Welcome again to Lent with Niggle. This is the sixth and last installment. Did you miss the first, second, third, fourth or fifth installment? No problem, here are the links:
As far as the story line goes, here is where we are at in this sixth week of Lent:
Niggle and Parish, who shows up in this beautiful landscape just after Niggle realizes that he needs his old neighbor, however annoying he used to be, set about developing the country around Niggle’s Tree together.
One day Niggle was busy planting a quickset hedge, and Parish was lying on the grass near by, looking attentively at a beautiful and shapely little yellow flower growing in the green turf. Niggle had put a lot of them among the roots of his Tree long ago. Suddenly Parish looked up: his face was glistening in the sun, and he was smiling. ‘This is grand!’ he said. ‘I oughtn’t to be here, really. Thank you for putting in a word for me,’ ‘Nonsense,’ said Niggle. ‘I don’t remember what I said, but anyway it was not nearly enough.’ ‘Oh yes, it was,’ said Parish. ‘It got me out a lot sooner. That Second Voice, you know: he had me sent here; he said you had asked to see me. I owe it to you.’ ‘No. You owe it to the Second Voice,’ said Niggle. We both do.’
(…)
The time came when the house in the hollow, the garden, the grass, the forest, the lake, and all the country was nearly complete, in its own proper fashion. The Great Tree was in full blossom. ‘We shall finish this evening,’ said Parish one day. ‘After that we will go for a really long walk.’ They set out the next day, and they walked until they came right through the distances to the Edge. (…) They saw a man, he looked like a shepherd; he was walking towards them, down the grass slopes that led up the Mountains. (…) ‘Are you a guide,’ Parish asked. ‘Could you tell me the name of this country?’ ‘Don’t you know?’ said the man. ‘It is Niggle Country. It is Niggle’s picture, or most of it: a little of it is now Parish’s Garden.’ ‘Niggle’s Picture!’ said Parish in astonishment. Did YOU think of all this, Niggle? I never knew you were so clever.’
(…)
‘It is proving very useful indeed,’ said the Second Voice. ‘As a holiday, and a refreshment. It is splendid for convalescence; and not only for that, for many it is the best introduction to the Mountains. It works wonders in some cases. I am sending more and more there. They seldom have to come back.’ ‘No, that is so,’ said the First Voice. ‘I think we shall have to give the region a name. What do you propose?’ ‘The Porter settled that some time ago,’ said the Second Voice. ‘TRAIN FOR NIGGLE’S PARISH IN THE BAY: He has shouted that for a long while now. Niggle’s Parish. I sent a message to both of them to tell them.’ ‘What did they say?’ ‘They both laughed. Laughed – the Mountains rang with it!’
All’s well that ends well. May it be thus for you.
Welcome again to Lent with Niggle. This is the fifth installment. Did you miss the first, second, third or fourth installment? No problem, here are the links:
As far as the story line goes, here is where we are at in this fifth week of Lent:
Niggle is, in fact, let out of the ‘Workhouse’ and ushered onto a train again – a pleasant little train, painted in cheerful colors. Upon asking where he is going to go, the Porter tells him that his destination does not have a name yet. Hint: You will learn the name in our sixth and last installment of “Lent with Niggle”, or can find it out earlier by reading the final paragraph of the short story Leaf by Niggle.
After a short ride through a pretty landscape under blue skies, Niggle arrives in said unnamed place. It has neither station nor town, only a green embankment and a wicket-gate with a yellow bicycle with Niggle’s name standing by it.
Niggle pushed open the gate, jumped on the bicycle, and went bowling downhill in the spring sunshine. Before long he found that the path on which he had started had disappeared, and the bicycle was rolling along over a marvellous turf. It was green and close; and yet he could see every blade distinctly. He seemed to remember having seen or dreamed of that sweep of grass somewhere or other. The curves of the land were familiar somehow. Yes: the ground was becoming level. as it should, and now, of course, it was beginning to rise again. A great green shadow came between him and the sun. Niggle looked up, and fell off his bicycle. Before him stood the Tree, his Tree, finished. If you could say that of a Tree that was alive, its leaves opening, its branches growing and bending in the wind that Niggle so often felt or guessed, and had so often failed to catch. He gazed at the Tree, and slowly he lifted his arms and opened them wide. ‘It’s a gift!’ he said. He was referring to his art, and also to the result; but he was using the word quite literally. (…) Niggle walked about, but he was not merely pottering. He was looking round carefully. The Tree was finished, though not finished with – ‘Just the other way about to what it used to be,’ he thought.
It appears that Niggle arrived precisely where he had spent most of his life. The country now before him is the world he created, in his own head as well as on his canvas. While Niggle was wholly unprepared for his final journey, he had spent the greater part of his life shaping the world he would journey to. Niggle’s pursuit was artistic in nature. He craved Beauty (with a capital B) and strove to express this craving, however imperfectly he went about doing so. This is why, when all his life’s dross is burned off in the crucible of the Workhouse, the refined Niggle enters a country of such beauty.
O Sanctum Sacramentum, Corpus et Sanguis, Anima et Divinitas, adoramus Te.
Offerimus praeclarae majestati Tuae de Tuis donis ac datis Hostiam puram, Hostiam sanctam, Hostiam immaculatam, Panem sanctum vitae aeternae et Calicem salutis perpetua.
Alleluia Veni Sancte Spiritus Reple tuorum corda fidelium Et tui amoris In eis ignem accende.
Welcome again to Lent with Niggle. This is the fourth installment. Did you miss the first, second, or third installment? No problem, here are the links:
As far as the story line goes, here is where we are at in this fourth week of Lent:
Niggle goes on his final journey and ends up in the ‘Workhouse’, given that he comes equipped with – well, nothing, in fact. There he is left alone for the most part and has to follow instructions on every aspect of his existence. This existence, once he has recovered from his illness, consists in work and rest, all by himself with no time outside, and all windows pointing inward.
Being Niggle – that is to say, a man who would be inclined to much distraction, ‘niggling’ away his time by obsessing about details and worrying about all kinds of things – his Workhouse time teaches him, very slowly, to plan the work and work the plan, as they say. He learns to be quite useful and efficient, to pick up and put down a work at the ring of a bell, and to stop fretting about anything and everything. In short, it teaches him how to become master of his time as well as his thoughts. Thus, Niggle learns to derive a degree of satisfaction from his productivity – “bread instead of jam.“
Finally, after a short episode of exceedingly exhausting, mindless labor, Niggle is ordered to rest completely. Lying on his bed in the dark, he becomes aware of a conversation going on, seemingly nearby. New Voices are talking – about him:
‘Now the Niggle case,’ said a Voice, a severe voice, more severe than the doctor’s. ‘What was the matter with him?’ said a Second Voice, a voice that you might have called gentle, though it was not soft – it was a voice of authority, and sounded at once hopeful and sad. ‘What was the matter with Niggle? His heart was in the right place.’ ‘Yes, but it did not function properly,’ said the First Voice. ‘And his head was no screwed on tight enough: he hardly ever thought at all. Look at the time he wasted, not even amusing himself! He never got ready for his journey. He was moderately well off, and yet he arrived here almost destitute, and had to be put in the paupers’ wing. A bad case, I’m afraid. I think he should stay some time yet.’ ‘It would not do him any harm, perhaps,’ said the Second Voice. ‘But, of course, he is only a little man. He was never meant to be anything very much; and he was never very strong. Let us look at the Records. Yes. There are some favorable points, you know.’ ‘Perhaps,’ said the First Voice; ‘but very few that will really bear examination. (…) It is your task, of course, to put the best interpretation on the facts. Sometimes they will bear it. What do you propose?’ ‘I think it is a case for a little gentle treatment now,’ said the Second Voice. Niggle thought that he had never heard anything so generous as that Voice. It made Gentle Treatment sound like a load of rich gifts, and a summons to a King’s feast. Then suddenly Niggle felt ashamed. To hear that he was considered a case for Gentle Treatment overwhelmed him, and made him blush in the dark. (…) Niggle hid his blushes in the rough blanket. There was a silence. (…) ‘Well, I agree,’ Niggle heard the First Voice say in the distance. ‘Let him go on to the next stage. Tomorrow, if you like.’
What we see in this part of the story is Niggle’s time in Purgatory, and a sort of judgment at the end of it. The punishment fits the crime – having been a niggler in life who endlessly worried and fretted about things in his thoughts and complained – mostly under his breath – about his lot, he has to learn how to use his time and his thoughts well. A bit of laziness also needed to be weeded out, it would seem. And while he had been reasonably ‘well endowed’ when he started out, he ended up completely unprepared when his time came: He was spiritually destitute. All this proves that life offered Niggle lessons he did not learn, and opportunities he did not take. He ended up worse off than necessary, apparently.
But while life in the Workhouse is far from easy or pleasant for Niggle, it teaches him all those lessons he missed in life, preparing him for the next stage. Had he been more deliberate in life, one gets the impression his time in the Workhouse would have been both shorter and less disagreeable, if not been avoided it altogether. Of course, it also could have been much worse.
All this the Voices reflect on. To me, they represent two qualities of God, if you will: The First Voice represents the Just God, the Second Voice the Merciful God. It is our free choice in life which of them we wish to meet first and foremost when our time comes, as we learn from St. Faustina.
As far as the story line goes, here is where we are at in this third week of Lent:
The ‘Driver’, i.e. Niggle’s psychopomp, appears beside the Inspector we already met in the Second Installment of this little series.
‘But I can’t…’ Niggle said no more, for at that moment another man came in. Very much like the Inspector he was, almost his double: tall, dressed all in black. ‘Come along!’ he said. ‘I am the Driver.’ Niggle stumbled down from the ladder. His fever seemed to have come on again, and his head was swimming; he felt cold all over. ‘Driver? Driver?’ he chattered. ‘Driver of what?’ ‘You, and your carriage,’ said the man. ‘The carriage was ordered long ago. It has come at last. It’s waiting. You start today on your journey, you know.’ (…) ‘Oh dear!’ said poor Niggle, beginning to weep. ‘And [my tree is] not even finished!’ ‘Not finished!’ said the Driver. ‘Well, it’s finished with, as far as you’re concerned, at any rate. Come along!’ Niggle went, quite quietly. The Driver gave him no time to pack, saying that he ought to have done that before, and they would miss the train; so all Niggle could do was grab a little bag in the hall. He found that it contained only a paint box and a small book of his own sketches; neither food nor clothes. They caught the train all right. Niggle was feeling very tired and sleepy; he was hardly aware of what was going on when they bundled him into his compartment. He did not care much: he had forgotten where he was supposed to be going, or what he was going for. The train ran almost at once into a dark tunnel.
Death might be a scary thought, or at least uncomfortable, or maybe distasteful for you, like it is for Niggle, but think or feel what you may, there it is: We all will go one day, sooner or later, and preparation is required. It is hard to die well if you die unprepared.
In Tolkien’s Silmarillion, he describes death as having been a gift to man, but with time it became ever harder for man to appreciate it:
But the sons of Men die indeed, and leave the world; wherefore they are called the Guests, or the Strangers. Death is their fate, the gift of Ilúvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy. But Melkor has cast his shadow upon it, and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope. Yet of old the Valar declared to the Elves in Valinor that Men shall join in the Second Music of the Ainur.
An everlasting What-We-Know-Already appears preferable to the New-We-Know-Nothing-About. Maybe a change of attitude towards life and death is in order. It seems such a pity to reject a gift that offers a way out of the ever-spinning so-called Wheel of Fortune. But it is not to be had without effort, without preparation.
As far as the story line goes, here is where we are at in this second week of Lent:
Niggle is a painter, and his most important painting is not done – yet. Instead of getting it finished when he feels the time for his (final) journey drawing nearer and nearer, he goes on a bike ride through the rain to accommodate his every needy neighbor Parish – and promptly falls sick. When he is finally strong enough to ‘totter’ into his painting shed and paint again, an ‘Inspector’ arrives. Pointing at Niggle’s giant canvas, he informs the painter that his canvas is now needed for roof repairs in the neighborhood – dry houses are much more important than art, of course. Niggle resists the notion, but a ‘Driver’ arrives shortly after the Inspector. He tells Niggle that his journey, the long-expected one, will begin – instantly.
We will hear more about the Driver and the journey next week. Today, we will consider the Inspector’s rather unfeeling, yet certainly true comment:
‘There now!’ said the Inspector. ‘You’ll have to go; but it’s a bad way to start on your journey, leaving your jobs undone. Still, we can at least make some use of this canvas now.’
When you go, how will the jobs be taken care of that you did not finish? For Niggle, his beloved tree ends up in bits and pieces as shingles for his neighbor’s leaky roof.
Although for Tolkien unfinished jobs were also quite a literal problem, learning from Niggle’s experience is useful for spiritual jobs, if you will, as well. Focus helps. There are things to tackle. It’s a bad way to start on your journey leaving your jobs undone.
There was once a little man called Niggle, who had a long journey to make. He did not want to go, indeed the whole idea was distasteful to him; but he could not get out of it. He knew he would have to start sometime, but he did not hurry with his preparations.
Of the short fiction J.R.R. Tolkien wrote and published, Leaf by Niggle is probably the most fitting for the season Lent, if you are inclined towards such things. Therefore, we offer you a small series of short quotes and comments on Tolkien’s short story, something to ponder during your Lenten weeks. This post is the first instalment of “Lent with Niggle”. If you are unfamiliar with the story, read it here:
Lent is the time of the year when we most consider this life, and the next – memento mori. J.R.R. Tolkien had his own way of dealing with death, a reality he had to face very early in life, as a child, as a young adult, and that he reflected upon more or less obviously in much of his writing. Leaf by Niggle is undoubtedly autobiographical as well as an allegory, as can be seen right from the start, and deals less with experienced loss, but with his own death. In good Tolkien-ian manner, Leaf by Niggle begins by relating this story – his own story – to the larger historical ‘cauldron of stories’.
Allegorical meaning is signaled at once by the first sentence: ‘There was once a little man called Niggle, who had a long journey to make.’ The reason for his journey is never explained, nor how he knows that he has to make one. But there should be no doubt as to what this means. The Old English poem ‘Bede’s Death-Song’ begins, in its original Northumbrian dialect, ‘Fore thaem neidfaerae’, ‘(Be)fore the need-fare’. A ‘need-fare’, or ‘need-faring’, is a compulsory journey, a journey you have to take, and that journey, Bede declares, begins on one’s ‘deothdaege’ or ‘death-day’. So the long journey the ‘little man’ Niggle has to make – which all men have to make – is death. The image is at once ‘as old as the hills’, completely temporary, and totally familiar. This is the easiest of the equations in the extended allegory.
~ Tom Shippey: J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century
Expect the second installment of “Lent with Niggle” next Wednesday!
The month of January has traditionally been dedicated to the Most Holy Name of Jesus.
We find devotion to the Holy Name to be deeply rooted in Sacred Scripture, especially in the Acts of the Apostles. It was promoted particularly the Franciscan Order, St. John Capistrano, as well as St. Bernard and St. Bernardine of Siena, and extended to the whole Church in 1727, during the pontificate of Innocent XIII.
The Church praises the wonders of the Incarnate Word by singing the glories of His name. The name of Jesus means “Savior”; it had been shown in a dream to Joseph together with its meaning, and to Our Lady at the annunciation by the Archangel Gabriel.
This year, the Church celebrates the Feast of the Most Holy Name of Jesus on January 3rd, 2025. If you wish to honor the Most Holy Name of Jesus on this day especially, consider praying a chaplet dedicated to it. The chaplet can be prayed with any tenner or rosary and consists of three sets of ten for you to keep track of. On the large beads, you pray a quote from Scripture and add your intention, as stated below:
IHS monogram, with kneeling angels, atop the main altar, Church of the Gesù, Rome
Chaplet of the Holy Name of Jesus
+ By the Sign of the Holy Cross, + from our enemies deliver us, + O Lord, our God. + In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Act of Contrition
O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life. Amen.
Prayer
Incline unto my aid, O God. O Lord, make haste to help me.
(If you prefer to pray this in Latin: Deus in adiutorium meum intende, Domine ad adiuvandum me festina.)
First Decade:
On the large bead, you pray the following:
Lord, Thou hast said: “Ask and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you,” I seek, I knock, I ask this favor [here, you can mention your intention].
On each of the ten small beads, pray:
Incline unto my aid, O God. O Lord, make haste to help me.
Deus in adiutorium meum intende, Domine ad adiuvandum me festina
Second Decade:
On the large bead, you pray thus:
“Amen, I say unto you, if ye ask the Father anything in My Name it shall be given unto you.” It is of the Father and in Thy Name, Lord, I ask this favor [here, you can mention your intention again].
On each of the ten small beads, you pray:
Incline unto my aid, O God. O Lord, make haste to help me.
Deus in adiutorium meum intende, Domine ad adiuvandum me festina
Third Decade:
On the large bead, you pray this:
Lord, Thou hast said: “Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My Word shall not pass away,” Thou wilt grant me this favor [here, you can mention your intention once more] because Thou hast said it and Thy word is true.
On each of the ten small beads, you pray:
Incline unto my aid, O God. O Lord, make haste to help me.
Deus in adiutorium meum intende, Domine ad adiuvandum me festina.
The seven “O” antiphons of Advent are an old tradition in the Roman Church. Since at least the eighth century they have accompanied the Magnificat canticle of Evening Prayer, starting December 17 and ending on December 23.
The seven “O” antiphons combine our present hopes for the coming of the Divine Savior with the ancient prophesies, all referring to the Book of Isaiah. In like manner Our Lord Jesus Himself explained His works on earth by interpreting OT prophesy to His contemporaries. All the antiphons all end in the call “Veni!” / “Come!”, much like St. John’s Book of Revelation.
Use your last week of this penitential time to prepare for Holy Night by praying the seven “O” antiphons of Advent! Here they are, in Latin as well as Enlish:
December 17: “O Sapientia” / “O Wisdom” (from Isaiah 11:2-3 and 28:29) O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodiisti, attingens a fine usque ad finem, fortiter suaviterque disponens omnia: veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.
O Wisdom, Who didst come out of the mouth of the Most High, reaching from end to end and ordering all things mightily and sweetly: come and teach us the way of prudence.
December 18: “O Adonai” (from Isaiah 11:4-5 and 33:22) O Adonai, et Dux domus Israel, qui Moysi in igne flammae rubi apparuisti, et ei in Sina legem dedisti: veni ad redimendum nos in brachio extento.
O Adonai, and Leader of the house of Israel, Who didst appear to Moses in the flame of the burning bush, and didst give unto him the Law on Sinai: come and with an outstretched arm redeem us.
December 19: “O Radix Jesse” / “O Root of Jesse” (Isaiah 11:1 and 11:10) O Radix Jesse, qui stas in signum populorum, super quem continebunt reges os suum, quem Gentes deprecabuntur: veni ad liberandum nos, jam noli tardare.
O Root of Jesse, Who dost stand for an ensign of the people, before Whom kings shall keep silence, and unto Whom the Gentiles shall make their supplication: come to deliver us, and tarry not.
December 20: “O Clavis David” / “O Key of David” (from Isaiah 9:6 and 22:22) O Clavis David, et sceptrum domus Israel; qui aperis, et nemo claudit; claudis, et nemo aperit: veni, et educ vinctum de domo carceris, sedentem in tenebris, et umbra mortis.
O Key of David and Sceptre of the house of Israel, Who dost open and no man doth shut, Who dost shut and no man doth open, come and bring forth from his prisonhouse the captive that sitteth in darkness and in the shadow of death.
December 21: “O Oriens”/”O Dawn of the East” (from Isaiah 9:2) O Oriens, splendor lucis æternæ, et sol justitiæ: veni, et illumina sedentes in tenebris, et umbra mortis.
O Dawn of the East, Brightness of the Light Eternal and Sun of Justice, come and enlighten them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.
December 22: “O Rex Gentium” / “O King of the Gentiles” (from Isaiah 2:4 and 9:7) O Rex Gentium, et desideratus earum, lapisque angularis, qui facis utraque unum: veni, et salva hominem, quem de limo formasti.
O King of the Gentiles and the Desired of them, Thou Cornerstone that dost make both one, come and deliver man, whom Thou didst form out of the dust of the earth.
December 23: “O Emmanuel” (from Isaiah 7:14) O Emmanuel, Rex et legifer noster, exspectatio gentium, et Salvator earum: veni ad salvandum nos Domine Deus noster.
O Emmanuel, our King and Lawgiver, the Expected of the Nations and their Saviour, come to save us, O Lord our God.
It’s Gaudete-Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent. Even penitential times have their joyful highlights – the birth of Our Savior is nigh! Here and also here you can read up a little bit on Gaudete-Sunday, and here on the Gaudete Christmas carol you will find below in an a-capella version I particularly enjoy.
Gaudete, gaudete! Christus est natus Ex Maria virgine, gaudete!
