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Integrating: spirituality, psychology, social responsibility and the arts

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Reflection for May 15th 2005

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Let It Flow

The young Irishman, Stephen Dedalus, (in James Joyce's novel Ulysses) felt called to be an artist - a writer who, like the prophets of old, would deal with the deeper issues of life and in some way improve the world. As he put it, his ambition was "to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race." But back in the Dublin of 1904 he could find little support for his ambition. His mother just wanted him to be a nice, low profile, pious young man. His father resented the boy's talents. Only one of his companions, Buck Mulligan, a medical intern, understood him. But being an atheist and cynic, Mulligan simply ridiculed Stephen: why should anyone want to ponder and articulate the meaning of life when human existence had no meaning at all.

And everywhere Stephen looked he saw a world caught up in the hot air of politics, materialism, consumerism, blind nationalism - or hooked on one kind of narcotic or another, be it alcohol or money or "routine" religion or sports or a mindless job. He felt overwhelmed by this environment to the point where he lost hope. Bitterness, anger usurped the place of inspiration in his breast, until one night he smashed a chandelier (symbolic of the society in which he lived) and staggered intoxicated into the Dublin night to end up in a gutter.

Then along came Leopold Bloom, a middle-aged Irish Jew, who had been following Stephen out of concern. Bloom was a Christ like figure, gentle, caring, curious about everything, as though everything and every experience in life were an epiphany of some kind. He brushes the dirt off Stephen and takes him home. He nourishes him (eucharistically) with cocoa (called theobroma or god-food by botanists). Slowly, under the influence of this ordinary, compassionate man, Stephen's faith in human nature and destiny revives. Soberly he exits Bloom's house at dawn to pursue his calling, to awaken the still dormant world around him with his inspired writing.

Joyce uses several images to convey the effect of Bloom on Stephen. One is especially amusing but powerful. Just before making the cocoa Bloom goes to the sink to turn the faucet and let the water flow. "Did it flow?" asks the text. "Yes." replies the text: "From Roundwood Reservoir in County Wicklow of a cubic capacity of 2400 million gallons, percolating through a subterranean aqueduct of filter mains of single and double pipeage by way of Rathdown, Glen of the Downs and Callowhill to the 26 acre reservoir at Stillorgan, a distance of 22 statute miles, and thence, through a system of relieving tanks" until it issued from the tap!

What a wonderful way of describing what Bloom did for Stephen! His simple charity helped release that vast reservoir of love and vision that was dammed up in Stephen (even as it is dammed up in each of us) - so that his creative love might flow forth even as redemptive blood and water flowed forth from the side of Christ.

And isn't what Bloom did for Stephen, what Christ does for us? Doesn't he say in the vigil Gospel for Pentecost, "Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink. As Scripture says: Rivers of living water will flow from within him."? Isn't that what's symbolized in that great vision of the prophet Ezekiel who saw an ever deepening river flowing out of the temple of Jerusalem right into the Dead Sea to turn its salty waters sweet? And doesn't St. Paul say we ourselves are temples of the Holy Spirit, reservoirs of sweet water, of inspired words and deeds that can sweeten our whole environment - if we but turn the tap and let it flow?

-- Geoff Wood