings, clatterings, roarings and boomings which only sounded more alarming below than they had done on the poop.

 

And all next day and all the next it went on. It went on till one could hardly even remember a time before it had begun. And there always had to be three men at the tiller and it was as much as three could do to keep any kind of a course. And there always had to be men at the pump. And there was hardly any rest for anyone, and nothing could be cooked and nothing could be dried, and one man was lost overboard, and they never saw the sun.

 

The short declarative sentences, the sensory nouns, the active verbs all create a prose that puts the reader into the action.  The nautical terms give it a sense of reality.  I had to look up what “the poop” was on a ship—the rear deck.  I had to look up “reefing the sail”—folding the sail over to reduce the area of the canvas to reduce the force of the wind.  I had to look up “forecastle”—the raised cabin on the forward deck of the ship.  And by the way, it’s not pronounced “fore castle.”  It’s pronounced “folk-sul.”  I wonder how that came about.

The great valley in the waves, the great hill of water higher than the mast, the cataract of water over flooding the center of the ship, the listing of the ship, the spray of waves, the pelting of rain, and Lucy holding onto the rail struggling to get inside in the dark generates an intense scene.  The “horrible confusion of creakings, groanings, snappings, clatterings, roarings and boomings” adds sound to the visual imagery. 

This havoc goes on for three days: “And all next day and all the next it went on. It went on till one could hardly even remember a time before it had begun.”  One could feel the immense weariness that the characters had to undergo.  It’s such a well written scene.

Personal Note: I got Covid, Urgh

Today is Monday the 10th.  So last Wednesday night (the 5^th) it felt a little funny in my chest.  I thought I might be coming down with something.  I woke up Thursday nauseous with dry heaves.  I even teleworked in the morning and took the afternoon sick.  Eventually I was just out of it.  It became hell.  The fever wasn’t high (less than 101F) but I wonder if I was even reading it right.  I was in a delirious state.  Waking up at one point I thought it was the next day. I noticed on Friday morning from my daily pill box that I had already taken Friday's meds.

It felt like my body was encircled by some electric charge and was just trying to survive.  He was ready to have me go to Emergency Room. My screaming out scared Matthew, who had come in the bedroom to check on me. Probably should have sent me to the ER. If it were me watching someone else in that state I would have too. I don’t think my wife ever realized what state I was in.  I had crawled into bed in the middle of the day and time seemed to vanish. 

I felt better on Friday morning but someone suggested I check for Covid. I had my wife pick up a test kit and sure enough I tested positive. I called my doctor and we set up a telehealth visit as they call it. He asked about my temperature (which was oscillating between normal and 101F), looked over my recent blood test on file, asked when I felt it come on, and prescribed Paxlovid.  Doctor said I should quarantine through Tuesday.  I still had recurring chills but after the first dose of Paxlovid that night I started to feel better. There was no fever on Saturday, Sunday, nor today, but a general weakness. 

Today even the nasal congestion seems to have let up.  I feel pretty well.  I happen to speak to a nurse today—about something else actually—and she said that today the flu might be harsher than Covid.  Hmm, I would agree except for what I experienced on Thursday afternoon.  When I spoke to the doctor on Friday, he seemed surprised this was my first time getting Covid.  Is it that common that everyone gets it now?

###

The story has more to it than my experience.  My wife had been sick before me and was still coughing and occasionally feeling run down.  I told her she should check herself for Covid, so she got herself a test kit and also tested positive.  So this was beginning to make sense.  Her mother has been in a nursing home for over a month and a half.  More on that below.  But the floor of my mother-in-law’s room had a Covid outbreak last week, and still does.  My mother-in-law didn’t get Covid but my wife must have picked it up in one of her daily visits.  Nursing homes are just germ magnets, depositories, and dispensaries. 

My wife’s symptoms were nothing as severe as mine, though hers seem to be lasting longer, probably because she has not been prescribed Paxlovid.  This makes me wonder why my body reacted so to the Covid initially.  It reminds me of my first reaction to the Covid-19 vaccine which I detailed here several years ago.  That post was titled, “Knocked on My Butt By the Vaccine.”  Perhaps I’m more reactive to Covid than others.

###

My mother-in-law fell at the beginning of the December.  She fractured her skull, had a brain bleed, they resolved the bleed, but that developed into blood clots, blood clots got into her lungs which nearly killed her, but they resolved that.  You can see I've honed that story down to its bare elements from frequent retelling.  She was three weeks in the ICU.  The day before Christmas Eve she was discharged to a nursing home, and she's been there since.  As you can imagine, this was pretty challenging, especially for my wife, and it still is. 

As it happens, the nursing/rehab facility is very close to our house.  It's less than a mile.  We go back and forth regularly.  The first time she seemed out of it but in time her brain seemed to be getting sharper. Initially she responded very slow and deliberately but now seems to have total comprehension. It took her a while to get up out of bed.  There was nothing physically wrong with her body but perhaps atrophy from being in bed so long.  After a good month of rehab now she has been able to walk up and down the floor with a walker and a cane, go up and down stairs, and fully function as a solitary person.  Today we even got the great news she will be discharged from rehab facility at the end of next week.

###

So let’s end with a song that came to mind as I reflected on my Thursday afternoon delirium.  It’s a song that came off the Rolling Stones’ album that came out last year, “Sweet Sounds of Heaven” of the album Hackney Diamonds.   Many of you know I’m a big Rolling Stones fan, and, while I would agree their later years have been of mixed quality, this album is a glorious return to what I think is just short of their all time great ones.  I highly recommend Hackney Diamonds and perhaps one day I’ll have a post on it.

For now I’m going to highlight “Sweet Sounds of Heaven,” a gospel tune that is uncharacteristically Christian in outlook for the Stones.  Featured on the record are Lady Gaga (vocals), Stevie Wonder (piano and organ), and saxophonist James King.  Wow is not nearly expressive enough.  Here’s the song first, but then I’ll explain why this song came to mind after.

 

Here are most of the lyrics as well.

 

Sweet Sounds of Heaven

(Jagger/Richards)

 

I hear the sweet, sweet sounds of Heaven

Fallin' down, fallin' down to this Earth

I hear the sweet, sweetest sounds of Heaven

Driftin' down, driftin' down to this Earth

 

Bless the father, bless the son

Hear the sound of the drums

As it echoes through the valley

And it bursts, yeah

Let no woman or child

Go hungry tonight

Please protect us from the pain

And the hurt, yeah

 

I smell the sweet scents, sweet

Sweet scents of Heaven, Heaven

Tumblin' down, tumblin' down

Tumblin' down to the Earth (Oh)

I hear the sweet sounds, sweet sounds

The sweet sounds, ooh, the sweet sounds of children

And they're praisin', praisin'

The land of their birth (No)

 

No, I'm not, not goin' to Hell

In some dusty motel

And I'm not, not goin' down

In the dirt (Yes, yes, yes)

I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna laugh, I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry

Eat the bread, drink the wine

'Cause I'm finally, finally quenchin'

My thirst, yeah

 

You can't have a light without a little shadow, yeah

Always need a target for your bow and arrow

I want to be drenched in the rain of your heavenly love

Oh, yeah, c'mon (Oh)

 

Let the music, let the music play loud, play loud

Let it burst, let it burst through the clouds, through the clouds

And we all feel the heat

Of the sun, yeah

Yeah, let us sing, let us shout, let us shout

Let us all stand up proud

Let the old still believe

That they're young, yeah

 

Sweet, sweet sound

 

Sounds so sweet, oh, so sweet

Sounds so sweet, so sweet

Heaven, Heaven

Down

Fallin' down, fallin' down

To this Earth

 

That’s pretty religious for Mick Jagger.  You know he supposedly had converted to Catholicism for his first wife, though he’s never spoken about any religious upbringing, so I doubt it was much.

So why am I reminded of this song?  Well, lying in bed in a delirious state felt so isolating, so other worldly that it felt the end was a possibility.  The verses, “No, I'm not, not goin' to Hell/In some dusty motel/And I'm not, not goin' down/In the dirt” resonate.  If you’ve ever been a way alone (business trips for me) in some crappy hotel, the isolation feels overwhelming with perhaps a sense that if I died here no one would really know.  It’s actually a horrible feeling that I’ve had more than once.  Perhaps in that delirious state, eyes half open in a darkened bedroom, alone and feeling almost out of body, might be as close to a premonition of death as one gets.  At least as I’ve gotten.

But then the sweet grace, the sweet sounds, the sweet sense of heaven came down and revived me.  Thank you Lord.

Edit: It's unclear whether Mick Jagger converted to Catholicism or even had a need to convert.  From what I found on the internet, Mick Jagger's father, Basil Fanshawe “Joe” Jagger, had a Catholic funeral.  There are places that claim Mick was raised Catholic.  Still I doubt religion was a big part of his upbringing.