An Endless Love

Message for worship at West Richmond Friends Meeting on the 8th day of the Second Month by Elizabeth Terney

Scripture: Isaiah 53:1-3

Today’s sermon is based on the poem in your bulletin, “Despised and Rejected” by Christina Rosetti, a Victorian poet known for her romantic, devotional, and children’s poems. Her poetry is the basis of several hymns, including “In the Bleak Midwinter”, on which the song David just sang was based. This poem is about a person deep in despair and isolation. She receives a visitor at her door, but she does not let him in.

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Despised and Rejected by Christina Rossetti

My sun has set, I dwell

In darkness as a dead man out of sight;

And none remains, not one, that I should tell

To him mine evil plight

This bitter night.

I will make fast my door

That hollow friends may trouble me no more.

“Friend, open to Me.’ – Who is this that calls?

Nay, I am deaf as are my walls:

Cease crying, for I will not hear

Thy cries of hope or fear.

Others were dear,

Others forsook me; what are thou indeed

That I should heed

Thy lamentable need?

Hungry should feed

Or stranger lodge thee here?

“Friend, My Feet bleed.

Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.”

I will not open, trouble me no more.

Go on thy way footsore,

I will not rise and open unto thee.

“Then it is nothing to thee? Open, see

Who stands to plead with thee.

Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou

One day entreat my Face

And howl for grace,

And be deaf as thou are now.

Open to Me.”

Then I cried out upon him: Cease,

Leave me in peace:

Fear not that I should crave

Aught though mayst have.

Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more,

Lest I arise and chase thee from the door.

What, shall I not be let

Alone, that though dost vex me yet?

But all night long that voice spake urgently:

“Open to Me.”Still harping in mine ears:

“Rise, let Me in.”

Pleading with tears:“Open to Me that I may come to thee.”

While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold:“My Feet bleed, see My Face,

See my Hands bleed that bring thee grace,

My Heart doth bleed for thee,

Open to Me.”

So till the break of day:

Then died away

That voice, in silence as of sorrow;

Then footsteps echoing like a sigh

Passed me by,

Lingering footsteps slow to pass.

On the morrow

I saw upon the grass

Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door

The mark of blood for evermore.

The poem starts by explaining why the woman has closed her door and retreated to solitude. She points to hollow friends and her feeling that she is alone in the world – there is no one to whom she can tell her sad story.

Someone comes to her door. She feels others have betrayed her, and she will not listen to the crying at her door.

The person at her door says, “My Feet bleed’ and asks for comfort from her, but she turns him away, unable to care for another when she is in such pain. The stranger at the door warns her she should pay attention to who is there waiting for her – that ignoring him could have dire consequences in the future. Still, she is deaf to the pleas, unable to see beyond her own pain.

Through the night, the man at the door reveals more and more about who he is. He wants to comfort her, his hands bleed to bring her grace. The fourth stanza reveals the five injuries of Christ – his feet, his hands and his spear to the chest. We, the readers, know who is there and who she turns away. But, we are left to ask, is she aware? Is she capable of caring enough to notice?

Most humans are wounded and damaged in some way. Can we say that in our darkest moments, we would open that door and offer hospitality to a stranger? Are we as capable of being blind to his identity as the woman inside? Are we capable of rising to the challenge?

Finally, Christ leaves, passing her by. We find ourselves worried for the soul of our narrator. Will Christ be deaf to her in the future as he warned? What shall become of this woman who already has experienced so much pain?

When we think of despair, we can recognize many reasons someone might feel that way. Depression immediately comes to mind for me, for that is my history, my story. Shame can bring on despair. Despair can be the result of trauma – abuse, bullying, violence from a stranger, or sudden loss. Grief can bring on despair. Illnesses, chronic or deadly, can make us despair. Loneliness is an epidemic in our country now. Lack of resources, poverty, or being unhoused can lead to despair.

Betrayal is the cause of our narrator’s pain.

We also now recognize that turmoil in the outside world beyond our control is a reason people feel despair. We are witnessing horrible injustices. The fabric of morality on which our country seemed to be based is disintegrating before us. I remember when George Floyd was murdered, and I watched one of the videos. It was a traumatic experience – I witnessed someone be murdered 100s of miles away, hours after it happened – yet it felt like I was right there in that street. Watching the murder of Alex Pretti and Renee Goode brought those feelings back. This was not a TV show or movie. I was one of millions of witnesses to a gruesome event.

And yet, I still need to cook myself dinner, care for my dogs, and get enough sleep at night. Many need to earn an income and pay bills. Children and the elderly still need care. We have to rise from bed and face this new reality as it unfolds, full of an overwhelming superstorm of painful news stories. There is an effort at hand to overwhelm us to the point that we give up. And, sadly, sometimes, we do.

So, there are many reasons why someone like you might not open the door, being too overcome by our own pain to help someone else, or to welcome help.

There are many scriptural allusions in the poem.

The first comes in the title “Despised and Rejected,” which comes from Isaiah 53:3, “he was despised and rejected… and we held him of no account.” This passage from Isaiah has long been believed to point to Christ’s suffering. Remember that Christ was also abandoned.

The opening verse echoes the words of Psalm 143:3-4, “For my enemy has pursued me, crushing my life to the ground, making me sit in darkness like those long dead. Therefore, my spirit faints within me; my heart within me is appalled.” We are only the latest generations to experience despair.

Then comes the knock at the door, the scripture being echoed is Revelation 3:20 “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.”

The man at the door asks for comfort, echoing Matthew 25:35: “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.” I think we all like to believe that we will offer nourishment to those who need it, that we’ll welcome the stranger, visit the prisoner, and seek to serve Jesus in all we meet. But, are we always capable of that?

The narrator has an amazing chance to welcome Christ into her home, but she is in too much pain to welcome him. Her pain is clear, and the reasons are legitimate.

This poem asks us the question: if Christ came to our door, would there be room at the inn? Would we let him in and bid him sit and eat?

Are we also damaged, wounded, and afraid? What would really happen if, in a moment of darkness in our lives, there was a knocking at the door -- if we’re honest?

It would be wonderful, of course, to open the door and comfort Jesus. To be filled with the Light of Christ. To feel that endless love and comfort and to be guided into a holy life of meaning and purpose.

However, sometimes that is beyond our abilities. When we are wounded, we curl up like an animal, protecting our vulnerable parts. Someone coming to the door would be turned away.

Despair is not an ideal response to pain. I think we all know that. But sometimes, despair is where we end up.

So what happens with this lamentable woman? She has let Christ pass her by. Is she despised and rejected as she despised and rejected Christ? Will she be turned away by Christ in the time of judgment?

It’s not entirely clear, but the final lines give us hope. It says, “and on my door The mark of blood for evermore.” These lines pull us to Exodus – Passover. The children of Israel were saved by the blood on the lintel. The bleeding hands of Christ may have brought her grace, indeed. The door to salvation may be open even for the one who has most bitterly rejected the one who saves her.

Is Christina Rossetti saying Christ’s Grace meets us when we’re in despair, too? In the depths of our personal agony, when we cannot even turn to God, God blesses us anyway?

Are we saved anyway?