We struggle to wait, whether that be in a shopping line, a ticket line, at a bus or train stop, even at a red light! When everything seems so instant waiting for the tea kettle to boil can be a struggle. Advent is a season of preparation and hopeful waiting. Today, I share with you a poem by Scott Cairns from his book Slow Pilgrim. Several years ago I had the opportunity to attend a summer workshop led by Scott and from that I learnt much about Scott’s poetry, my own attempts and the work of others. Scott’s faith tradition is Orthodox and within that tradition icons have an important place as devotional and meditative aids. Scott does not specifically identify the particular icon he has in mind when he writes his poem, so we are left to use our imagination. The photo above is used as a suggestion and a hint as to what he might have in mind! The link which follows offers an explanation of the above icon. https://omhksea.org/archives/1581
Please read the poem aloud to hear all its sounds, especially in those opening lines “wrapped and rapt” Don’t miss swaddle and tightly bound, or holds, beholds, and beholden, crux, cave, and womb. Pay attention to the way the poem is written, those line breaks are critical. Delight in this poem and allow your imagination to paint an icon and be prepared to wait, during this season of Advent.
Nativity
As you lean in, you’ll surely apprehend
the tiny God is wrapped
in something more than swaddle. The God
is tightly bound within
His blesséd mother’s gaze—her face declares
that she is rapt by what
she holds, beholds, reclines beholden to.
She cups His perfect head
and kisses Him, that even here the radiant
compass of affection
is announced, that even here our several
histories converge and slip,
just briefly, out of time. Which is much of what
an icon works as well,
and this one offers up a broad array
of separate narratives
whose temporal relations quite miss the point,
or meet there. Regardless,
one blithe shepherd offers music to the flock,
and—just behind him—there
he is again, and sore afraid, attended
by a trembling companion
and addressed by Gabriel. Across the ridge,
three wise men spur three horses
towards a star, and bowing at the icon’s
nearest edge, these same three
yet adore the seated One whose mother serves
as throne. Meantime, stumped,
the kindly Abba Joseph ruminates,
receiving consolation
from an attentive dog whose master may
yet prove to be a holy
messenger disguised as fool. Overhead,
the famous star is all
but out of sight by now; yet, even so,
it aims a single ray
directing our slow pilgrims to the core
where all the journeys meet,
appalling crux and hallowed cave and womb,
where crouched among these other
lowing cattle at their trough, our travelers
receive that creatured air, and pray. Scott Cairns: Slow Pilgrim
Prayer:
We ask that You O Lord,
will teach us how to
wait, watch, and wonder.
We wait for your Coming
yet know that You are ever present.
We watch for your presence
not just in one starry night
but in the ordinariness of every day.
We wonder about the mystery and majesty
of Your Spirit O Lord that touches us
and brings us to life,
day and night,
night and day.
In the manger of our own hearts
be born and be present in ways
that bring to life all that is good and godly.
Walk with us toward Christmas.
Walk ahead of us and call our name.
Walk beside us and save us from being lost. Amen.
Prayers, Poems, and Christian Ponderings 
You were correct to advise us to read the poem aloud. I heard anticipation in my own voice. It’s almost like climbing a ridge to see a city below, or waiting for a sunrise, or being told the story of Jesus’s birth by a shepherd who was there!
I’ve always viewed the Nativity, whether expressed in poetry, music, theater or in figurines on the mantel, as a story of anticipation. Shepherds waiting, Mary and Joseph waiting, the Wise Men waiting. As a very young child, my mother decided that we needed to have a manger scene. She purchased the figures of Mary and Joseph, beautiful, delicate and breakable. I asked where the infant Jesus was, and my mother said, “Let’s see how we do with these first.” That meant I could play with them but had to be careful and not break them. She proceeded to buy one or two figures each week. I could barely stand the wait, asking every day when we could get another figure. It would be two Christmases before we had a complete set with all the players, including animals. It was a long wait, to which my mother said, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it!”
It would be over 3 decades later when my own toddler reached for the figure of the camel and I hurried to warn her to be careful. I asked my mother if we should put them in a higher place. No, she said, they are there to enjoy. I recalled how long I had waited for the set, and felt happy that my own daughter didn’t have to.
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