Journey of the Magi

Mild he lays his glory by,

Born that man no more may die;

Born to raise the sons of earth,

Born to give them second birth.
—Charles Wesley

If you know me and my penchant for depressing turn-of-the-century(ish) literature, it should come as no surprise that Journey of the Magi is one of my favorite Christmas poems. First, it's T.S. Eliot—and who doesn't love T.S. Eliot, right? And second, it's just wonderfully written. I love the sound of it, the tone, and the ambiguity at the end—not to mention the exquisite details, the marvelous rhythm and alliteration, and the fabulous line breaks. Brilliant, Mr. Eliot. Just brilliant.

Here it is (and you can listen to Eliot read it here):
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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 towns 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.
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Just lovely, no? We could talk about the symbols, or the state of these Kings (glimpsing the birth of a new kingdom and then having to return to their former places where they are "no longer at ease"), or the ways in which the poem's imagery mirrors Christ's life and mission.

But aside from all that literary stuff, THIS is why I love this poem at Christmas: "Were we led all that way for Birth or Death?" What an amazing line! The birth is significant, for sure, but it's significant as the beginning of a life and a mission and yes, a death, that would be so very important.

As we celebrate the birth of the Savior, I am ever grateful for his death, and all that accompanied that event. For his atonement and for his resurrection. For the reality that because he was willing to descend below all things, I can rise above my trials and imperfections and sins; because he took on the pains and sorrows of the world, he understands mine; because of his sacrifice, my own offering—however paltry in comparison—is acceptable. I'm am beyond humbled to know that because of him, I am saved.

And that is what is beautiful about celebrating the miraculous birth of a baby in Bethlehem so long ago.