Day 5—Thursday, December 4

Therefore be patient, brethren, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious produce of the soil, being patient about it, until it gets the early and late rains. You too be patient; strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near.
James 5: 7-8

The Christ Mass (Back Through Headlong Time) excerpt
By Walter Wangerin Jr.

IV (Strophe)

Is it the menses that teaches a girl
To tread ground with a guardant step as though
Hobbled by dread or by great sympathy?
When does she learn the earth is her sister? . . .

Did you, the farmer peered, swaller that seed?
His grandchild paused, her face lost in a smile
Of watermelon rind, frowning because
She trusted his decrees as trust a priest.

Swaller a seed, he said, your tummy swells
And soon you have a baby, Fi-fo-fum!
Well, soon the child was running the back fields,
Troubled, beseeching God about a seed.

Illinois soil is black as blankets. She
Stopped at a corn crib. Grandpa, his hands tucked
Under the bib of his overalls, gross
Contentment, came, and gazed away from her.

Illinois evening skies are amethyst;
Corduroy cornfields rug the farther ground;
The nearer ground is irrigated with
A running darkness down the rows. Black blood.

You worried? Grandpa wondered of the west-
Northwest. His grandchild did not nod. She frowned.
‘Cause eatin’ seeds, he said, it ain’t no bane.
Earth ate a load of seed, and look at her.

Look at her swell—green and so pretty, girl,
I want to cry. She’s pregnant, don’t you know.
I hear the woman low, hear the dirt down
Low, like a mama moaning lullabies.

Illinois cornfields form a church of pews;
Grandpa, slouching in the arched crib as priests
Slouch twice the Verba, had an acolyte
Beside him, lighting candles in her eyes.

All them seedlings are her litter, he said,
Her babies, curled and yearning to the birth.
Listen: hear the blood rush? Hear the deep
Roots drinking life? She heard. She heard. She learned—

That she stood on the holy woman, Earth,
Stood on a great womb fat to teeming young.
And when she walked it was with garden steps
She went—as women, crushing nothing, go.

Come fall, Fi-fo-fum, Grandpa winked, come fall,
He said, we’ll grind her corn to make our bread.
—That night engendered in a girlchild love
And a deep dread, both, for Earth and for her
Self, forever.

(Antistrophe)

Jesus was strong, strong as the storm;
He churned the waters ere he was born.

Jesus was merry, imp of the sun;
He caused the waters to giggle and run.

He raised a wave that slapped the shore
Not after birth—a month before!

O mother of our infant king,
How did he such a wondrous thing?

(And Mary remembers the primal days
With shining eyes and quiet praise)—

While I bathed naked in the lake
He kicked, for all creation’s sake.

My belly punched a pretty wave:
‘Twas him in a hurry, hasty and brave.

Oh, mine was a monstrous pod to bear,
Lord of the seas, the land and air:

But while he lingered in his daughter
I was the weather that dashed the water;

I was a planet, God’s low girl,
A green, complete, and turning world.

          Earth! Sweet earth!
                  With love we burst.

Wangerin, Walter, Jr.
"Excerpt from The Christ Mass (Back Through Headlong Time)." The Manger Is Empty: Stories in Time. San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 1994. 51-53.