Sunday, January 7, 2018

The Three Kings


Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they.
And they traveled by night and they slept by day
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.
The star was so beautiful, large, and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere.
And by this they knew that the coming was near
Of the Prince foretold in prophecy.
Three caskets they bore on their saddlebows,
Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and fubelows,
Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.
And so the Three Kings rode into the West,
Through the dusk of night, over hill and dell,
And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast,
And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest,
With the people they met at some wayside well.
“Of the child that is born,” said Baltasar,
“Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews.”
And the people answered, “You ask in vain;
We know of no king but Herod the Great!”
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain,
Like riders in haste, and who cannot wait.
And when they came to Jerusalem,
Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,
Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;
And said, “Go down unto Bethlehem,
And bring me tidings of this new king.”
So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the gray of morn;
Yes, it stopped,—it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,
The city of David, where Christ was born.
And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,
Through the silent street, till their horses turned
And neighed as they entered the great inn yard;
But the windows were closed and the doors were barred,
And only a light in the stable burned.
And cradled there in the scented hay,
In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
The little child in the manger lay,
The child that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human but divine.
His mother Mary of Nazareth
Sat watching beside his place of rest,
Watching the even flow of his breath,
For the joy of life and the terror of death
Were mingled together in her breast.
They laid their offerings at his feet:
The gold was their tribute to a King,
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,
The myrrh for the body’s burying.
And the mother wondered and bowed her head,
And sat as still as a statue of stone;
Her heart was troubled yet comforted,
Remembering what the Angel had said
Of an endless reign and of David’s throne.
Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,
With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,
And returned to their homes by another way.

-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
Painting: Hendrick Terbrugghen (18588-1629), The Adoration of the Magi

Saturday, January 6, 2018

Epiphany Benediction


Go out into the world to share
the many gifts that have been given to you.
    Do not let them go to waste;

     share them through the power of the Spirit.
    And as you do so,

     may the grace and peace of God abide with you along the way.

--Stephen Fearing, from http://www.stephenmfearing.com/liturgy//charge-benediction-epiphany-2c-january-17th-2016, for Epiphany 2C

For Those Who Have Far to Travel: An Epiphany Blessing


If you could see
the journey whole
you might never
undertake it;
might never dare
the first step
that propels you
from the place
you have known
toward the place
you know not.

Call it
one of the mercies
of the road:
that we see it
only by stages
as it opens
before us,
as it comes into
our keeping
step by single step. 

There is nothing
for it
but to go
and by our going
take the vows
the pilgrim takes:

to be faithful to
the next step;
to rely on more
than the map;
to heed the signposts
of intuition and dream;
to follow the star
that only you
will recognize;

to keep an open eye
for the wonders that
attend the path;
to press on
beyond distractions
beyond fatigue
beyond what would
tempt you
from the way.

There are vows
that only you
will know;
the secret promises
for your particular path
and the new ones
you will need to make
when the road
is revealed
by turns
you could not
have foreseen.

Keep them, break them,
make them again:
each promise becomes
part of the path;
each choice creates
the road that will take you
to the place
where at last
you will kneel

to offer the gift
most needed—
the gift that only you
can give—
before turning to go
home by
another way.

--Jan Richardson (1967- )

The Gift


As the wise men of old brought gifts
guided by a star
to the humble birthplace
of the god of love,
the devils
as an old print shows
retreated in confusion.
What could a baby know
of gold ornaments
or frankincense and myrrh,
of priestly robes
and devout genuflections?
But the imagination
knows all stories
before they are told
and knows the truth of this one
past all defection.
The rich gifts
so unsuitable for a child
though devoutly proffered,
stood for all that love can bring.
The men were old
how could they know
of a mother’s needs
of a child’s
appetite?
But as they kneeled
the child was fed.
They saw it
and gave praise!
A miracle
had taken place,
hard gold to love,
a mother’s milk!
before
their wondering eyes.
The ass brayed
the cattle lowed.
It was their nature.
All men by their nature give praise.
It is all
they can do.
The very devils
by their flight give praise.
What is death,
beside this?
Nothing. The wise men
came with gift
and bowed down
to worship
this perfection.
--William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)

Friday, January 5, 2018

The Magi


Now as at all times I can see in the mind’s eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Calvary’s turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.

-- William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), from The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats (1989)

Thursday, January 4, 2018

Arise, shine! An Epiphany Benediction



Arise, shine!
See, and be radiant!
Offer your gifts to the world,
in the Name of Love Incarnate,
who draws the world into his embrace.
May the light of Christ shine within you
and draw all around you to the love and knowledge of God.
And the blessing of God Almighty,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
rest among you, and give you peace and hope.

Amen.

--The Rev. Leslie Scoopmire, Epiphany 2018,
based on Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 72:1-7, 10:14; Ephesians 3:1-12; Matthew 2:1-12

Epiphany Benediction


Go now as a light to the nations.
Honour the Lord;
preach what you know of the risen Christ,
and fulfil all righteousness.

And may God strengthen you and bless you with peace;
May Christ Jesus bring forth justice for you and among you;
And may the Holy Spirit alight on you
and affirm you as God’s beloved ones.

We go in peace to love and serve the Lord,
In the name of Christ. Amen.


Based on Isaiah 42:6, Matthew 3:13-17, Acts 10:34-43 (Epiphany 1A)

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Benediction: Epiphany


Go in peace; love and care for one another in the name of Christ;
and may the Spirit of God which filled John and Jesus, 
fill your hearts, souls and minds; 
may the power of God which upheld them, 
strengthen you for each day; 
and may the love of God which directed their every action 
be your guiding light and your shining star, 
both now and forevermore.  Amen

— written by Rev. Richard J. Fairchild, and posted on his Kir-shalom website

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

The Summer Day


Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean –
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down –
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

--Mary Oliver (1935-), from House of Light, 1990

Monday, January 1, 2018

Migratory God



Migratory God
who uprooted Abraham
and led him into a foreign land
provide rest for your people
the stranger and alien
the refugee and wanderer the one seeking sanctuary
settling in an unfamiliar place
Migratory God
who travels great distances

to become human
and live among us
dwelling in us
help us see that we all are restless
searching and seeking
finding that place of being and belonging
to lay our heads as you who had no place
except with your people
Migratory God
who has crossed borders and boundaries

to be born a stranger
fleeing from country to country
feet moving for miles, over desert and dry places
into the Jordan River
where you cross from one land to the other
in the waters of baptism
where you wash off ties to nation and citizen
so we might enter into a newkingdom and country  
Migratory God
who accompanies us in our journey

remind us of where we’ve been
from where we’ve come
so we might not forget
that we all traversed great distances
to find the place that our hearts seek to settle
that place all of us call home