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.
- The Journey of the Magi, T S Eliot
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” Matthew 2: 1-2
On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. Matthew 2: 11-12
With our hearts we recognise the map
For all who notice, and wonder if perhaps there is a journey to be made; one worth embarking on, towards an encounter barely sensed yet strangely insistent, Eliot’s words offer earnest encouragement.
Journeys like these are long and not easily planned for. Sustained by glimpses of joy they are, nevertheless, rarely comfortable and frequently costly in ways we cannot know when setting out. Attentive to the night skies and skilled in the art of star-gazing, these three (kings, perhaps, philosophers or sages, maybe) caught sight of the star when it rose and understood it was the map.
Perhaps when all is said and done, examined, misunderstood and fretted over, it is with our hearts that we recognise the map and set out to worship him.
And in time, we may also come to realise that this setting out, arriving and leaving again by another route is all worship. For the way is deep and, birthed in the mystery of our first noticing, calls for a lifetime of learning to journey by a different way.
Lights through the rain, Benjamin Sow, unsplash.com
This blessing/does not mean/to take the night away,/but it knows/its hidden roads,/knows the resting spots/along the path,/knows what it means/to travel…
So when/this blessing comes,/take its hand./Get up./Set out on the road/you cannot see.
- The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief. Jan Richardson
Lynn Darke