Another Way

And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them,
until it came and stopped over the place where the child was.
They were overjoyed at seeing the star,
and on entering the house
they saw the child with Mary his mother.
They prostrated themselves and did him homage.
Then they opened their treasures
and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod,
they departed for their country by another way.
—Matthew 2:1-12

The star had heralded the dawn
but vanished in the day.
The road that led you there was gone—
you took another way.

The sigil had not ceased to burn;
the star shone out the same,
but you were no more what you were
who'd seen a brighter flame.

Up to that hour you'd known the night,
a sky where all was dim,
and now you stagger in the light—
all you had known dislimns.

The world of starlight breaks apart,
the pieces rearrange.
So, too, the fragments of your heart
beneath the infant's gaze.

You travelled far to look on him;
now he has looked at you:
You breath comes short; your vision swims;
your world is all made new.

And where there were no roads before,
new ways have opened wide.
The world itself an open door
spills out a glorious light.

Adoración de los Reyes Magos by El Greco, 1568 (Museo Soumaya, Mexico City) – Museo Soumaya Plaza Carso, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=35846297

Bright Star

Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come,
the glory of the Lord shines upon you.
See, darkness covers the earth,
and thick clouds cover the peoples;
but upon you the LORD shines,
and over you appears his glory.
Nations shall walk by your light,
and kings by your shining radiance.
Raise your eyes and look about;
they all gather and come to you:
your sons come from afar,
and your daughters in the arms of their nurses.
—Isaiah 60:1-6

When wise men turn from learning
the strictures of the page
to seek a bright star burning,
an infant as their sage,
the wisdom of the ages
our wisdom crosswise turns:
a key unlocking cages,
the light for which we yearn.

Our ordering and knowing
have all been rearranged
by that one bright star glowing,
and we shall all be changed.
We shall no more flee danger,
but kings shall leave their thrones
to bow before a manger
when Christ is king alone.

Though now the way is hidden
and hope is pale and wan,
yet that bright star is given—
To us is born a son.
His brighter morn is coming
that never shall grow dim,
the sun of justice dawning:
Come, let us follow him!

Incised third century A.D. sarcophagus slab depicts the Adoration of the Magi, from the Catacombs of Rome – translated as, “Severa, may you live in God”, Severa being the woman buried in the sarcophagus and likely the figure to the left of the inscription. Photo By Giovanni Dall’Orto – Own work, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3926530

We Saw a Star

We saw a star that did not rise:
a comet in the night half-spent
that rested low within the skies,
and where it beckoned, there we went.

Night after night it led us on,
'til all the ways behind were lost.
Our childhood constellations gone,
new lights arose with every dusk.

How could we steer by unknown stars,
or taste what these new breezes blew?
We held our course through day and dark
by that, the only light we knew.

And soon we saw with our eyes closed
the star, a lodestone in our minds
that led us still down weary roads,
a path that ever onward winds

past temples built for gods long dead,
past hillsides drenched in angels' light,
past one child in a manger bed,
and on in us the star shines bright.

The more the pathway twists and turns, 
the more we seek to follow still;
the more we follow, more it burns
to lead beyond the cross-crowned hill.

It leads, as all roads lead, to death,
and there beneath the darkest sky
we'll stop at last and catch our breath,
then trail the comet rising high.

The three Magi (named Balthazar, Caspar and Melchior), from Herrad of Landsberg‘s *Hortus deliciarum* (12th century) By Made at the Hohenburg Abbey, France, 1185 by Herrad of Landsberg (c.1130 – July 25, 1195) These illustrations are from a reproduction by Christian Maurice Engelhardt, 1818 – Hortus Deliciarum, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22578096

That Night

To the tune STILLE NACHT (“Silent Night”):

Weeping night, birthing night,
Mary calls: mother's plight.
In her labor she wails and she moans;
with the effort she cries and she groans
while the world is made new,
while the world is made new.

Troubled night, shocking night,
shepherds quake at the sight—
Heav'n dissolves in an ocean of fire,
deafens earth with its thundering choir—
yet they rise in their fear,
yet they rise in their fear.

Questing night, gasping night,
magi reel, take to flight.
This new star upends all they have known:
journey far to the newborn king's throne,
they will set out at once, 
they will set out at once.

Breathless night, searching night,
we are called to his side:
Helpless godhead, he weeps with our tears;
word eternal steps into our years.
All our sorrows are his,
all our sorrows are his.

Aching night, longest night,
yet it ends, morning bright.
Bound in linen, Christ lies in the stone;
he will wake when his hunger has grown.
Dawn breaks over us all,
dawn breaks over us all.

By Franz Xaver Gruber – Stille-Nacht-Gesellschaft, meinbezirk.at, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=83372286

Seers and Sages

For Epiphany. To the tune AURELIA (“The Church’s One Foundation”):

 The words of seers and sages
 wove spells we could not know,
 though deep we dug in pages
 to learn the way to go.
 Your words to men and mages
 no light to us would show
 'til, wonder of the ages,
 a star began to glow.
  
 Relentless, unabating,
 our search for unseen light,
 the years of weary waiting,
 of watching in the night,
 but oh! The hope unfading
 that trained our human sight
 to search in midnight's shading
 sees now your glory bright.
  
 O Sign of newborn wonder,
 now lead us night and day
 and split the night asunder
 to pierce us with your ray.
 And when we turn to plunder
 or left or right we stray,
 sound in our ears like thunder
 to keep us in your way.
  
 When shall we come before you?
 When shall our journey end?
 Though clouds and doubts obscure you,
 you light you still will send
 'til we come to adore you
 and kneel to serve your friends.
 Oh, mercy, we implore you
 upon our hearts descend!