An anagram for "Alec Guinness" is "Genuine Class".
That tracks.
This uber-late blog explores no longer fitting. Not because that waistband intentionally shrank after Christmas dinner (fickle thing!) but how a Christian soul finds itself progressively out of sorts with a modern world that seeks to corrupt it. As we —in fits and starts— grow in our faith, we will find ourselves increasingly at odds with the world around us. Peter 2:12 implores this point to us: "I urge you, as strangers and aliens in the world, to abstain from the sinful desires that war against your soul." His use of the word "alien" is perfect: it underscores how worldly values become increasingly foreign and hostile to us, leaving us as strangers in a land previously familiar, friendly, and fascinating.
Each Christmas Day I keep a private tradition with myself. No one else observes it, but I'll share it here with you: I read T.S. Eliot's "Journey of the Magi".
It's not a long poem. It's not even one of Eliot's best ("The Waste Land" enters the chat for that), but "Magi" resonates with a sense of modern desolation following contact with the Divine. Listen to the poem here, but it's even better if you can endure my description first.
This dramatic monologue recounts the journey made by the three wise men, or Magi, who arduously traveled long distances and endured many hardships to witness the birth of Jesus Christ.* The Magus explores the physical, emotional, and spiritual challenges faced during the journey. Foreshadowing symbols appear predicting Jesus' betrayal and mockery (the men "dicing for pieces of silver"), the impending crucifixion ("three trees in the low sky"), and the triumph found in Revelation (the "white horse in the meadow"). The Magus portrays their arrival as a paradox: the experience is strikingly understated, described as "satisfactory," yet the theophany evokes a sense of anticlimax rather than the anticipated ecstasy and enlightenment. The Magi are left with a profound sense of ambiguity and discomfort, now fully confronted with the difficulty of reconciling their old beliefs with the new Christian faith. Encountering Christ has both transformed and unsettled them. Though the Magus claims he would undertake the journey again, he wonders if its true purpose was the birth of Jesus or the death of their former selves. They returned to their kingdoms as sadder but wiser men, estranged from their former lives, ruling over "an alien people clutching their gods". They are no longer drawn to the distractions that once seemed so vital and fulfilling. The Magus even yearns for "another death," implying a desire for "escape rather than consummation." This disillusionment reflects the challenge of reconciling our "old" lives— lives in which we were spiritually dead— with our "new" lives in Christ. Like the Magus, we, too, must grapple with no longer fitting into this world, growing indifferent to its shallow luxuries and endless distractions. Yet, unlike him, we know the full story. The "new death" we long for is one of transformation and fulfillment. We are assured of a new kingdom; a home with many rooms prepared for us. This fills us with hope and leaves no room for doubt: we are both happier and wiser, particularly during this time of year.
Merry Christmas, dear Reader.
During Covid, the author rediscovered cityonahilldfw.com. Post-vaccination he snuck into a service and felt zero social pressure. He's a member now and everyone knows he sucks at small talk. They don't care: it ain't that kind of church.
Yeah, yeah, yeah... scholars now believe the Magi arrived about two years late and freaked Herod all kinds of out, but what's a poet gotta do to get some willing suspension of disbelief in this hizzy? Just go with it.
See also "A Readers Guide to T.S. Eliot, p. 164-165.
Eliot Trivia: T.S. Eliot dashed off this masterpiece in 45 minutes. I'm well past an hour just proofreading this blog post.
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