CHRISTMAS of JOHN of PATMOS

Isaiah, the prophet, the author of the "fifth Gospel," speaks:
For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6)

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Luke, the Gospel writer, speaks. Or, rather, he has an angel of the Lord speak:
But the angel said to [shepherds in the field], “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:10-12)

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John of Patmos, exile, recipient of the Revelation of Jesus the Christ, speaks:
[A] woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars...gave birth to a son, a male child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron. But her child was snatched away and taken to God and to his throne; and the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God, so that there she can be nourished for one thousand two hundred sixty days. (Revelation 12:1, 5)

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A child born in the desert
the wilderness the haunted places
the edge of the town
spirited away before the powers
can descend upon the child
and the child's mother
with teeth of swords

before one beast or another
can strike

stars tumble like
flakes of snow
but perhaps this is not apocalypse
rather the vision the voice
of an angel with wings
held before a face of flame

and all will burn
all will melt and drain away

the cold of November
where there is glimmer in the waning light—
Rembrandt or Goya as the dark settles
things which John the Exile cannot know

—form presses forth
—body expresses itself

this is presence in the midst of frost
and the fire to feign it

—Orion rises in the
—early night-touched morn

becomes the darkness
of December

where John raises his hand
to the dark sky
to pluck a remaining starry fruit
from one constellation or another

to hold this ember
against his lips

to seal the words
in his being

to have flame
live as though light and life

—one more dream
—one more dream.

BETTER ANGELS

Jeder Engel ist schrecklich. Und dennoch, weh mir, / ansing ich euch, fast tödliche Vögel der Seele, / wissend um euch.

—from "Die Zweite Elegie," Duineser Elegie, 1912-1922, by Rainer Maria Rilke

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Every Angel is terrible. Still though, alas! / I invoke you, almost deadly birds of the soul, / knowing about you.

—from "The Second Elegy," Duino Elegies, 1939, translation by J. B. Leishman and Stephen Spender

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Every angel’s terrifying. Almost deadly birds / of my soul, I know what you are, but, oh / I still sing to you!

—from "The Second Elegy," Duino Elegies, 1977, translation by A. Poulin, Jr.

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Every angel terrifies. Still, though I know / how almost-deadly you are, you birds of the soul, / I call out to you.

—from "The Second Elegy," Duino Elegies, 1981, translation by Gary Miranda

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Every angel is terrifying. And yet, alas, / I invoke you, almost deadly birds of the soul, / knowing about you.

—from "The Second Elegy," Duino Elegies, 1982, translation by Stephen Mitchell

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Scarcely had I turned from my window, heavy of heart as only a near and certain joy makes us, when I felt an alien presence in the room. It was nothing more than a stirring of the air, so that the words which formed themselves on my lips were like the creases suddenly thrown off a limp sail before a fresh breeze.

—from "A Christmas Angel," Berlin Childhood circa 1900, 1932, by Walter Benjamin, translation by Carl Skoggard (2010)

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I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

—from "First Inaugural Address," 1861, by President Abraham Lincoln

ANGELS of LINCOLN

"We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle-field, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."

—from the First Inaugural Address of Abraham Lincoln, delivered on March 4, 1861.

ANNUNCIATION

Detail of "Annunciation" by Troy's Work Table. Carport chalking for Friday 11 December 2015.

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It's the time of angels.

It's Advent so it's the time of Annunciation. Christian tradition says the angel Gabriel to Mary.

It's the end of the year and, at times, it feels like the end of the world, so it's a time of Apocalypse. Christian tradition would have the angel Michael appearing to battle the forces of darkness and evil.

The cherubim and seraphim of the Jewish prophets, who then make an encore in the Revelation to John of Patmos.

There is Walter Benjamin's angel of history. And his Christmas angel. Paul Klee's Angelus Novus. The angelic orders/hierarchies of Rilke. The "better angels of our nature" of Lincoln. Pop cultural references. Mystical appearances to the saints. "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings."

It's a time for angels.

"Be not afraid."

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View more pictures of "Annunciation" HERE.

ANGELS of BOWIE

"How many times does an angel fall?"

—from "★" by David Bowie, as found on the album ★ (Blackstar).

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"Don't let me hear you say life's taking you nowhere, angel."

—from "Golden Years" by David Bowie, as found on the album Station to Station.

ANGELS of BENJAMIN

Angelus Novus by Paul Klee. India ink, colored chalk, and brown wash on paper. 1920.

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My wing is ready to fly

I would rather turn back

For had I stayed mortal time

I would have had little luck.

—Gerhard Scholem, “Angelic Greetings”

"There is a painting by Klee called Angelus Novus. An angel is depicted there who looks as though he were about to distance himself from something which he is staring at. His eyes are opened wide, his mouth stands open and his wings are outstretched. The Angel of History must look just so. His face is turned towards the past. Where we see the appearance of a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe, which unceasingly piles rubble on top of rubble and hurls it before his feet. He would like to pause for a moment so fair, to awaken the dead and to piece together what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise, it has caught itself up in his wings and is so strong that the Angel can no longer close them. The storm drives him irresistibly into the future, to which his back is turned, while the rubble-heap before him grows sky-high. That which we call progress, is this storm."

—Thesis IX, On the Concept of History, by Walter Benjamin, translation by Dennis Redmond.

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And then there is another angel...

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"I turned from my window, heavy of heart as only a near and certain joy makes us, when I felt and alien presence in the room. It was nothing more than a stirring of the air, so that the words which formed themselves on my lips were like the creases suddenly thrown off a limp sail before a fresh breeze. 'Once more each year / the Christ child dwells / on Earth below / midst weal and woe'—with these words did the angel who had begun to take form in them evaporate. I did not stay any longer in the empty room."

—from "A Christmas Angel" by Walter Benjamin, as found in Berlin Childhood Circa 1900, translation by Carl Skoggard.