Happy New Year, readers and friends! May 2014 bring you much joy.
It must be obvious by now that I value Madeleine L’Engle, as friend and wordsmith.
In my young adulthood, I knew she gave writers’ workshops in the summer at Wheaton College in Illinois. I wanted “someday” to go. I did not make the “someday”, sadly. Still, I’ve felt – from childhood on – tutored by her characters, her art, her own journey in life and writing in many ways. She was a purveyor of intuited truth to the child who munched happily on A Wrinkle in Time, and every subsequent novel. (I’m thinking of rereading them all in 2014… anyone with me? And then on to all her other books!) A high school student gifted me with Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, which wound its way into both my masters and doctoral theses, and a theology of ministry too! Though we never met in the flesh, I feel I’ve met L’Engle in other ways (perhaps in a kything communion, oh Wrinkle lovers?). There are many dear writers like that for me – C.S. Lewis comes immediately to mind, with Tolkien and MacDonald, poets, and saints and mystics. I hope that’s true for you as well.
So, on this day that celebrates Mary as God-Bearer, Mother, Theotokos, solemnly – it seemed fitting to offer you this three pronged reflection on Mary from L’Engle. The last I shared with you was Young Mary, glimpsing her just past the Annunciation. Here Madeleine again explores the inner experience of Mary, within the context of the Incarnation-Christmas Mystery. Appropriately, the third poem below has much to do with Joseph, who sees too little ink, methinks.
I invite you to add a comment after your reading, simply sharing a line/a phrase/a word that speaks to you from all the ones below. We have a right to hear the Spirit speaking in the context of community, so share a whispering or breeze or gust that blows past you, in a repeated word or three or four from her text, would you?
May Mary and Joseph accompany and guide you to the places you need to be this year to better encounter the Word in flesh.
Three Songs Of Mary
1. O Simplicitas
An angel came to me
and I was unprepared
to be what God was using.
Mother I was to be.
A moment I despaired,
thought briefly of refusing.
The angel knew I heard.
according to God’s Word
I bowed to this strange choosing.
A palace should have been
the birthplace of a king
(I had no way of knowing).
We went to Bethlehem;
it was so strange a thing.
The wind was cold, and blowing,
my cloak was old, and thin.
They turned us from the inn;
the town was overflowing.
God’s Word, a child so small
who still must learn to speak
lay in humiliation.
Joseph stood, strong and tall.
The beasts were warm and meek
and moved in hesitation.
The Child born in a stall?
I understood it: all.
Kings came in adoration.
Perhaps it was absurd;
a stable set apart,
the sleeping cattle lowing;
and the incarnate Word
resting against my heart.
My joy was overflowing.
The shepherds came, adored
the folly of the Lord,
wiser than all men’s knowing.
2. O Oriens
O come, O come Emmanuel
within this fragile vessel here to dwell.
O Child conceived by heaven’s power
give me thy strength: it is the hour.
O come, thou Wisdom form on high;
like any babe at life you cry;
for me, like any mother, birth
Was hard, O light of earth.
O come, O come, thou Lord of might,
whose birth came hastily at night,
born in a stable, in blood and pain
is this the king who comes to reign?
O come, thou Rod of Jesse’s stem,
the stars will be thy diadem.
How can the infinite finite be?
Why choose, child, to be born of me?
O come, thou key of David, come,
open the door to my heart-home.
I cannot love thee as a king –
so fragile and so small a thing.
O come, thou Dayspring from on high:
I saw the signs that marked the sky.
I heard the beat of angels’ wings
I saw the shepherds and the kings.
O come, Desire of nations, be
simply a human child to me.
Let me not weep that you are born.
The night is gone. Now gleams the morn.
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel,
God’s Son, God’s Self, with us to dwell.
3. O Sapientia
It was from Joseph first I learned
of love. Like me he was dismayed.
How easily he could have turned
me from his house; but, unafraid,
he put me not away from him
(O God-sent angel, pray for him).
Thus through his love was Love obeyed.
The Child’s first cry came like a bell:
God’s Word aloud, God’s Word in deed.
The angel spoke: so it befell,
and Joseph with me in my need.
O Child whose father came from heaven,
to you another gift was given,
your earthly father chosen well.
With Joseph I was always warmed
and cherished. Even in the stable
I knew that I would not be harmed.
And, thou above the angels swarmed,
man’s love it was that made me able
to bear God’s love, wild, formidable,
to bear God’s will, through me performed.
Tagged: angels, Bethlehem, C.S. Lewis, Christmas, God's love, Incarnation, Joseph of Nazareth, Madeleine L'Engle, Mary of Nazareth, O Anthiphons, saints, shepherd, Tolkien
