Wise Women Also Came

Wise women also came.

The fire burned in their wombs long before 

they saw 

the flaming star in the sky.

They walked in shadows, trusting the path 

would open under the light of the moon.

Wise women also came, 

seeking no directions, 

no permission from any king.

They came by their own authority, 

their own desire, 

their own longing.

They came in quiet, spreading no rumours, 

sparking no fears to lead to innocents' slaughter,
to their sister Rachel's inconsolable lamentations.

Wise women also came, 

and they brought useful gifts:
water for labour's washing, 

fire for warm illumination, 

a blanket for swaddling.

Wise women also came, 

at least three of them,
holdingMary in the labour,
crying out with her in the birth pangs,
breathing ancient blessings into her ear.

Wise women also came, 

and they went, 

as wise women always do, 

home a different way.

--Jan Richardson (1947- ) American Methodist artist, poet, and teacher, from Night Visions: Searching for Shadows of Advent and Christmas

Scripture Reference Matthew 2:1-12

Shining-Forth

We know now
   the night sky as ancient record-
   the ages and eons required
for the light of each star to fall on our eyes.
If we look up.
                        We may even
look upon what has flared out and died
when life was new and God’s song of creation
echoed still through galaxies, the final blast of light
trailing behind, Schroedinger’s star,
   dead and alive at once,
perhaps memory only, but like all memories
   still serving as guide in the now.

Lured by a star, did they
stop as dawn drew a blue
diaphanous veil between earth and heaven?
                                                                      Or did they
continue westward, shifting their allegiance to the sun?

But here they are now, turning up
   dusty, grimy from the road, uneasy.
They shake sand from their beards as if ruefully disagreeing.

The door is low—bowing they enter,
then bowing again, offering
gold, frankincense, myrrh
power, worship, anointing.
All that meets their eyes
   could be dismissed as humble. Yet
as the infant gaze blinks and falls upon them,
and in eyes as wide and wise as centuries
the star’s birth flares anew,
                        alpha and omega.

After cradling him gently in callused, weathered hands,
   one by one that fire descended and swelled within each heart.
As if awakened from a dream,
they stumbled through the low-slung door
   to draw all nations to awe and praise.
The road is now elsewhere.
They go home now by another way.

--Leslie Barnes Scoopmire, Epiphany 2023,

first published at Episcopal Journal and Cafe's Speaking to the Soul, January 5, 2023

Scripture reference Matthew 2:1-12

To Find God

Weigh me the fire; or canst thou find

A way to measure out the wind?
Distinguish all those floods that are
Mixed in that wat'ry theater,
And taste thou them as saltless there,
As in their channel first they were.
Tell me the people that do keep
Within the kingdoms of the deep;
Or fetch me back that cloud again,
Beshivered into seeds of rain.
Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spears
Of corn, when summer shakes his ears;
Show me that world of stars, and whence
They noiseless spill their influence.
This if thou canst; then show me Him
That rides the glorious cherubim.

-Robert Harrick (1591-1674), English poet and Anglican priest

The Baptism of Jesus (First Sunday after Epiphany)

Beginning here we glimpse the Three-in-one;
The river runs, the clouds are torn apart,
The Father speaks, the Sprit and the Son
Reveal to us the single loving heart
That beats behind the being of all things
And calls and keeps and kindles us to light.
The dove descends, the spirit soars and sings
‘You are belovèd, you are my delight!’

In that quick light and life, as water spills
And streams around the Man like quickening rain,
The voice that made the universe reveals
The God in Man who makes it new again.
He calls us too, to step into that river
To die and rise and live and love forever.

--The Rev. Malcolm Guite (1954- ), Anglican priest, poet, musician, and theologian, from his blog.

The Call of Abraham

“Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country.’ ” --Genesis 12:1 

Talk about imperious. 
Without a by-your-leave, 
Or, may I presume? 
No previous contact, 
no letter of introduction, 
no greeting, 
just out of the blue 
this unknown God 
issues edicts. 

This is not a conversation. 
Am I a nobody 
to receive decrees 
from one whose name 
I do not know? 
And at our first encounter!

I have worshipped my own god. 
To you I have addressed no prayers, 
offered no sacrifices, 
asked no favors, 
but quick, 
like sudden fire in the desert, 
without the most elemental ritual, 
I hear “Go.”

At seventy-five, 
Am I supposed to scuttle my life, 
take that ancient wasteland, Sarai, 
place my thin arthritic bones 
upon the road 
to some mumbled nowhere?

Let me get this straight.
I will be brief. 
I summarize. 
In ten generations since the Flood 
you have spoken to no one.

You give commands: 
pull up my tent, 
desert my home, 
the graves of my ancestors, 
my friends next door, 
leave Haran 
for a country you do not name, 
there to be a stranger,
a sojourner.

God of the wilderness, 
from two desiccated lumps, 
from two parched prunes 
you promise to make a great nation. 
In me all peoples of the earth
will be blessed.

You come late, Lord, very late,
but my camels leave in the morning. 

-- Fr. Kilian McDonnell, OSB (1921- ), American monk, poet, and theologian at St. John's Abbey

Relevant Scripture: Genesis 12:1-4a, Lent 2A

Painting: Francesco Bassano, Abraham Leaves Haran, 1560-1592