I insisted that Susan Fletcher send me in something for Christmas. Here is one of two entries: "Here is one of my favorite poems by T.S. Eliot, 'Journey of the Magi.' There’s nothing quite as wonderful as an author capturing and giving voice to a thought, experience, or emotion that we have had. We find ourselves delighting in knowing that we are known, that there is a kindred spirit out there. That’s Eliot’s effect on me. While not a typical Christmas poem, it does force the reader to deeply contemplate our Lord’s incarnation. and to also consider what Dr. Ryken spoke a bit about on Sunday morning, that we are living in 'the already/not yet.'
“Journey of the Magi”
T.S. Eliot
‘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 town 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.