Epiphany 2025 - January 5th
The poem I offer this week comes from Scott Bates. It’s cleverly written and takes the vantage point of one of the camels in the Epiphany story.
The Camel tells us about his own search and it’s not the quest we often think of at Epiphany. Usually, we think of the magi, and therefore the camels, searching for the Christ-child. And that’s true and right. They go looking and searching and it's a long and tortuous process, with many missteps, working night shift and a bad guy thrown into the story for good measure.
In Scott's poem, it’s as if the camel glimpses not only the Messiah but also the sense of community and service that the brat in the manger envisions and hopes for all of us. So the poem talks about that invisible commonality, that intangible web of support and nurturing one with another, when we dispense with what we think is important and take up instead a life of service and friendship. The camel discovers that this life is its own lasting treasure of infinite value. Far more precious and enduring than gold, frankincense and myrrh.
And it doesn’t matter where we happen to live, or what we do for a crust. Whether student, retired, pensioner or highflier, our real treasure is discovered in our conversations, relationships and friendships with each other. Love is made manifest in the everyday dishes and weeding and cuppa and silence and thought bubbles. Here in what we think is boring and dull, we discover Christ made flesh in a different, but no less authentic way.
There is an implied criticism in the poem of the kings for not having stuck it out and stayed with the Christ child–that’s why the camel has to slip away– We once were in touch with divinity and then returned to our normal lives. Having savoured and tasted divinity at the cradle the camel becomes addicted and like all of us longs for more, needs more because we have come to understand no matter how dimly and fleetingly, that we have been loved. That we are loved.
In his poem, Scott teaches us about the ebb and flow between secular and sacred. We come along and immerse ourselves in the dimension of the divine and then we scurry back to our everyday lives for what we think of as the secular. And while I get this and am guilty of it myself, the distinction is in fact false and misleading. Both Heaven and Earth are full of God’s glory. Yes, it is hard to see the divine out there. Outside the church building. But the divine is all around us and within. All of us lose our vision and must rediscover it outside the four walls of our own God box. And if you’re anything like forgetful old me, this looking and searching and glimpsing the divine is something we do again and again and again.
Scott gives us a couple hints as to where we might find our ‘new’ treasure. He writes…
It was dawn when I came
To this strange land
And found this family
Living here
Without a camel
Because they were poor
So it is often in the unfamiliar and the unusual that the Master reveals himself. In unremarkable things that are easily overlooked. And it is the unpretentious, those without any sense of self-righteousness or self-entitlement, those who just enjoy being themselves without any ‘dress-ups’, those who are poor, who have most to give us and who teach us most patiently the lessons that are vital.
You’ll probably recognise the Biblical allusion in the final stanza but, in case you don’t, it’s Jesus’ assertion (Matthew 19:24) that “it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven.” “Effendi” is Arabic for “Master.” Having ditched the gold, frankincense and myrrh, passing through the eye of the needle and into the new Jerusalem is a giggle and a cinch. What if we are in fact already there, walking the streets of gold with angels and archangels and the whole company of heaven…
By Scott Bates
I went all the way
But on the return trip
I gave the caravan
The slip
One desert night
Quit Balthazar
With all his frankincense
And myrrh
And headed out
Across the sand
It was dawn when I came
To this strange land
And found this family
Living here
Without a camel
Because they were poor
So I stayed with them
Carried their hides
Gave all the kids
Free camel rides
Sat with the baby
Worked with the man
Sang them ballads
Of Ispahan
Carried the water
Pulled the plow
Loved my neighbor
Who was a cow
I like it here
I’m staying with them
As I wanted to stay
In Bethlehem
With that other
Family I knew
Which proves Master
That passing through
The eye of a needle
Is an easier thing
For a camel
Than a king