06 January 2023

Praying at Christmas through poems
and with USPG: 6 January 2023

The Magi arrive at the Crib … a scene in a shop window in Askeaton, Co Limerick (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

Patrick Comerford

Christmas is not a season of 12 days, despite the popular Christmas song. Christmas is a 40-day season that lasts from Christmas Day (25 December) to Candlemas or the Feast of the Presentation (2 February).

Throughout the 40 days of this Christmas Season, I am reflecting in these ways:

1, Reflecting on a seasonal or appropriate poem;

2, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary, ‘Pray with the World Church.’

We arrived in Budapest late last night and Charlotte and I are staying at the Ecumenical Council of Churches in Hungary. We are spending the next three or four days visiting the Anglican Church of Saint Margaret of Hungary and Father Frank Hegedus with the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel) to see how the church and church agencies in Hungary are working with refugees from the war in Ukraine.

For many of the Ukrainain refugees, today is Orthodox Christmas Eve. In the West, the Christmas season comes to a close for many today with our celebrations of the Feast of the Epiphany. Traditionally, the Epiphany celebrates three events in the life of Christ: the Adoration of the Christ Child by the Magi; the Baptism of Christ by John in the River Jordan; and the Wedding Feast of Cana.

For my Christmas Poem this morning [6 January 2023], I have chosen TS Eliot’s ‘The Journey of the Magi.’

This poem was written after Eliot’s conversion to Christianity and his confirmation in the Church of England in 1927, and was published in Ariel Poems in 1930. This poem is truly a sermon in poem, and often on this feast, instead of preaching a sermon on this day, I have read this poem instead.

Eliot wrote ‘The Journey of the Magi’ after his conversion to Christianity and his confirmation as an Anglican on 29 June 1927, and it was published in 1930 in Ariel Poems. Later, Eliot became a churchwarden at Saint Stephen’s in Gloucester Road, London, and he remained a lifelong Anglo-Catholic.

The Adoration of the Magi, by Peter Paul Rubens … the Altarpiece in the Chapel of King’s College, Cambridge

The poem recalls ‘Dover Beach’ by Matthew Arnold (1822-1888), with the rhythm of journey and also Arnold’s recollection of how

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægæan, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.


Or where Arnold writes:

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.


The poem also shows some influences of the earlier ‘The Magi’ by WB Yeats, my choice of poem yesterday. But, unlike Yeats, Eliot’s ‘The Journey of the Magi’ is a truly Anglican poem, for the first five lines are based on the 1622 ‘Nativity Sermon’ of Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626), Bishop of Winchester, who first summarised Anglicanism in the dictum ‘One canon reduced to writing by God himself, two testaments, three creeds, four general councils, five centuries and the series of Fathers in that period … determine the boundary of our faith.’

The tomb of Lancelot Andrewes in Southwark Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2022)

Eliot’s poem recalls the journey of Magi to Bethlehem from the point of view of one of the Wise Men. In this way, the poem continues Eliot’s use of the dramatic monologue – a form adapted from Robert Browning. In this poem, Eliot chooses an elderly speaker who is world weary, reflective and sad – he works in a similar way in ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,’ ‘Gerontion,’ and with the Tiresias narrator of ‘The Waste Land,’ and possibly also with the narrator of ‘The Hollow Men.’

In this poem, Eliot’s narrator is a witness to momentous historical change who seeks to rise above that historical moment, a man who, despite material wealth and prestige, has lost his spiritual bearings. The speaker is agitated, his revelations are accidental and born out of his emotional distress, and he speaks to the reader directly.

Instead of celebrating the wonders of the journey, the wise man recalls a journey that was painful and tedious. He remembers how a tempting, distracting voice was constantly whispering in their ears on that journey that ‘this was all folly.’

The poem picks up Eliot’s persistent theme of alienation and a feeling of powerlessness in a world that has changed.

Instead of celebrating the wonders of his journey, the surviving Magi complains about a journey that was painful, tedious, and seemingly pointless. The speaker says that a voice was always whispering in their ears as they went that ‘this was all folly.’ The magus may have been unimpressed by the new-born infant, but he realises that the incarnation changes everything, and he asks:

… were we led all that way for
Birth or Death?


The birth of the Christ was the death of the old religions. Now in his in old age, he realises that with this birth his world had died, and he has little left to do but to wait for his own death.

The Magi arrive at a crib in a house on High Street, Stony Stratford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2023)

On their journey, the Magi see ‘three trees against a low sky’ – a vision of the future Crucifixion on Calvary. The Incarnation points to the Cross. Without Good Friday and Easter Day, Christmas has no significance for us at all. The birth of Christ leads to the death of old superstitions and old orders.

The ‘running stream’ may refer to the Baptism of Christ by John the Baptist in the River Jordan, which is also an Epiphany moment.

The ‘six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver’ recall both the betrayal of Christ by Judas for 30 pieces of silver, and the dice thrown for Christ’s garment at the foot of the cross.

The empty wineskins recall the miracle at the Wedding in Cana, which is also recalled at Epiphany time.

The early morning descent into a ‘temperate valley’ evokes three significant Christian events: the nativity and the dawning of a new era; the empty tomb of Easter; and the Second Coming and the return of Christ from the East, dispelling darkness as the Sun of Righteousness.

In his old age, as he recalls these events, has the now-elderly Wise Man little left to do apart from waiting for his own death?

He is a witness of historical change, does he manage to rise above his historical moment?

With his material wealth and prestige, has he lost his spiritual bearings?

Or has he had spiritual insights before his time?

The Adoration of the Magi … a window by Meyers of Munich in the south transept of Saint George’s Church, Balbriggan, Co Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The Journey of the Magi, by TS 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 when 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 dirty 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 wineskins.
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.

The Adoration by the Magi … an Ethiopian artist’s impression (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

USPG Prayer Diary:

The theme in the USPG Prayer Diary this week is ‘Refugee Response in Finland.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday by the Revd Tuomas Mäkipää, Chaplain at Saint Nicholas’ Anglican Church in Helsinki, who tells how a USPG grant is helping to support Ukrainian refugees.

The USPG Prayer Diary invites us to pray today (The Feast of Epiphany) in these words:

Let us pray for asylum seekers, longing to live in peace without fear. May God light their path and their destination be a place of peace and security..

Yesterday’s reflection

Continued tomorrow

‘Star of Bethlehem’ (1887-1890) by Edward Burn-Jones (1833-1898) … the largest watercolour of the 19th century, and now in Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery

Postcards from Lichfield
are reminders of how
life can come full circle

Framed postcards from Lichfield at a window in the Hedgehog Vintage Inn (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

There was a time when I sent postcards to friends and family from all my destinations, whether I was on holidays or on working trips.

And the postcards I received often ended up as bookmarks, along with theatre tickets and restaurant receipts, souvenirs of places I had visited or reminders that people had thought of me when they were away.

Two of us are in Heathrow Airport this evening, hoping to catch a plane to Budapest within the next hour or so for the first leg of a working week in Budapest and Helsinki. Charlotte and I are travelling with two other people from the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel) and the Anglican Diocese of Europe, visiting Hungary and Finland to see church-based projects working with Ukrainian refugees.

This is hardly going to be the sort of trip for sending postcards back home. But then, I think, I stopped sending postcards a long time ago. If I buy postcards these days, they are usually as keepsakes, pretty reminders of places I have visited and enjoyed.

Stamped and sent postcards are now such a rarity that they have become collectors’ items, and provide interesting discussions for local history groups.

In Lichfield, the late Dave Gallagher amassed a large collection of postcards that introduced many of the discussions on the Facebook group, ‘You’re probably from Lichfield if …’

After dinner in the Hedgehog Vintage Inn in Lichfield, I have often sat beneath two interesting collections of postcards. One collection includes a postcard showing the house in Lichfield where Samuel Johnson was born and another depicting Samuel Johnson’s statue in the Market Place.

A second collection of postcards includes Lichfield Cathedral, Beacon Gardens and Christ Church, Lichfield, and the back of one postcard has a personal message to Brother Samuel SSF, congratulating him on becoming the Guardian of Hilfield Priory in Dorchester. It is dated 17 March 1992 and signed ‘Anne and Tony.’

Sitting under those photographs in Lichfield again last summer, Charlotte quickly identified the senders of the signed postcard as Anne and Tony Barnard. This is a Pitkin postcard, and Canon Anthony Nevin (Tony) Barnard is the author of the Pitkin Guide to Lichfield Cathedral, as well as a book on Saint Chad and the Lichfield Gospels and a children’s guide to Lichfield.

Tony and Anne Barnard are now living in retirement in Barton under Needwood. I got to know them while he was the Canon Chancellor of Lichfield Cathedral and they were both involved in USPG. They were regular participants in the USPG annual conference in High Leigh and Swanwick, and we took part together in training days in Birmingham Cathedral for USPG volunteers and speakers.

When I met them again in September at the Annual Celebration and Reunion of former USPG staff and mission personnel at Holy Trinity Church, Sloane Square, I told them of how, only a few weeks earlier, Charlotte and I sat beneath the postcard they had sent from Lichfield Cathedral 30 years earlier.

They shared happy memories of visiting the Diocese of Kuching when it was twinned with the Diocese of Lichfield and of visiting Charlotte when she was placed there with USPG.

As we now head off to Budapest and Helsinki on behalf of USPG, I am thinking of how events in life can come full circle over just a few years.

Framed postcards from Lichfield at a window in the Hedgehog Vintage Inn (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Framed postcards from Lichfield at a window in the Hedgehog Vintage Inn (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)