A Song

One of my favourite movies is “Spartacus” directed by a young Stanley Kubrick, with Kirk Douglas in the starring role. The film was made in 1960, when I was eleven years old. I have seen it many times and every year or two I trot down to the local video store to rent a copy (I somehow haven’t yet managed to buy the DVD.) But this post isn’t about the movie. It’s about a song from the movie, spoken one evening when everyone was resting from their toil, by one of the freed slaves in Spartacus’ growing army, Antoninus. Here it is in full:

When the blazing sun hangs low in the western sky,
When the wind dies away on the mountain,
When the song of the meadowlark turns still,
When the field locust clicks no more in the field
And the sea-foam sleeps like a maiden at rest,
And twilight touches the shape of the wandering earth,
I turn home.
Through blue shadows and purple woods,
I turn home.
I turn to the place that I was born,
To the mother that bore me and the father that taught me
Long ago, long ago.

Alone am I now, lost and alone
In a far wide wandering world.
Yet still, when the blazing sun hangs low,
When the wind dies away and the sea-foam sleeps
And twilight touches the wandering earth,
I turn home,
I turn home,
I turn home.

It still brings a lump to my throat when I read these words. The scene in which this takes place is a very important one in the unfolding story. But that is not what always affected me about the song. No, rather it was the sense of being lost, of being alone, that always made me want to cry.

The sense of alienation and of longing in the song is heightened by the poignant references to the natural beauty all around but which seems impotent to bring the singer any sense of relief or fulfillment. The pathos is almost tangible. And I can’t help but to compare this pagan song, with all its existential sadness, to a song more familiar to all of us: that of the 23rd Psalm:

The LORD is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness
For His name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You have anointed my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

What a difference! What hope, what confidence, what assurance, what comfort!

When I was young, before I knew I was a Christian, before I had the assurance and hope that one can get only through a living relationship with a loving Saviour, I too was like the singer of the song from Spartacus; sad, lost and forlorn. But when Christ came to me and called me His own, I suddenly understood three very important truths: first, that the world is not the beautiful place I thought it was—for all its beauty still—second, that I was not alone, that I had Someone who gave my life its significance and its value; value that it had lost because of Adam’s fall from grace; third, that I too could turn homeward. I could turn homeward; but unlike the singer, I could see the true home of the redeemed in Christ. I could see that, indeed, Christ had prepared a place for me there, my own home to which I now can look forward with confidence and not with fear, because I trust the One who made it all possible. The longing of the singer was my longing, his pain and sadness was my pain and sadness; the parents he missed became my loving Father and the home for which he longed became mine because of the complete and finished work of a loving, merciful and compassionate Saviour who came to me when I was still lost in a far wide wandering world. So now when twilight touches the wandering earth, and as I wander through the valley of the shadow of death, through blue shadows and purple woods, I turn home; for He is ever with me and He guides me through life’s darkest days. Now I live for the great marriage feast of the Lamb that awaits me, where I know that my cup will indeed overflow and I will dwell in His house, my house, my home, as His adopted child forever.

Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria.