The Three Kings

Last Saturday we went to St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church to hear the Orpheus Chamber Singers. As they wove an invisible pashmina of sound (!), my eyes welled up numerous times. How can we in Dallas be so blessed as to hear such gorgeous music. Spectacular.

They sang a favorite carol of mine by the Canadian composer, Healy Willan. You can listen to it right now if you have another Internet window open by copying and pasting this: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mGUE8vm0LTQ

"Who knocks tonight so late?"

The weary porter said.

Three kings stood at the gate,

Each with a crown on head.

The serving man bowed down,

The Inn was full, he knew.

Said he, 'In all this town

Is no fit place for you!'

****

Entering the Old City

Via Dolorosa 

It was late on this November afternoon when we started 

walking the Via Dolorosa in the Old City of Jerusalem. 

Such a wonderful place, the Old City.

Pilgrims carrying a cross

People at every corner were dreaming or buying.

Shops lined the narrow street. The air was crisp. 

I had to buy a shawl to keep warm.

Beautiful, old Jerusalem

Quickly our guide led us through the labyrinthine pathways. We turned the corner and suddenly were upon hundreds of people crowded into the courtyard of the Church of Holy Sepulchre -- a place of pilgrimage since the 4th century -- purportedly the place where Jesus was killed.

In the square outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

I am usually claustrophobic, but I felt peaceful even with this crush of people. 

The place was humming with energy as people waited. For what?

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

The sun was setting; the sky turned a rich blue and the old stones golden. 

So many people. So much energy to get in.

How could it be that this place, commemorating death, could be so full of life? What was happening?

When I went to seminary I learned a great word: proleptic. It means that we see the whole picture. One thing represents what is going to happen. To me, it explains why we celebrate Christmas and why we would visit the place where Jesus has died. We know that these events point to bigger events. Even our own lives are wrapped up in this birth, this death, this resurrection. We know this story. Life/Death/Life.

With a dozen others, I squeezed through the door of the church and turned to my right to climb the narrow stairs. Reaching the top I found the candles and the flame. It was the light of Christ I was after, the light of Christ that I celebrate right now in preparation for Saturday night. Christmas. It was the invisible pashmina of Love, enveloping us -- all of us from around the globe -- and leading us to come, remember, pay homage, and rest.

A light in the manger lit;

There lay the Mother meek.

Said they, 'This place is fit.

Here is the rest we seek!'

Come, come. They loosed their latchet strings,

so stood they all unshod

'Come in, come in, ye kings!

And kiss the feet of God.'

                                               - Laurence Houseman (1865-1959)

Lighting a candle in prayer, wearing my Jerusalem pashmina