In the solemn midnight.

A CHRISTMAS HYMN

It was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up to might,
And now was Queen of land and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars;
Peace brooded o’er the hushed domain;
Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars
Held undisturbed their ancient reign,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.

‘Twas in the calm and silent night!
The Senator of haughty Rome,
Impatient urged his chariot’s flight,
In lordly revel, rolling home:
Triumphal arches gleaming swell
His breast with thoughts of boundless sway;
What recked the Roman what befell
A paltry province far away,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago!

Within that province far away
Went plodding home a weary boor:
A streak of light before him lay,
Fall’n through a half-shut stable door
Across his path. He passed — for naught
Told what was going on within;
How keen the stars ! his only thought;
The air how calm and cold and thin, In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago!

O strange indifference! — low and high
Drowsed over common joys and cares:
The earth was still — but knew not why;
The world was listening — unawares.
How calm a moment may precede
One that shall thrill the world forever!
To that still moment none would heed,
Man’s doom was linked, no more to sever.
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.

It is the calm and solemn night!
A thousand bells ring out and throw
Their joyous peal abroad, and smite
The darkness, charmed and holy now.
The night, that erst no name had worn.
To it a happy name is given:
For in that stable lay new-born.
The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.

-Alfred Domett

Lay it down beside the manger.

“Who among us will celebrate Christmas correctly? Whoever finally lays down all power, all honor, all reputation, all vanity, all arrogance, all individualism beside the manger; whoever remains lowly and lets God alone be high; whoever looks at the child in the manger and sees the glory of God precisely in his lowliness.”

― Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas

 

Prayer at Winter Solstice

In this interview on America, The Jesuit Review, Dana Gioia was asked for an example in his poetry of an expression of his faith. This is a poem he offered.

PRAYER AT WINTER SOLSTICE

Blessed is the road that keeps us homeless.
Blessed is the mountain that blocks our way.
Blessed are hunger and thirst, loneliness and all forms of desire.
Blessed is the labor that exhausts us without end.
Blessed are the night and the darkness that blinds us.
Blessed is the cold that teaches us to feel.
Blessed are the cat, the child, the cricket, and the crow.
Blessed is the hawk devouring the hare.
Blessed are the saint and the sinner who redeem each other.
Blessed are the dead, calm in their perfection.
Blessed is the pain that humbles us.
Blessed is the distance that bars our joy.
Blessed is this shortest day that makes us long for light.
Blessed is the love that in losing we discover.

-Dana Gioia, 99 Poems

Hazelnut and myrrh.

CHRISTMAS MAIL

Cards in each mailbox,
angel, manger, star and lamb,
as the rural carrier,
driving the snowy roads,
hears from her bundles
the plaintive bleating of sheep,
the shuffle of sandals,
the clopping of camels.
At stop after stop,
she opens the little tin door
and places deep in the shadows
the shepherds and wise men,
the donkeys lank and weary,
the cow who chews and muses.
And from her Styrofoam cup,
white as a star and perched
on the dashboard, leading her
ever into the distance,
there is a hint of hazelnut,
and then a touch of myrrh.

-Ted Kooser