LONG JOURNEY OF THE MAGI

THE MAGI - Trinity Episcopal Church Midtown Houston

LONG JOURNEY OF THE MAGI

 
Advent is the liturgical season when Christians are called to contemplate the approaching birth of Christ. In Advent, as did the Virgin Mary, we prepare our hearts and souls for the birth of Jesus on Christmas morning. We say yes, to God, and we say yes to humanity. We encourage ourselves to give birth to God’s love within the world. In Advent, as did the Magi, we journey to find the newborn Christ child.
 
The 20th-Century theologian Paul Tillich reminds us that “Advent is a time of hope and expectation, of waiting for the fulfillment of God's promises. It is a time to remember the longing of the prophets, the faith of the patriarchs, and the struggles of the people of God throughout history.” And so we await Christ’s coming.
 
In the Nativity Story, we are reminded of the prophet Isaiah, who spoke of a time when “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone” (Isaiah 9:2). This light is the light of Christ, who came into the world to bring salvation, renewal, reconciliation, and redemption.
 
As we await the coming of Christ, may we turn away from all our estrangements, our separations, and our many divisions and seek the light of Christ within us. Help us, Lord, to remember who we are as a people of faith, help us to see one another again as your people.
 
In his poem “Journey of the Magi,” T. S. Eliot wrote these solemn words—that illustrated the long journey of the Magi. Such spiritual journeys are never easy. They are harder than we may imagine or recognize at the time. And yet, the journey prepares us for something new.
 
 
‘A cold coming we had of it, 
Just the worst time of the year 
For a journey, and such a long journey: 
The ways deep and the weather sharp, 
The very dead of winter.' 
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, 
Lying down in the melting snow. 
There were times we regretted 
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, 
And the silken girls bringing sherbet. 
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling 
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women, 
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, 
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly 
And the villages dirty and charging high prices: 
A hard time we had of it. 
At the end we preferred to travel all night, 
Sleeping in snatches, 
With the voices singing in our ears, saying 
That this was all folly. 
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, 
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; 
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, 
And three trees on the low sky, 
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. 
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, 
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, 
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins. 
But there was no information, and so we continued 
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon 
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory. 
 
All this was a long time ago, I remember, 
And I would do it again, but set down 
This set down 
This: were we led all that way for 
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly, 
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, 
But had thought they were different; this Birth was 
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. 
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, 
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, 
With an alien people clutching their gods. 
I should be glad of another death.
 
 
The final verse reminds us that we must be glad of another death, our own death. The death of an old life we can no longer live or tolerate. The death of enmity. The death of fear. The death of the violence we project towards one another. It is a reminder and an admonishment that we must no longer be at ease under our old ways of thinking and acting, our old indulgences, which turn us away from God and from one another. We must stop the death of dwelling in a land of deep darkness.
 
We must never be comfortable living in the illusion and dimness of our estrangements but endeavor to follow Christ and live in the light of love. As we prepare to celebrate Christ's birth this Christmas, may we pray for the grace to follow him, our Lord, more closely. May this Advent season be a time of renewal. May it be a time of reconciliation and healing, and unity. A time to prepare, a time to let go of the old and embrace the new, before we receive and celebrate the coming of our Savior.

“So we know and believe the love God has for us. God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” I JOHN 4:16.
 
“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” JOHN 13:34-35.
 
God's abiding in us, making within us a dwelling place for God's Spirit, is the same as our abiding in love, where love is the the domain of our dwelling place. God and love are not two separate realities; they are one.


Amen.

Ron Starbuck
Saint Julian Press, Inc.
Publisher-CEO-Executive Editor

Note: This content was originally generated by the OpenAI-ChatGPT by posing a question to its artificial intelligence service, and enhanced extensively afterward for grammar and writing style.
 
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