I’ve been to St James’ Hospital in Leeds tonight to visit one of my folk. I put a post on Facebook earlier which said “already lost - this hospital is HUGE!” Some people thought I had been admitted! I don’t like driving in a city and I don’t like driving in Leeds! Last time we were there I ended up driving in a buses only lane and was convinced I’d get a fixed penalty notice. Tonight we went in search of food after my visit and I think we went round the city centre three times. I kept saying “where do we go now?” It was stressful especially as I had cars right behind me so I couldn’t be hesitant. I am glad to be back in the rural sticks!!
When the journey is confusing we need help. Sometimes the sat nav gets it wrong. I tried to find someone in a tiny village yesterday and nearly ended up in a field! We need a signpost, a right turning, a clear direction to end our confusion.
Tomorrow is the feast of Epiphany. The word literally means making something clear. The readings from tomorrow to Candlemas in the lectionary ask us to look for the signs given us to work out who Jesus who has come is. The magi were certain following a star, however mad it seemed, was the right road to journey on. They didn’t know where the journey would end but they were certain it had to be taken.
The journey to find God is worth the effort - it may be straightforward or it might, like my night in Leeds cause us to go round in circles, it might feel too difficult. But it is worth it. I wonder if the magi felt like giving up? Remember they didn’t travel for just a few days, it was a long trek meticulously planned - but remember even the most carefully planned journey can have a surprise in it. Jesus was not to be found where they thought he would be. There had to be a detour to an unlikely destination.
I leave you tonight with the words of St Augustine: “Lord you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.”
Then some T S Eliot:
“A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.”
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.”
Let’s be brave and make the journey — but maybe next time I need to go to Leeds I’ll take the train!
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