Author: Deacon Bob

ALL THE ENDS OF THE EARTH

All The Ends Of The Earth is based on Psalm 98, and is the responsorial psalm for Christmas during the day, and the common responsorial psalm for the Christmas season.

“O sing to the Lord a new song,
for he has done marvelous things.
His right hand and his holy arm
have gotten him victory.
The Lord has made known his victory;
he has revealed his vindication
in the sight of the nations.
He has remembered his steadfast love
and faithfulness to the house of Israel.
All the ends of the earth
have seen the victory of our God.
Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth;
break forth into joyous song and sing praises.
Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre,
with the lyre and the sound of melody.
With trumpets and the sound of the horn
make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord.”
(Psalm 98: 1-6, NRSV)

Psalm 98 seemingly encompasses much of the Christmas message. From the shepherds guarding their flocks in the fields to the Magi following the Star of Bethlehem, all of the ends of the earth, indeed, have seen the power of God in the stable of Bethlehem.

The psalm challenges us to ask the question, “Do I see the power of God Incarnate in the infant Jesus lying in a feed trough of oxen and donkeys?” If we do, the joy reflected in the melody of this song must radiate in our lives, in spite of the hardships and challenges of daily life. While we may feel at times burdened by the stuff of life, the knowledge that God loves us so much Jesus, the Word of God, became one with us, is capable of lifting that burden from our life.

I composed this back in 1986 as a Responsorial Psalm for the choirs at St Hubert Catholic Community. I reimagined this Psalm Setting as a song for piano in 2018. It is the piano setting that is bein presented here.

The Truce of Christmas

Passionate peace is in the sky–
And in the snow in silver sealed
The beasts are perfect in the field,
And men seem men so suddenly–
(But take ten swords and ten times ten
And blow the bugle in praising men;
For we are for all men under the sun,
And they are against us every one;
And misers haggle and madmen clutch,
And there is peril in praising much.
And we have the terrible tongues uncurled
That praise the world to the sons of the world.)

The idle humble hill and wood
Are bowed upon the sacred birth,
And for one little hour the earth
Is lazy with the love of good–
(But ready are you, and ready am I,
If the battle blow and the guns go by;
For we are for all men under the sun,
And they are against us every one;
And the men that hate herd all together,
To pride and gold, and the great white feather
And the thing is graven in star and stone
That the men who love are all alone.)

Hunger is hard and time is tough,
But bless the beggars and kiss the kings,
For hope has broken the heart of things,
And nothing was ever praised enough.
(But bold the shield for a sudden swing
And point the sword when you praise a thing,
For we are for all men under the sun,
And they are against us every one;
And mime and merchant, thane and thrall
Hate us because we love them all;
Only till Christmastide go by
Passionate peace is in the sky.)

GK Chesterton

This piano song is based on Luke 2:8-14

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” (NRSV)

REFLECTION: The word that best expresses what the shepherds felt is wonder. Isn’t that what we all want at Christmas. So many people want to recreate the wonder they felt as kids at Christmas. Isn’t that what the movie “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” all about. The goal was to create the Griswold Family Christmas. The movie teaches us that whenever we attempt to recover or recreate the wonder we experienced as kids in the past, it generally ends in failure. Perhaps, the cause of that failure is that the wonder we experienced as kids was more focused on what was the presents at the foot of the Christmas tree and a belief in a myth about an rotund elf and his reindeers delivering those gifts.

My parents always had as the main focus under the tree, not the presents, but the manger scene. The stable in which Jesus was born, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, sheep, oxen, camels and the Magi dominated the scene under the Christmas tree. We always saw first the Christmas creche, then we saw the presents.

Perhaps the shepherds in the scripture passage demonstrate for us the wonder for which most of us seek at Christmas. In the middle of the night, watching over their flocks, the heavens were filled with angelic glory, and the shepherds were struck with awe and wonder at the message of the angels.

This evening (I am writing this in the wee hours of Christmas morning) after getting home from Mass, I sat at the dining room table, lit a candle and began contemplative prayer. In a room lit only by the light of the Christmas tree behind me, I relaxed in my chair and focused on the light of the candle I lit on the table. Slowly breathing and using the psalm passage, “Be still and know that I am God”, I focused on the light of the lit candle. The flame danced on the wick, and as I continued to focus my gaze on that flame, I widened my gaze through my peripheral vision. Around the table I perceived my deceased family, dad and mom, my sister, Mary Ruth, my brother, Bill, my mother-in-law, Rosemary, my cousin Cheryl and our Great Pyrs, Floyd and Henri, sitting around the table and beholding the wonder and presence of God in the dancing light of the flame. As quickly as it came, my family faded away in the darkened room and I was again alone with the flame of the lit candle. I experienced a feeling of wonder, love and connectedness to my family members on the other side of life.

As you listen to this song, listen for the wonder in the song. There is no outstanding melody in the song. The song was composed through the experience of the shepherds, who found in their mundane experience of watching over their sheep, like they had so many nights before, the wonder and glory of God. You will hear in the music the place in which the shepherds behold and hear the message of the angels. This song was presented as a Christmas gift for Helen Kerber, accompanist and pianist for the Guitar Group at St Hubert Catholic Church in Chanhassen.

Here is the first of Christmas songs I have composed for piano. It was composed back in 1990 and was a Christmas present to my friend, Ken Smith, who, at the time, was the director of religious education at St Hubert Catholic Community in Chanhassen, MN.

It is a song in four parts, with four melodies, reflecting the Christmas story.

1) The first melody focuses on the angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she is to be the Mother of the Messiah. 2) The second melody focuses Mary meeting and taking care of her cousin, Elizabeth, who was pregnant with the child who would become John the Baptist. 3) The third melody, softer and much slower than the first two melodies is that of Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem to register for the census and trying to find a place to stay. 4) the last melody is comprised of melody 1 and melody 2, representing the birth of the Christ Child in a stable.

Below is this year’s poem for the Holidays. It reflects what we hear in scripture, when, through the prophets God declares to be the God of all peoples and cultures. It also reflects the spirituality and theology of the great Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, who saw the presence of God in all world religions. The Golden Rule of Jesus, “Do unto others and you would have them do unto you,” is something expressed in similar ways in all world religions.

GOD OF THE WINTER SOLSTICE

O God of the Winter Solstice
come to us!
As the darkness of the year
falls over all Creation,
it falls especially so in we,
who you have  created.

O God of the Universe,
we call you by many names,
and depict you in as many images
as there are people and cultures.
You are the Heavenly Parent
of every culture, of every nation,
of every religion.

How hard it is for us to see,
as we vie and fight over being
your most beloved,
unable to see that none
are favored over another,
for all are equally your favorite.

O God of many lights,
we recall your light
in our many rituals,
the light in which
you first touched our lives.

The lit candles on the Menorah,
and candles lit on Advent wreaths,
the multi-lit Yule trees in our homes
only remind us how starved
we are of your light.

The deep darkness of our ignorance
compels us to beg you
to cast your light into the
depths of our blackened hearts.

May we see your light
in the refugees we imprison,
in the immigrant babies and children
we separate from their parents;
in the people
whom we crush and slaughter
in our arrogant quest to be deified.

May our festivals festooned
with lights enable us
to see your light shine
in every culture,
every nation and religion.

May your light illumine our minds
To see that you fully embrace
every culture, nation, and religion
as your chosen ones
to love and cherish!

And as we bask in your unifying light,
O God of the Universe,
May your unified light in our hearts,
Be a living Sun,
beaming its brilliant light,
to the far reaches of the galaxy!

PSALM OFFERING 4: Remembered By God

Initially, I composed this hymn for my choirs at St Hubert in 1992. I was in my second year of diacoInal formation and dedicated the hymn to Deacon Bob Conlin, the director of the Permanent Diaconate at that time. What is presented here is the hymn reimagined for piano.

Remembered by God is primarily based on Baruch 5:1-9, the first reading of the Second Sunday of Advent, Year C, and a wee bit of Isaiah 62: 1-2.

“Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem, and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God. Put on the robe of the righteousness that comes from God; put on your head the diadem of the glory of the Everlasting; for God will show your splendor everywhere under heaven. For God will give you evermore the name, “Righteous Peace, Godly Glory.” Arise, O Jerusalem, stand upon the height; look toward the east, and see your children gathered from west and east at the word of the Holy One, rejoicing that God has remembered them. For they went out from you on foot, led away by their enemies; but God will bring them back to you, carried in glory, as on a royal throne.  For God has ordered that every high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low and the valleys filled up, to make level ground, so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God. The woods and every fragrant tree have shaded Israel at God’s command. For God will lead Israel with joy, in the light of his glory, with the mercy and righteousness that come from him. (Baruch 5:1-9, NRSV)

This is my adaptation of the text for the hymn I wrote.

Refrain

Let us prepare a way for the Lord
let us put on the splendor of God forever,
let us gather with all people and rejoice
or we are remembered by God.

May we give birth
to God’s tidings of joy to the lowly,
and heal all broken hearts,
and announce this time
of favor from our God. (refrain)

Upon the heights let us stand
and look East and look West,
and see all of God’s children,
whom God brings into our midst
with mercy and justice. (refrain)

May we be clothed
with God’s robe of salvation.
Wrap around us God’s mantle of justice.
And go forth led in joy
by God’s light that grows within us. (refrain)

We all possess the need to be remembered by someone in our lives. On the record album, Goodbye and Hello, there is a haunting song composed and recorded by Tim Buckley entitled, “Once There Was”. In the song, a man recalls his relationship with a woman who has left him for another man. Each verse ends with the man wondering if she will ever remember him. I first heard this song in the HBO documentary, “Letters From Home”. This documentary chronicled the history of the Vietnam War as told in the letters of the soldiers who fought the war. A letter from an American soldier who was killed during the Tet Offensive in 1968 was read in which he asked his girl from home whether she would remember him should he die in battle. This song was played immediately following the reading of that letter.

If it is so important that we be remembered by others during our lifetime, is it not far more important to be remembered by the God who loved us into creation? Baruch reminds us that while others may forget us, God never forgets us nor ever ceases to love us. As I grieve at the mistreatment of migrant children and their families on our border, I am comforted by the thought that these families are not forgotten by God. I also realized that God will not forget the harm done to these families by those who are responsible for the harm.

Here are two very lovely Advent poems upon which to reflect. One by my favorite poet, Denise Levertov, and the other by Kaitlin Hardy Shetler.

Annunciation

 ‘Hail, space for the uncontained God’
From the Agathistos Hymn, Greece, VIc

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
                   Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
                  The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
                                            God waited.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.
          ____________________________

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
                   Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
             More often
those moments
     when roads of light and storm
     open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
                                 God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

         ______________________________

She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.
Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
                          only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:
to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
                   Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –

but who was God.
Denisie Levertov

Sometimes I wonder
if Mary breastfed Jesus.
if she cried out when he bit her
or if she sobbed when he would not latch.

and sometimes I wonder
if this is all too vulgar
to ask in a church
full of men
without milk stains on their shirts
or coconut oil on their breasts
preaching from pulpits off limits to the Mother of God.

but then I think of feeding Jesus,
birthing Jesus,
the expulsion of blood
and smell of sweat,
the salt of a mother’s tears
onto the soft head of the Salt of the Earth,
feeling lonely
and tired
hungry
annoyed
overwhelmed
loving

and i think,
if the vulgarity of birth is not
honestly preached
by men who carry power but not burden,
who carry privilege but not labor,
who carry authority but not submission,
then it should not be preached at all.

because the real scandal of the Birth of God
lies in the cracked nipples of a
14 year old
and not in the sermons of ministers
who say women
are too delicate
to lead.

-Kaitlin Hardy Shetler

As the year 2019 closes, I would like to remember in song 25 years of life as an ordained deacon. In thinking back to that day of ordination, there is only one other day that was so life altering, the day that I married Ruth. The Church teaches that there is an ontological change that occurs at the time when we celebrate a sacrament. This change happens over a long period of time, slowly, and in many ways, unperceivable. Like the Catholic understanding of conversion, which happens slowly over time, there is no “on the road to Antioch” conversion that we would like to say happens to us. As I look back on 25 years as a servant of God and a servant of the Church, I have found that I am not the same person I was when I knelt before Archbishop Roach, and received the sacrament of ordination as he laid his hands on either side of my head.

At ordination, we promised obedience to the Archbishop and his successors. We go and serve at the discretion of the Archbishop. I have served as a deacon in a large, affluent suburban parish, in an on-fire social justice inner city parish, among the poor, the disenfranchised, the immigrant, and the homeless, two small town parishes, and two rural churches. Each parish, each community shaping my faith, enlarging my understanding of what church is, and, expanding my awareness of the visible, physical Body of Christ in each church community. In the majority of these church settings my ministry has been welcomed. And, in a relative few, my ministry was viewed with disdain and resisted. This is just a part of following in the footsteps of Jesus, who was welcomed and beloved by many, and resisted and hated by others.

There is no such thing as a 40 hour week as a minister in the Church. All my “contracts” promised 40+ hours a week, my normal work week usually between 55 to 60 hours a week. Being a deacon has impacted my relationship with my family, in that a lot of the time I spent was not with my family, but with the families I was serving in the parish. I had one day off a week, often a day in which most of my family were either at work or in school. I attribute the health and happiness of my children to my wife, Ruth, who is the heartbeat of our home.

Prior to ordination, I asked Jim Murphy, an ordained deacon, how his life changed following ordination. Jim said, “Before ordination, my life was 80% private, 20% public. After ordination, my life has become 90% public, 10% private. This proved to be true not only for me, but for my family. My kids, were impacted by my ordination, not only by my absence, but because they became the “deacon’s kids.” People in our home parish had higher expectations of them as the “deacon’s kids”. My kids were “tattled on” by nosy people of the parish when they left Mass after communion. I apologized to my kids for having placed them in that uncomfortable spotlight. They survived it. We survived it.

As a newly ordained deacon, it is easy to get consumed and overly-focused on all the smells and bells of liturgy. All the liturgical pomp and circumstance, the albs, stoles, dalmatics and ritual can be easily alluring, so much so that the deacon neglects the places where he is needed the most.

I was no different than many deacons. I cannot begin to count the number of Archdiocesan liturgies, Confirmations etc at which I assisted as the Deacon of the Mass. This is not to say that a deacon does not have a necessary role at Mass. Liturgical services are places in which deacons are most easily visible to the greater Church. However, the real place of the deacon is not the sanctuary of a church. It is serving those who are most in need outside the dark sanctuaries of a church.

That place might be on the street with the homeless, in the homes of those isolated by illness, injury, or age, in nursing homes, in the workplace, in the hospital, in rallies protesting the injustices of the world, in prisons. As one of my professors, a priest, said in diaconal formation, “We don’t need any more men in the sanctuary. There are already too many. We need you doing ministry as you shop at grocery stores, filling your car with gas at a convenience store, in the board room and councils, it is there the Church needs you the most to share your diaconal ministry. He was just restating in a different way that which we read in the Acts of the Apostles, Chapter 6, in which the apostles institute the order of deacon to help with the needs of the Greek widows and orphans.

Over the summer of 1994, I composed this music as a gift for my diaconal classmates. Each diaconal couple (with the exception of Ruth and I) received a piano song from me. I composed one for Dr. Delore Rockers, one of the most influential professors I had in formation, and one for Trish Flannigan, the administrative secretary for Diaconal Formation and the Office of the Diaconate in the Archdiocese. Trish was and always has been a member of my ordination class.

The songs were not meant as a musical portrait of each couple. But in listening to them again today, I find that they reflect the life of a deacon couple in music. From the “Procession” representative of liturgical ministry, to the “Meditation” in which the deacon couple find themselves placing all their trust and hardships in God, to the prayerful/meditative melodies of the deacon couple at prayer, and to the joyful dance melodies in which the deacon couple celebrations with those they serve. While not my original intent at the time they were composed, all this music is, indeed, reflective of diaconal ministry.

Here is the music with pictures of those for whom they were composed.

Dr Delore Rockers (alas no photograph)

Abba, Yeshua Ruah, originally was a song for choir and organ performed at the ordination of my class at the Cathedral of St. Paul. The text for the choral music is here:

ABBA, YESHUA, RUAH (c) 1994 written by Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.

Abba, may we be dwellings of your holy love,
the love which you grace all below, above.
May we be dwellings of your holy peace,
the peace for which all souls search and seek.
You loved so much that you sent your Son.
Only in him can we live as one.
Dwell in us, Abba, so that all may feel
the touch and the love of your peace-filled will.

Yeshua, may we be servants of you, Eternal Word,
Servants of you, compassionate Lord.
O may we seek you among the very least,
inviting all to your Abba’s feast.
You loved so much that you gave your life.
You conquered our death so that we may rise.
O Loving Jesus, may our bodies be
Your living bodies for all to see.

Ruah, O Holy Spirit come and make us whole,
enflame our hearts, our minds, our souls.
Inspire our actions, our fears relieve
so we may give to others what we’ve received.
Vessel of hope on our world outpoured,
Your healing breath our lives restore.
Infuse our lives now with your holy gifts
so in you, source of love, we may always live.
Abba, Yeshua, Ruah.

While for many the Christmas season begins on the Friday following Thanksgiving Day and ending on Christmas Day, for those of us who are Christian, the Christmas season begins on Christmas Eve and ends approximately two to three weeks later on the feast of the Baptism of the Lord.

As an ordained deacon in the Catholic Church for twenty-five years and as a professional musician for forty-four years, I have composed a lot of spiritual music, some of it vocal music for soloists and choirs, and some of it piano compositions.

Over the Christmas Season, December 24 through January 12, I will be posting the Christmas piano compositions on this blog. I also will be posting some spiritual poetry by famous poets with the music during this time.

I invite you to check out my site: www.deaconbob94.org during the Christmas seasons.

If you want to check out the music beforehand, you can find my music on many different streaming sites e.g. Spotify, Pandora, YouTube etc, or purchase the music on both Amazon and iTunes. The music will be under my name, Robert Charles Wagner. The piano collections in which the music can be found is Psalm Offerings Opus 3 (8 musical pieces), Psalm Offerings Opus 8 (6 musical piano pieces I wrote for my grandchildren), and Songs for the Refugee Christ at Christmas (10 musical pieces).

HOMILY FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT

In Paul’s letter to the Roman’s (1:1-6), we hear these words: “Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures,  the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name,  including yourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ. (NRSV)

When families gather, especially at celebrations as Thanksgiving and Christmas, we often speak of our ancestry. Stories are told of those not only present, but those who once were, those whose presence, while alive, had a great impact on the family. A distant cousin of mine, Anne Gallagher, is presently working on the ancestry of the Marron-Gallagher families (the Irish side of my mother’s family) and sharing documents, marriage licenses, death certificates, and other information about my great grandparents, great Aunts and Uncles in the general Pittsburgh, PA area.

In sharing the information and stories about our ancestors, their joys, their sorrows, their strengths and weaknesses, we get a better sense of who we are. As much as we may like it or not like it, we carry the DNA of our ancestors within us. I have been told by the Irish side of my mother’s family, that my arthritis and bad joints is directly attributed to the my maternal grandfather, Oscar Jernstrom. “You have the Swedish joints” is what I have been told. Having come to know my maternal grandfather through the memories of him through my mother, I know what a truly honorable, loving and just man he is. (Now that is a genetic trait I wish I could inherit). In a very real way, our ancestors take up home in our bodies, so it is best that we are at peace with our ancestors.

Paul briefly cites the ancestry of Jesus in this reading we hear on the fourth Sunday of Advent. The Vigil Mass on Christmas Eve will give a more detailed ancestry from the Gospel of Matthew (Note: as a point of interest, the ancestry of Jesus noted in Luke’s Gospel, is quite different from that of Matthew.). In doing this brief summary of Jesus, Paul does something very important. Paul tells us that through the incarnation of Jesus, the merging of the Divine into humanity, as brothers and sisters of Jesus, we are now part of Jesus’ ancestral line that goes back not to just David, but is traceable directly back to the source of all life, God.

We hold within our very cells not just the ancestral DNA of our human ancestors. We hold within our very cells the Divinity of Jesus.

How do we feel knowing that within the molecular structure of the cells that make up our body, we carry the DNA of Jesus? When we were baptized, we were joined intimately with Jesus as “priest, prophet, and king”. We are forever merged with the divinity of Jesus. Along with all the positive and negative traits of our human ancestors, we possess the divinity of Jesus Christ. How does this fact impact the way we live our lives? How does this fact direct our lives? Do we just shrug this fact off, as if it means nothing? Do we just say, “What’s the big deal?” Or do we allow the full impact of this fact affect the way we live and direct the way we live our lives?

Though the genes of my Swedish ancestors may affect negatively my joints (amongst the other negative genetic traits of my ancestors, Irish and Polish), they do not define who I am. As I continue to mature, I am becoming more and more aware of the important genetic impact of Jesus within myself. It is as if the genes of Jesus are stirring within myself a desire for the divine, a desire to be more than that of my human ancestry. You see, human ancestry, as interesting as the lives of our human ancestors may have been, is focused on the past, those who once had been. Our divine ancestry from Jesus focuses on that which we can become, that to which we can ascend.

On this fourth Sunday in Advent, may the divinity of Jesus stir within us a desire to become more like him this Christmas.  May his divine presence within us, inspire us and direct us to become more his living presence in our world.

As another Solemnity of Christmas approaches, I find myself reflecting on the Christmases of my past. As a facilitator of support groups, I have found the difficulty for people very apparent struggling during this “Season of Light and Joy”. The losses for which they grieve, be it a divorce, a death, a loss of job weighs heavily on them, almost snuffing out any joyful celebration of the birth of the Messiah.

Aside from one year in forty-two years of church ministry, the liturgies of Christmas were ones to be endured. I far preferred the long, complicated, multiple liturgies of Holy Week over the liturgies of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Holy Week liturgies are clearly focused on the Paschal Mystery of Jesus, while the liturgies of Christmas carry all sorts of emotional and spiritual baggage for people not all focused on the birth of Jesus.

So here are three Christmas poems reflecting on those Christmases of the past, and poem on the most significant day of my life, my wedding to my beautiful bride of 45 years, Ruth. Retired from full-time church ministry, this Christmas will be quite a change for me. It will be interesting to experience the spiritual impact of the Solemnity for me this year.

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS POEM

So much is said and advertised
about the rush for Christmas gold;
the tables and wares of the merchants
stand unchallenged crowding out
the vestibule of the Season of Advent.

It is easy to become jaded,
the rolling of eyes
as the cacophony of Christmas mediocrity
issues from the speakers in malls,
elevators and convenience stores,
its commercial hymnody of jingling bells,
well-lit reindeers, chestnut roasting,
and a meteorological disaster
of overly abundant snowfall.

Pious bracelet platitudes
on the “Reason for the Season”,
is not enough to stave off
the frontal commercial assault
on the Holy Day.

One must adopt the singular,
tenacious attribute of the bloodhound
to dig past the Christmas hoard and clutter
to reach the true Christmas present.
Only this present is not wrapped
In colorful paper and satin bows.
This present is wrapped in
swaddling clothes and found
in the most unlikely of places
… a stable.

THE SECOND CHRISTMAS POEM

Christmas can be an empty Holy Day,
a time when burnt out liturgical ministers
paste a smile on their faces
and through gritted teeth mutter,
“Merry Christmas.”

Trying to fulfill the unrealistic
expectations of a mythological
childhood Christmas of the
abundant Christmas throng
gathered at multiple Christmas liturgies
is not only a fruitless endeavor,
but is capable of sucking
the joy and mystery of Christ’s Incarnation
from the Holy Day.

Following the Christmas Day liturgies,
I stagger home exhausted,
a refugee awaiting the need
to experience the angelic
pronouncement promised
to the shepherds. From
your hands, my bride,
a Christmas offering,
not gold, frankincense, and myrrh,
but a glass containing
two ounces of brandy,
an ounce of sweet vermouth,
two cherries in a cocktail
glass filled with ice cubes;
thirty minutes of quiet solitude
whilst pondering and sipping
from the fount of the god, Bacchus.

The mystery of Christ’s Incarnation
will only be experienced long after
the rituals of church and family.

In a darkened room,
lit only by the colored lights
of the Christmas tree,
I sit in the gentle darkness
and behold the Christ child
in the quiet listening
to the choral Christmas motets
of Francois Poulenc and
Benjamin Britten (1). In the exquisite
music of these two gay composers,
I encounter ever so succinctly,
the mysterious revelation
of Jesus Christ, Emmanuel.

THE THIRD CHRISTMAS PRESENT

Two in the morning,
and the long drive home
from an afternoon and night
of Christmas Eve liturgies,
the air is bitterly cold
as my car and I climb
the long, steep hill out of
the Minnesota River Valley of Tears
to our home fifteen minutes away.

Dreams of our warm bed,
and three hours of sleep,
before awakening and
doing it all over again,
dominate my thoughts
during the long drive home.

I think of you at work
in the nursing home,
watching over the residents
in your care, as the shepherds
once watched over their flocks
in the deep darkness of night
in Palestine over two thousand years ago.

As I reach the crest of the hill,
and climb out on the barren plateau,
the light from the full moon
glistens off the frozen surface
of snow covered corn fields.
The moonlight reflecting off the snow
is as bright as the light of a noon day sun.

Enraptured by this brilliant light
high on the frozen plateau,
I turn off my headlights
and drive only by the moonlight,
experiencing the epiphany
of the Magi, as they traveled
by a similar light from
the Star of Bethlehem.

A POEM ON THE FORTY-FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF OUR WEDDING.

Forty-five years ago,
heightened anticipation,
a quickening pulse.
No, the Christmas Solemnity
is not the reason
for my heightened senses.

Christmas is just a mere distraction,
a ritual to be endured,
to get to THE ritual
which is far more important,
far more personally
earth shattering and life altering;
December Twenty-seventh,
the day of our wedding.

As much as our Hebrew ancestors
longed for deliverance,
multiple centuries of prophetic angst
awaiting, crying out to the Most High
for the promised Beloved of God;
so much so have I longed and awaited,
from this very moment.

From the time I fell in love
with you in the subterranean depths
of our high school band room,
my life and all my education endeavors
have been directed to this day
when we would finally be united in marriage.

Forty-five years later,
my senses remain heightened
as the Solemnity of our marriage
approaches, a Solemnity as
important as the Incarnation of God.

For our anniversary of our marriage
remains for me a Solemnity
marking the greatest experience
of Emmanuel, God with me,
as I behold God’s Incarnation in you.

* All poems by Robert Wagner (c) 2019. All rights reserved.

1. The Four Christmas Motets of Poulenc, and the Ceremony of Carols of Britten are the most inspired of Christmas compositions in my opinion.