THE MAGI ARE MOVING

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"The Journey of the Magi"
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Sir Alec Guiness
reads the poem by T.S. Eliot (1808-1965),
a Nobel Prize in Literature winner with a bent toward
the religious and the philosophical. It's from a
1961 recording on the Folkways label, titled:
Christian Poetry and Prose:
 Selected and Read by Alec Guiness.
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A cold coming we had of it, just the worst of 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 sherbert.
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 towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel at night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
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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 wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued.
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (as you may say) satisfactory.
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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.
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THE FOURTH WISE MAN
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The video clip below is a three-minute segment of a film based on Henry van Dyke's classic, The Story of the Other Wise Man, a fictional story set in Biblical times, told in gently comic terms. It concerns a Magi named Artaban (Martin Sheen) who studies the prophecies and witnesses a sign in the heavens that he hopes will lead him and his faithful servant, Orantes (Alan Arkin), to the Messiah. Artaban takes with him three precious gifts to present to the Messiah. For 33 years, Artaban and Orantes pursue Jesus, only to miss Him at every turn. Along the way, Artaban uses his gifts to help people in dire need. He now has nothing to present to the Messiah when he finds Him. The story culminates on Easter Sunday as Artaban, old and dying, finally encounters the new King, bringing peace to his final moments of life. A deeply moving tale, examining what
 true faith really means. 
Produced by PAULIST PICTURES
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THE FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

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Advent (from the Latin word adventus meaning "coming") is a season observed in many Western Christian churches, a time of expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of the Nativity of Jesus at Christmas. It is the beginning of the Western liturgical year and commences on Advent Sunday, called Levavi. The Eastern churches' equivalent of Advent is called the Nativity Fast, but it differs both in length and observances and does not begin the church year, which starts instead on September 1.

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The progression of the season may be marked with an Advent calendar, a practice introduced by German Lutherans. At least in the Roman Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, Moravian, Presbyterian and Methodist calendars, Advent starts on the fourth Sunday before December 25, the Sunday from November 27 to December 3 inclusive.

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Latin adventus is the translation of the Greek word parousia, commonly used in reference to the Second Coming of Christ. For Christians, the season of Advent serves as a reminder both of the original waiting that was done by the Hebrews for the birth of their Messiah as well as the waiting of Christians for Christ's return.
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The theme of readings and teachings during Advent is often to prepare for the Second Coming while commemorating the First Coming of Christ at Christmas. With the view of directing the thoughts of Christians to the first coming of Jesus Christ as savior and to his second coming as judge, special readings are prescribed for each of the four Sundays in Advent.
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From Wikipedia

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Our Advent Series really begins December 1,

(like an Advent calendar),

unlike the liturgical calendar, where it begins today.

However, we'll post this First Sunday of Advent material

as a nod to western tradition, and wait until Thursday

for our Advent Series - which we're updating from

last year's twenty-five days of photos, prayers,

music, and thoughts for the season.

Please come join us.

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Introit for the First Sunday of Advent

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To thee, O Lord, have I lifted up my soul: in thee, O my God, I put my trust; let me not be ashamed. Neither let my enemies laugh at me: for none of them that wait on thee shall be confounded. Show, O Lord, thy ways to me,

 and teach me thy paths.

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What the World Was Like 2,000 Years Ago
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From THE URANTIA BOOK
Part IV, 121, 1
 THE OCCIDENT OF THE FIRST CENTURY AFTER CHRIST 
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 Jesus did not come to this world during an age of spiritual decadence; at the time of his birth Urantia was experiencing such a revival of spiritual thinking and religious living as it had not known in all its previous post-Adamic history nor has experienced in any era since. When Michael incarnated on Urantia, the world presented the most favorable condition for the Creator Son’s bestowal that had ever previously prevailed or has since obtained. In the centuries just prior to these times Greek culture and the Greek language had spread over Occident and near Orient, and the Jews, being a Levantine race, in nature part Occidental and part Oriental, were eminently fitted to utilize such cultural and linguistic settings for the effective spread of a new religion to both East and West. These most favorable circumstances were further enhanced by the tolerant political rule of the Mediterranean world by the Romans.
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This entire combination of world influences is well illustrated by the activities of Paul, who, being in religious culture a Hebrew of the Hebrews, proclaimed the gospel of a Jewish Messiah in the Greek tongue, while he himself was a Roman citizen.
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. Nothing like the civilization of the times of Jesus has been seen in the Occident before or since those days. European civilization was unified and co-ordinated under an extraordinary threefold influence:
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The Roman political and social systems. The Grecian language and culture — and philosophy to a certain extent.  The rapidly spreading influence of Jewish religious and moral teachings.
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 When Jesus was born, the entire Mediterranean world was a unified empire. Good roads, for the first time in the world’s history, interconnected many major centers. The seas were cleared of pirates, and a great era of trade and travel was rapidly advancing. Europe did not again enjoy another such period of travel and trade until the nineteenth century after Christ.
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Notwithstanding the internal peace and superficial prosperity of the Greco-Roman world, a majority of the inhabitants of the empire languished in squalor and poverty. The small upper class was rich; a miserable and impoverished lower class embraced the rank and file of humanity. There was no happy and prosperous middle class in those days; it had just begun to make its appearance in Roman society.
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 The first struggles between the expanding Roman and Parthian states had been concluded in the then recent past, leaving Syria in the hands of the Romans. In the times of Jesus, Palestine and Syria were enjoying a period of prosperity, relative peace, and extensive commercial intercourse with the lands to both the East and the West.
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"VENI REDEMPTOR GENTIUM"

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It's the time of year for the birds to be returning for the Winter to the Rio Grande Valley in New Mexico. The video below is of those birds, set to the music of Paul Schwartz, a genius at combining the old and the new. The music is titled "Veni Redemptor Gentium." The words were penned (in Latin) by Saint Ambrose in the  4th Century; music/arrangement is by Paul Schwartz;  and vocals are by the incredible Lisbeth Scott. The title translates variously as Come Thou Redeemer of the Earth, Come Thou Redeemer of Mankind, or Come Thou Redeemer of the Heathen. In the world we live in today, the last version of the title seems to fit the situation best.  
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 "Veni Redemptor Gentium"
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Come, thou Redeemer of the earth,
 Come, testify thy Virgin-birth:
 All lands admire, all times applaud!
  Such is the birth that fits a God.
   Begotten of no human will,
 But of the Spirit, mystick still,
  The Word of God in flesh array’d—  
The promis’d fruit to man display’d.
  The Virgin womb that burden gain’d  
With Virgin honour all unstain’d:
  The banners there of virtue glow;
  God in his temple dwells below.
  Proceeding from his chamber
 free, The royal hall of chastity,
  Giant of two-fold substance,
 straight His destin’d way he runs elate.
   From God the Father he proceeds;
  To God the Father back he speeds: Proceeds,
 as far as very hell; Speeds back, to light ineffable.
 
O Equal to thy Father, thou!
  Gird on thy fleshly mantle now:
  The weakness of our mortal state
With deathless might invigorate.
   Thy cradle here shall glitter bright,
 And darkness breathe a newer light,
Where endless faith shall shine serene,
  And twilight never intervene.
   All laud to God the Father be,
  All praise, Eternal Son, to thee:
 All glory, as is ever meet,  
To God the Holy Paraclete.
 Amen.
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CHRIST OUTSIDE OF THE BOX

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There's something about an abandoned mission.

You wonder what made the congregation pick up

and leave. Here it's interesting.

The wooden vigas, the logs above that span the

thick adobe walls, are hidden by a dropped ceiling

reminiscent of a rec-room add-on, some misguided

soul's attempt at modernization, or worse.

The altar and one of the pews are still here,

albeit the worst for wear.

There's some minor trash about, and

some framing boards have been left on the altar.

But it hasn't been obliterated, totally junked,

like most old abandoned places

in the Southwest are, anymore.

The confessional space to the left

of the altar has a neat little nicho

to confess your sins through.

You wonder what relief came from kneeling

there. You wonder if any of it stuck,

if it made anyone feel the better,

if it made sense, even vaguely.

It must have.

The opening carved through the adobe wall

was an opening to redemption.

 

You enter the sacristy, the "prep" room,

through the arch on the right.

The little nicho is now in the far corner

on the left where there must have been

a chair for the priest to sit, reflect,

and pass counsel and penance.

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Did people come away with a weight lifted?

Some must have.

Did the good padre carry the weight well?

Quien sabe? Who knows?

The old adobe walls don't answer.
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It's interesting that there's no

trashy grafitti anywhere, just the name of Jesus,

religious slogans, a few designs, a couple of

crude paintings of the desert.

The altar and the framework that held

the tabernacle, the chamber/home of the

consecrated host - Christ Himself if you believe

church dogma - are in bad shape, the tabernacle

frame leaning against the back wall.
 

What happend here?

There's no answer.

Does Christ mind?

Hardly, I would think.

Do you think the body and spirit of

a Creator Son of the Universe can be

contained in a gold-plated box?

Do you think God cares about our childish

concepts concerning where God is,

what box we've put Him in,

and who has His ear?

Are you nuts?

This sounds vaguely ancient-Jewish to me.

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My friend Frank Ruiz and I are curious

about the place, but soon enough feel like

we've worn out our welcome with

the ghosts at San Jose Mission.

Or maybe it's not that, maybe not.

I don't know what, but it seems like

something is going on here, still.

Someone's looking over my shoulder.

But it's probably always this way, at old sites -

sites where people knelt down and prayed,

places where desperation and hope held hands,

places where both joy and sorrow said the rosary,

and winked at each other whenever they passed

through the entrada, one coming, one going.


Places where the energy still sits on the ruins -

like an innkeeper waiting for a traveler,

like a gatekeeper waiting for the guests,

like Christ outside of the box.

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