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All is Folly

Sleeping in snatches, with the voices ringing in our ears,

“This is all folly.”

In the last line of Sanza One, Eliot concludes not with the physical difficulties the Magi encountered, but with their self-doubts. Just what was “all folly”? The travel itself, the promise of the Christ Child? The voice they heard directly contradicted the command the Magi had heard at the beginning of their quest, although the Bible makes no mention of such a command.

With pressure from his literary friends, a disastrous marriage to a dancer, Vivienne Haigh Wood, and a near nervous breakdown, Eliot might have had reasons to believe his conversion “All folly.” But like the Magi, Eliot did not turn back from his conviction but remained a Christian until his death.

The Christian walk is not always an easy one. John 16:33 makes this promise: “In the world, you have tribulation. But take heart, I have overcome the world.” We have this assurance just as the Magi had the prophecies.

“Sleeping in snatches” was my usual nighttime pattern during the last nine months of my husband’s life. There was always some need of his that called me out of bed!

Reflection:

I never regretted accepting Jesus as my Savior, but there were plenty of times I wondered if I had the strength to finish my journey with an ill spouse. Did you ever feel God had called you to a task you were ill-equipped to handle?

Traveling at Night

A hard time we had of it.

At the end, we preferred to travel all night.

The first line echoes the harshness of the journey the Magi endured. With no rooms, dirty cities, and unfriendly villagers, the entourage decided to travel at night. The “night” in Eliot’s poem is both figurative and literal. At this point in the journey, they had no idea how much longer they would travel. Traveling at night not only shortens the trip but keeps them out of the heat of the daylight sun. In this second-to-last line of Stanza One, we can easily identify with the moods of the Magi; they are discouraged.

TS Eliot wrote in his poem, “Ash Wednesday”—his first published work since his conversion—”Because I do not hope to live again, because I do not hope, because I do not hope to live.” Eliot was turning away from his previous view of the world as a wasteland and seeking, as the Magi did, something worth living for.

During my many years as a spousal caregiver, I could have recited this line every day: I had a hard time of it. But like the Magi, I followed something other than my own desires.

Reflection:

As hard as the dark nights of the soul can be, all suffering has a purpose. Romans 5:3-5 says, “We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know they help us to develop our endurance.”

How have your own trials strengthened your faith and prepared you for the rest of your journey?

Night Fires

If the camels in Eliot’s poem were a problem, so were the men who cared for the camels! The Magi who followed the Star had not planned out their journey, nor adequately prepared for it, but they saw their appointment as divine: find the one promised in Isaiah 14:1, “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.”

The camel men, however, were hired hands. They had no vested interest in the trip other than getting paid. And when the going got rough, they simply left. Back to the silken girls and the sherberts, no doubt, or at least to an easier task.

Romans 13:12-14 says, “The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Therefore, let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light.” TS Eliot’s conversion was his own, “casting off as darkness” and attempting to put on the light. But it’s not an easy thing to do. Many temptations in the world call us away from the journey to Christ. Often those newly converted feel a spiritual high, a sense of excitement. It has been described as a transformative experience. Sooner or later, reality sets in and the road becomes rough and rocky, and we grumble.

Did I grumble during the years I cared for an ill husband and carried far too many burdens? Yes. More than once. But unlike the camel men, I never ran away. I knew that I had been called to a journey of my own, and while I did not really know the way, I knew that God did.

REFLECTION: What were some of the challenges you faced during your own faith walk? How did you endure them?

Regrets

Before his conversion to Christianity, Eliot had been known as the “enfant terrible” of the Bloomsbury set— which included Virginia Woolf, John Maynard Keynes, and E.M. Forster—writers in the first half of the twentieth century who rejected the social conventions of the day. In fact, Virginia Woolf predicted that Eliot would soon be tired of “Christian stiffness” and return to his former decadent lifestyle. But Eliot remained a firm believer in Christ for the remainder of his life.

In these lines of “Journey of the Magi”, Eliot asserts that the men had lived a prosperous life, able to afford the luxuries of that lifestyle. The gifts the Magi brought to the Christ Child would have been worth 4 million dollars in today’s economy. Rather than yearning to go back to that life of ease, the Magi on their journey became ashamed of the lives they had led, lives that had nothing to do with God. Elliot, as well, regretted the choices he had made before his conversion.

REFLECTION: Many people have a past that still haunts them. Jeremiah 31:3 says “I have loved you with an everlasting love.” No matter what we have done, God still loves us! If something from your past still bothers you, take a moment now to confess it and ask forgiveness.

Stubborn Camels

Here’s something you probably didn’t know: camels were domesticated by frankincense traders to make the long journey from Southern Arabia to the Middle East, a distance of about 900 miles! Job 16:13 uses the term “gall” to mean “that which is bitter.” And these camels, despite their ability to travel long distances and carry heavy loads, were sick of the journey! They laid down and, as their famous stubborn nature implies, simply refused to move. The Biblical account of the Magi does not mention that they traveled on camels.

I can relate, however, to Eliot’s description of the camels as being “sore-footed.” After nineteen years of caring for an ill spouse and more hospitalizations and surgeries than I care to remember, I was “sore-footed” in those last months before my husband died. In a word, exhausted. Like the camels, I wanted to just lay down—probably not in the snow—and call it a day. But unlike the camels, I knew that I needed to finish my journey as a wife because of the promise I had made at the altar.

REFLECTION: There were many times during the years of Ron’s illness when I just wanted to lay down and quit. Have you ever wanted to give up, even though you—unlike the camels—knew your journey was worthwhile?

 

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A Long Journey

 

 

The “Magi from the East” probably took the same path Abraham traveled from Ur to Canaan. Led by the Star, Eliot makes it clear with these lines that the three travelers could not choose the time of their trip. Who would have intentionally set out in the dead of winter?

Eliot noted that he wrote this poem very quickly. ‘I had been thinking about it in church,’ he told his wife, Valerie, years later, ‘and when I got home I opened a half-bottle of Booth’s Gin, poured myself a drink, and began to write. By lunchtime, the poem, and the half-bottle of gin, were both finished.’

The Book of Matthew is the only one of the synoptic gospels to include the visit of the Magi. Scholars argue that it is possible because of the declaration of “kingship” that these three foreigners bring to the Infant.

Another interesting fact about the opening lines of “Journey” is that they are an almost direct quote from a sermon given in 1622 by a preacher named Lancelot Andrewes. Eliot puts the lines in quotations since they are not his original words:

“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.”

How could a Magus. traveling to worship the Christ Child, quote a line from a 15th-century preacher? It and the use of Biblical quotations the Magi could not possibly know add to the mysterious narration of the story?

REFLECTION: These few lines make it clear that Eliot did not find the road to salvation to be an easy one. How hard—or easy—was it for you to accept the gift of Jesus? Were you, unlike the Magi, prepared for the journey?

 

Journey of the Magi:A Cold Beginning

A cold coming we had of it, just the worst time of year for a journey.

TS Eliot’s journey to faith began with doubt. Just as many hardships challenged the Magi, many difficulties assailed Eliot as he attempted to leave his past life behind and seek spiritual truth. Eliot’s earlier works, such as “The Hollow Men”, refer to the afterlife as “death’s other kingdom” and imply that we are all living meaningless lives. But after converting to Christianity, Eliot’s works took on a more hopeful tone. “The Four Quartets” has been cited as being “overtly religious” while “Journey of the Magi” centers on the Birth of Christ and the meaning it gives to humanity.

Eliot always contended that he had no “conversion experience” but quietly became a believer.

REFLECT: While he considered his salvation a very private matter and kept this conversion secret, it had such an impact on him that he wrote a poem as an allegory. How do you honor and recall your own salvation?

Journey of the Magi: An Advent Pilgrimage

Journeys are never easy. Each year as I set up my creche, I wonder about the mysterious Wise Men who journeyed from the East. We have only a few scant verses from the Book of Matthew about them:

Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, saying, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

Tradition has it that they were three astronomers who had been tracking the moving Star and believed in the prophets who foretold the coming of the Messiah.

Surely, I would think to myself, these three men—not Hebrews—were changed by their journey. It was the idea that eventually led me to write a previous Christmas story, A Star for Zachary, which told the tale of an elderly man who was a shepherd on a hill the night the Heavenly Angels announced the Holy Birth. His life had been changed forever.

T.S. Eliot’s poem, “Journey of the Magi”, holds the same fascination for me. Eliot penned the poem in 1927, the same year he became a British citizen. While the poem itself tells an allegory of the Three Wisemen’s journey to the Christ Child, making frequent reference to prophecy and Bible verses, it was also written by Eliot as an analysis of his own conversion journey to faith.

For me, the last five years have been an immensely difficult journey, full of obstacles and doubt as I was plunged into widowhood and the single parenting of an autistic adult. Yet along with the difficulties were also amazing discoveries of my own abilities as a writer, the building of a readership, and the decision to make the 2023-2024 school year my last as a full-time teacher.

Please join me on this Christmas Journey as we follow the Wise Men along the route to Bethlehem and reflect for a few moments on the Great Gift that leads us to Christmas morning.

After the End: Finding Rest

And there was a certain royal official whose son lay sick at Capernaum. When this man heard that Jesus had arrived in Galilee from Judea, he went to him and begged him to come and heal his son, who was close to death.” ( John 4:46)

I leaned my head against the wall for a moment, pausing to try and infuse some strength into my weary body. The walk from the parking lot, through the medical pavilions, and down the long hallway to the main hospital seemed to get longer every day. There were times when I ran down the hallway at top speed, anxious to get to the trauma ward or the surgical unit, afraid it would be my last chance to see my husband. There were other days, like today, when I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I felt exhausted, convinced I could easily melt into a puddle of tiredness onto the beige rug of the hallway. Desperately, I needed rest.

But after years of caring for a chronically ill husband, rest was not likely to happen.

The nobleman in John 4:46 would have known what I was talking about. While we are not told how long his son was ill, we can surmise it was not a sudden illness. Can you see him pacing the floor of his son’s room, sitting by his bed and holding the hand of his child? Can you imagine him calling upon all manner of healers and doctors to try and bring relief to his boy? I can; for years, we left no stone unturned to try and find a cure for Ron. We traveled up and down the East Coast, seeking answers to his chronic pain. I can empathize with this father, then, who likely had connections as a nobleman, perhaps was even in the employ of Herod.

Maybe he’d been given false hope. Maybe along the way a charlatan or two had promised a cure. In our twenty- year battle, we encountered more than a few of them as well.

Resources for Family Caregivers During the Covid-19 Crisis - IonaBut then the nobleman, this worried father, heard that Jesus was nearby, just 20 miles away in Cana. Had he heard of the first miracle Jesus had done at the wedding, turning water into wine? It is clear he knew something of Jesus; he addresses him as “sir”, which in the Greek is kyrie, meaning “lord.” It seems from what is told in the book of John that he had traveled alone; his servants later met him on the road. What is also clear is that he had faith that Jesus could heal his son. When Jesus said, “Go thy way, thy son liveth,” (John 4: 50) he did not question it. He knew it to be true.

Even as Ron suffered for so many years with so many maladies, I never stopped believing in God’s ability to heal him. I did sometimes wonder why He did not. It was often hard to reconcile that to a Father I believed loved Ron.

To me, the most important part of the story of the nobleman is not the healing of his son; we have many examples of Jesus’ ability to heal. What strikes me is this: This worried and heartsick father, probably weary from sleepless nights keeping vigil at his son’s bed, did not immediately run home. No. He believed what Jesus said. He believed his son was healed. I can hear across the years the sigh of relief he breathed. I, who have experienced the exhaustion that comes with caregiving, can also feel the weight of his body sag as his shoulders round, his head bows, and now bereft of the adrenaline that kept him moving forward, can now rest. That night may have been the first good night’s sleep he had in a long, long time.

Tag: sleep • Run Hard. Rest Well.And it happened because he took Jesus at His word, never doubting his son was now well.

I, too, take Jesus at His word. So many years of caring for an ill husband had left me depleted. During the years of caring for Ron, a restful night’s sleep was only a dream. According to Crossroads Hospice, “caregivers must sacrifice a great deal from their personal and professional lives.” I was among the 60% that still worked full-time (and often had two part time jobs as well). I can concur with the 55% of caregivers who say it is an overwhelming way to live. I need time to recover in body, mind, and soul.

God did not heal Ron. But God did take Ron home to heaven to live with Him. And it is now, as I approach the one year anniversary of his home going, that I am finding rest.

How can you take Jesus at His word? What promise can you claim today?

Ezer Kenegdo: The Power of a Woman

The Lord God said, “It is not good for man to be alone. I will make a helper(ezer) suitable (kenegdo) for him.” Genesis 2:18

March 3, 2000, 9AM

When Bonnie and I arrive at the hospital, we are still exhausted from the long night before, but propping each other up. The nurse I spoke with at 6AM told me that Ron had had a quiet night. My own sleep was punctuated by the cacophony of crashing metal and squealing brakes, an auditory reminder of my husband’s serious car accident. Later, I’d called various schools and reported absences, receiving murmurs of sympathy. We haven’t brought Allen with us this time; I want to be able to prepare him for the condition of his father. Last night in the trauma recovery room, Ron had been as still and gray as a waxed image.

My daughter and I hold hands and paste smiles onto our faces as walk down the halls of a hospital that is already too familiar, too overwhelming. We enter the ICU on tiptoe, loathe to disturb the silence broken only by the whirr of medical machines. Ron lies on a raised bed behind a blue curtain, his arms tied down with tubes and straps. The ventilator makes his chest rise and fall and emits the sound of wooshing air. I touch his hand. He stirs. Eyelids flicker. On the other side of the bed, Bonnie rests her hand on her father’s shoulder. He shudders, as he does sometimes in a bad dream.

We wait. We have been told by the surgeon who pieced together Ron’s broken body last night that his condition is serious, but his chances of recovery are good. Four weeks, Dr Huffman estimated, until he would be well enough to leave.

We believed her.

Crazy: A Diary: A story of faith and love (Life is Crazy: Living with Chronic Illness and Mental Disorder): Cobourn, Dr. Linda Waltersdorf: 9780692257487: Amazon.com: Books

The word “helpmeet” in the Book of Genesis is frequently read as “helpmate”, but both words in modern times have a demeaning connotation, implying that the Woman—Eve—formed from the rib of Man—Adam—was less than he, a sort of second-class human being.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

In Genesis 2:18, Eve is described in Hebrew as “ezer kenegdo”, difficult to translate because it’s two words. “Kenegdo” is pretty simple. It means “opposite, or alongside”; woman is equal to man, just different. “Ezer” is a bit harder. It is used 21 times in the Old Testament and according to Strong’s Concordance, means “to rescue, to save.” Ezer denotes strength.

Rather than being a mere “helper” to man, woman is to be his strength and his rescuer.

But I didn’t know this as a 21-year old bride, my handsome husband beside me, our lives before us. I didn’t know that the years after our marriage would cause me to grow in both strength and endurance, that the four weeks predicted by Dr. Huffman would become ten months, and then seep into nineteen years of continued rescuing from both physical and mental issues. I didn’t know the power that would become mine as I became both mother and father to my children, financial supporter of our family, and caregiver to Ron.

I grew into the role of ezer kenegdo. I pray that I did it well.

And on this, the anniversary of those long-ago vows we made to one another, I want to tell my dear Ron that, given the choice, I would gladly do it all again.

Despite the difficulty of so many years, I would still be caring for Ron if he was here. What is something that you would still be doing if given the choice?

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