Water at the Roots. Philip Britts

– where the antidote?

      Here is the evidence that men forget.

      These have forgotten all the pith of Truth:

      And most men with them, that I ever met,

      In boasting age or swift careering youth,

      Have missed the true adventure, missed the thrill

      Of that great ride where they could drink their fill

      Of wonder and of danger and of strife –

      They have forgotten what to do with life!

      These lusty men grow old

      And gibber freely in their age

      Stale stories of a hectic yesterday.

      These lusty men grow old,

      And all their hectic yesterdays

      Are now like froth upon a glass of beer.

      These lusty men grow old

      And spend an idle eventide

      Yarning about dead deeds with dying words,

      And all their strength, their striving, and their fear

      Is like a gust of wind, and all their feats

      Like thistledown adrift in city streets.

      But who can show strong men, as these,

      The things that will abide,

      The one Adventure, one great Quest,

      From which there is no pause nor rest

      When once the search is tried;

      Where those who search and struggle

      Win courage from defeat –

      And, daring, drink the wells of Death,

      And find the water sweet?

      There is but one Adventure,

      The seeking for the Truth,

      One prize for those who find it –

      Everlasting Youth.

      When they were born, they knew it,

      The men who sit here yet;

      And every sunrise tells them, but always they forget.

      1940

       Let there be no fallow in my heart

      With Great Britain at war, what had become of the Christian peace witness? In 1948, Philip would write:

      If a man who had been closely associated with Jesus of Nazareth were to revisit the world today, with no knowledge of the intervening history, it would seem strange to him that the numerous and widely-followed “Christian” churches are as perplexed and helpless in the face of the general dilemma as is the rest of humankind. He would have heard Jesus proclaiming a new way of love, a new kingdom of peace, and he would now find whole nations claiming to be his disciples and, not only living in violence, injustice, lying, and impurity equal to that of the pre-Christian world, but even using his name to bless and justify their wars.

      Where shall we look, and what have we to say in face of this confusion? … Is it not important that there should be some place in the world, however small, where people actually live in brotherhood and justice and peace – and that we give our lives to this cause?

      To give their lives to this cause was precisely what Philip and Joan decided to do. In the spring of 1940 they asked to become members of the Bruderhof, making lifetime vows of commitment.

      “WHEN I HAVE GROWN”

      When I have grown to strength of heart and mind,

      Then let me still lie helpless on thy knee,

      Still raise my empty hands towards thy face,

      And let thy love, alone, smile out from me.

      I am but earth, unless thou work in me

      And make my earth bear fruit in every part.

      Wound me, then, deeply, with thy plough of love,

      And let there be no fallow in my heart.

      1940

      My family had joined the community shortly before Philip and Joan came. We children felt an affinity for him – he was quiet, thoughtful, awake to joy, and willing to spend time with us. That fall, Philip wrote this story, illustrated it with childlike black and white sketches, and gave it to my younger brother, Anthony, and me for my ninth birthday. I am no longer sure what prompted it, but I may have asked him why there were flowers in the woods in springtime, but not in the summer.

      WHY AUTUMN COMES

      Barbara had a big tabby cat, who was very old and very, very wise. Nobody knew how old he was, because he was already there when the community came to the land.

      Nobody knew how wise he was either, but they said he was the Wisest-of-all-Cats. Indeed, he was able to talk, and when Barbara was puzzled, he used to tell her How-things-came-about stories.

      One day when the brown and golden leaves were spinning down from the trees, and the Wisest-of-all-Cats was asleep by the stove, Barbara poked him with her finger and said, “All the leaves are falling off the trees, Cat, and there is a thick blanket of them on the ground. Why does it happen, and how did it come about?”

      The Wisest-of-all-Cats stretched himself and said, “It’s a story that goes back to the First Days, but I will tell you all about it.”

      In the days when the world was very young, a little girl was skipping over the grass, looking for flowers. And there were flowers everywhere.

      The green carpet of the grass was spotted with many colours, and flowers grew together in little groups, in every possible place. Some grew in the sun, and some in the shade of rocks.