I went to last Thursday what had to be the coolest Christmas party ever at a run down old home that some guys from our church are turning into a place called "The St John of Damascus Institute." A bunch of theology geeks, they get together once a week to talk about learning, poetry, the Saints, and their own lives over home brewed beer. Well, we ladies were privileged to be able to join them for a Christmas party with live mandolin music, carols, dinner and poetry recitations concerning Christ's birth. It was such fun!
I was so excited to hear this poem concerning the Incarnation by T.S Elliot from the Four Quartets. It's captivated me still.
Men's curiosity searches past and future
And clings to that dimension. But to apprehend
The point of intersection of the timeless
With time, is an occupation for the saint-
No occupation either, but something given
And taken, in a lifetime's death of love,
Ardour and selflessness and self-surrender.
For most of us , there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft on sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses,
Hints followed by guesses: and the rest
Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action.
The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is Incarnation.
I could say so many things about this poem but will leave that to you!
