At sunset, Father Athanasius
Far from home on his long last quest
(For forty years he had followed Ignatius
Spreading the word as he knew best),
Came on a mountain pass so hidden
None of his race its gate had found,
And came on a gate where none unbidden
Set his foot on its fertile ground.
A gentle stream this mountain fastness
Washed and watered – and kept crops grew
Though long had it lain as clad in darkness,
Yet clearly a shaping hand it knew.
As he walked by the mountain stream there sounded
Footfalls from the shrubbery close at hand,
Then at once the missionary was surrounded
By well-armed men in a solemn band.
The priest spoke out, clear and courageous
As one who does not fear his fate
“I have come to tell the truth of the ages,
A soldier’s promise to consummate.
“I know not if you would hear my message,
But God has called me at least to try”
—And he looked at the faces round him pressing
—”For in His name I must preach or die.”
An old man from the group stepped forward,
And said, “We will hear what you have to say,
Though strange indeed to our ears be your words,
Fear not, for ’tis only beasts we slay”.
The priest said “Friend, you have spoken kindly,
To this land God’s truth I would gladly bring,
But lest an uncouth boor you find me,
May I first pay courtesy to your king?”
* * * *
The old man looked at Athanasius,
Saying, as he gently smiled
With a bow at once serene and gracious,
“We have no king; for we follow the Child”.
“Be he young or old, I would meet your leader
With his leave, my mission can bloom and spread,
I can bring the Church to the souls who need her,
– And if not, then offer my life instead.
The old man smiled once again with patience,
“A king we had, in the days long gone:
Learned and strong, known and feared of nations
From Ocean’s shore to the mountains yon.
“He sought the scrolls and the spells of power,
Searched the stars for their secret signs,
Till one star he saw from his lone dark tower
Made him leave the land of his birth behind.
“With a swift farewell, on a course uncharted
He followed the star as its light led west,
Nor looked he behind as he swift departed
For an unknown land, on an untold quest.
“Many leagues he rode, through the darkness staring;
Till there halted by him as rose the dawn,
Strangers he knew, by their look and bearing,
His peers in rank, by the same sign drawn.
“The light led on to the sun’s last dying
—For Heaven shone through that single chink
—Till they came, through mountains and fields all flying
To a harsh, parched land at the world’s deep brink
“There they met a flattering king who told them:
‘Should you find the one whom the stars foretell,
Bring word to me; I would fain behold him
And my homage shall he receive as well’.
“But this land’s wise ones weigh fair words carefully
And our sage well read this fair Lord’s fell aim:
To subdue this land that he ruled so fearfully–
Child or rebel was all the same.
“The light led on – this land’s only welcome
—When it fell, they feared they had lost their way,
But it lit a hut by an inn to tell them
Where their journey ended at close of day.
“They were met by a couple poor yet courtly,
Young and old, lit with solemn joy
Our king gave his gift with words most lordly,
But knelt still at the sight of an infant boy.
“He spake not; and the child was silent,
But looked him through with age-old eyes –
Sad for a world all lost and violent,
Glad for the love of men, and wise.
“No eye could read what passed between them,
The solemn child and the kneeling king,
But soon as the small group round had seen them
High far voices seemed to sing.
“For an endless moment no sound, no motion
Came forth, and the very beasts were stilled,
As though they too had a wordless notion
Of a fear cast down, of a hope fulfilled.
“While above, the pilot star diminished
And it seemed the sky itself might fall;
But though one light died, with its high task finished,
Yet the heavens turned round that still ox-stall.
“In silence he bowed, and with leave, departed
As from a king, and he a serf,
Mounted his steed and straightway started
For his distant home half across the earth.
“No tale is told of his swift returning,
For he spoke no word as he rode alone
Till he came, with fever and fire burning
To break his crown and cast down the throne.
”So bright he burned, with a joy all-filling
It seemed his very life must yield,
And to quit this life he seemed well willing
As soon as a message had been revealed.
“He spoke and taught with an urgent passion
Yet soft – but treasured was every word,
For no king had spoken in such a fashion,
Nor ever was such a message heard.
“‘No Lord you’ll serve’, he cried with passion
‘Save Him who called me across the earth:
We must live our lives in a different fashion,
For the world is changed by this infant’s birth’.
“He told of the gaze of a child that promised
More than the world, a nameless hope,
Of an unseen light lit for us, and from us
Bright as the dawn on a snow-clad slope.
“Still we see that light, though by deep mists hidden
For the Child’s face shines on us all our days
And he pledged it ne’er would depart unbidden,
Nor even death interrupt its gaze.
“And strangest of all, not a word was doubted,
By wisest sage or beardless youth,
For his softest words rang like good news shouted:
His hearers knew that they rang of truth.
“Our gods we gathered and set them blazing
—For we had no need of their voices more,
So we pledged, the pyre about them raising,
An end to their calls for death and war.
“In their place he taught us the truth to reverence:
‘Speak no word to deceive or harm;
From this life daily expect deliverance
Then look on death without a qualm’.
“So we slay no more, and all harm we pardon
And though no soul fully can banish crime,
Yet we hold to the hope of a foretold garden
Beyond the crest of death and time.
“Strange be the tale of this far-off infant
We have never seen, yet for whom we yearn?
What of our hope, so keen and constant
The Child by the King’s side shall return?”
The priest seemed still, in a trance or dreaming
While his lips traced slowly a silent prayer,
As he raised his head his eyes were gleaming
And he stood as one shedding a weight of care.
Said the priest “Yet stranger the tale I bring you
Nor less that you know the greater part,
For the gift I bear I have seen within you
Sure as heart spoke unto heart.
“For this Child is my beloved Master
Who died, yet lives, and who shall return;
And of His truth” – here his heart beat faster
—“I have much to teach – and yet much to learn.”
(I wasn’t sure about including this one – it was written years ago, and now perhaps I’d feel it was a bit sentimental.
But there are some real questions underlying this – if one feels, as I’ve said, that nothing gets into the Gospels by accident, so the story of the Magi is not only true but intended for our edification.
It grew out of wondering what happened to the Magi afterward. Did they go home? It seems implausible they would have hung around another thirty years, to await Our Lord’s public ministry. And if they did go home – what did they say they’d found?
So I’ve had to posit a kind of private revelation – an idea no more absurd, I think, than God sending them a star. An incomplete revelation – I assume they’d have no idea of the resurrection, or the Church, and they wouldn’t necessarily have accepted or even understood the idea of a Messiah – just an inchoate notion of Hope and redemption, somehow acting through a Child. I tried to imagine the enthusiasm of someone who had sought some kind of magic talisman – and found Christ instead.)