My people

 On entering the house, [the wise me] saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. (Matthew 2:11)

Perhaps it’s pandemic fatigue, but this detail moves me to tears. I want to be with the wise men. So I kneel and see myself beside them in the eye of my heart. This is my place, and these are my people, souls who kneel before the beauty of God’s loving humility.

The wise men do not speak as I kneel beside them, nor do they speak in the story about their arrival at the place of Jesus’ infancy. Scripture reveals no dialogue between them, Mary and Joseph.

This seems right. Words distance us from mysteries only the heart can know. If you can say it, it is not God, St. Augustine wrote 17 centuries ago, and I have no reason to suggest otherwise.

So I just kneel there, in the presence of Love Incarnate, and let my poor heart sink into the well of knowing that opens within, surrendering all attempts to name what cannot be named in any language, except those of silent love and gratitude.

But words still come, a whispered “thank you.”

It’s funny ... or maybe predictable  ... that I notice others standing around as I kneel before Mary and the child who bears God’s infinite love. I know these people. Their faces are engraved on my heart. They smile and nod as they look at us kneeling there, gestures of blessing and assurance.

It is for this that we taught you, their faces say. It is for this that we loved you. But they do not kneel, for they look on from a higher plane, pleased that seeds they sowed actually took root and grew.

They are my people, too, like the wise men, hearts moved to worship the wonder of Love’s holy presence.

I long to be among such souls, listening, sharing, laughing and struggling together. It is a missing piece of life in these pandemic days. And it has long been a missing piece in the lives of many Christians and spiritual seekers of various types.

We need gracious and welcoming places where it is safe to kneel, at least metaphorically, and share the mysteries we feel ... that we may fall into the Love we most need.

David L. Miller