麻豆约拍

I鈥檝e been enjoying the celebrations that have marked the centenary of Dylan Thomas鈥檚 birth. I grew up in a small town in South Wales roughly half way between Swansea where he was born and the quaint village of Laugharne where he was buried. In my very first term at the grammar school, our form teacher, in a hushed and oh-so-solemn voice, announced the poet鈥檚 death in faraway New York. 鈥淎 local boy,鈥� he said, 鈥渙ne of us, but one day he鈥檒l be one of the best-known names in the world.鈥� And so it came to pass. He became a cult figure in his own day, so much so that one man named Robert Allen Zimmerman changed his name to Bob Dylan who鈥檚 still strumming and singing the blues. Dylan Thomas鈥檚 excesses have been well publicised 鈥� his womanising and his heavy drinking are only too well known.听 But those things must never obscure his very remarkable qualities 鈥� his care for his aged parents, his powers of observation, his sense of fun, his evocation of what it means to be young and, supremely, his wonderful lyrical poetry. A deep spirituality somehow co-existed in his deepest self with the gross and dissolute characteristics that have brought him such notoriety. Our prayer this morning, put in the mouth of the Reverend Eli Jenkins, is a reminder from Dylan Thomas that we鈥檙e all a mixture of good and bad, every one of us has done things we鈥檙e both proud of and ashamed of. And it鈥檚 in that spirit we pray now:

Every morning when I wake, dear Lord, a little prayer I make; O please do keep thy lovely eye on all poor creatures born to die鈥�. And Thou, I know, wilt be the first, to see our best side, not our worst. Amen.

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