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Dear Ones,

As we close in on Christmas, we’re honored to share with you a poem from The Ordering of Love: New and Collected Poems of Madeleine L’Engle.

Consider this reflection a preview of the more substantial gift: a re-release of The Ordering of Love by Convergent Books. Complete with a new foreword by Sarah Arthur and a readers guide by Lindsay Lackey, the new edition will be available in February 2020.

 

The Risk of Birth, Christmas, 1973

This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war & hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out & the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour & truth were trampled by scorn —
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.

When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn —
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.

What comet might Madeleine have referenced in this poem? Well, according to the Internet, in the fall of 1973, scientists and the media had people hyped up about the Christmas-time appearance of Comet Kohoutek, which was supposed to have been “The Comet of the Century.” But by the time the comet was visible from earth — December 23, 1973 to January 2, 1974 — the comet was nothing but a disappointingly faint spot in the sky. (It made for a great poem, though.)

One more Christmas gift you don’t have to wait for: Enjoy these homemade family Christmas cards, created byMadeleine. Which is your favorite? (Mine’s the card from 1959 — very Wrinkle in 



Time-esque, with pets!)

Tesser well,

Erin F. Wasinger, for MadeleineLEngle.com.

Dear Ones,

On the way to work, I pass a house with a sign out front: “REMEMBER: Jesus is the Reason for the Season.” The sign’s a common enough sight in the Midwest every December … but I wonder as I drive by: Wouldn’t Madeleine have found that yard sign lacking?

For Christians, Jesus certainly plays a leading part in the season. But can we claim to be able to sum up the reason for the season in one word (or one Word)? What of the waiting, the recognition of God in the flesh and living among us now? What about redemption — and the party? What of the “glorious mysteries” inherent to a season where God comes to earth via a teenage girl, a virgin?

All these things are explored in poems, reflections, and short stories in the new edition of Miracle on 10th Street: And Other Christmas Writings. The book released in late October by Convergent Books, bearing a new foreword by Diana Butler Bass (most recently, Grateful: The Transformative Power of Giving Thanks) and readers’ guide by Lindsay Lackey (All the Impossible Things).  Some of Madeleine’s words are unpublished elsewhere; others are excerpted from her 40 years of work, including two Austin Family stories.

As Butler Bass writes, Madeleine doesn’t “scold” readers into remembering the real meaning of Christmas. Instead, she asks us to contemplate the ordinariness of our days and just to wonder: whoa — God put on skin and joined us here. Butler Bass credits Madeleine’s focus on the incarnation to her Anglican faith. Anglicans are “Christmas people,” she writes, whose God has a certain “with-ness.”

“Anglicanism believes in a king who finds a stable and manger the most suitable of birthplaces, and who fetes his friends by serving up a simple meal of bread and wine,” she says in the foreword. “This is, more than anything else, a homey faith, a spirituality of humanness and hospitality.”

Readers will find evidence of a “homey faith” in Madeleine’s ruminations on icons, motherhood, her creative Creator, chaos and cosmos, and the interdependence of all creation. Madeleine’s curiosity about “glorious mysteries” keep the collection from sentimentality and religiosity. But while we’re exhorting each other to “remember,” consider Mary was a teenage virgin, bearing a son in a cave. The Christmas story is not a logical one:

“Had Mary been filled with reason / There’d have been no room for the child …,” Madeleine writes in the poem “After Annunciation.”

Had the Christmas story been filled with reason, there’d be no room for mystery. Maybe if we’re going to remember anything this season — yard-sign theology or not — it’s just that we can’t begin to understand every gift of the season. As only Madeleine could pen it in the reflection called “Such Smallness”:

“The neutrino and the unicorn
danced the night that Christ was born.”

And I’ve not seen either of those things on a yard sign yet this season.

Tesser well,

Erin F. Wasinger, for MadeleineLEngle.com.