Listen to T. S. Eliot read his poem “Journey of the Magi” below or read the full text here.

It can be hard for a postmodern pilgrim when Christmas comes around, the ache of longing and loss more acutely felt as the beauty and power of the Christian narrative crescendos to its most profound and poignant expression in song, ritual, and symbol. For the disabused who still tremble at the mysterium tremendum but who are “no longer at ease here in the old dispensation,” the silence imposed upon them by their conscience is a frustration and a sorrow, a perplexing state of affairs requiring a deep surrender—an existential trust—which they most likely imbibed from the mystical currents flowing deep in the foundations of the very religious tradition from which the demands of good faith have exiled them. To add a little cherry to the top of this figgy pudding of paradox, the situation evokes none other than the opening lines of that most beautiful of Christmas hymns, “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence.”

Maybe, for us humans, who can’t seem to stop yapping our gums or arguing our positions on everything from whose religion is right to which toothpaste is best, silence is the only fitting response to an encounter with the Ultimate—and exile its best teacher.

Peace and joy to you all in this season that reminds us there is always a light in the darkness.

If You’d Like to Read more by S. K. KrusE check out…

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