The bleak midwinter reflected in our backyard pond

If you invite an astronomer and a meteorologist to your Christmas party, make sure they don’t start talking about the seasons.  It could get ugly.  The astronomer will insist that winter doesn’t start until 4:21 tomorrow morning, and the meteorologist will tell him it began back on December 1.  In our nothing-is-simple world, it turns out that the scientists can’t agree on when the seasons start and end.  So, we have meteorological winter which began this year the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and astronomical winter that won’t begin until early tomorrow morning.

English poet Christina Rossetti wasn’t much concerned about the science of the seasons when she wrote about the bleak midwinter.  Whether it was 25 days or four days into winter, she wrote about that first Christmas long ago and its setting in bleak midwinter. Nor was she concerned about all those articles by the nitpicking scholars purporting to tell us when Christmas “really happened.”  (Likely not December 21, and almost certainly not in the year 1 A.D. – no year zero in our Gregorian calendar.)

Rosetti’s bleak midwinter describes our world in ways the astronomer and the meteorologist may not understand. Her bleak midwinter does not look forward to the inevitability of earlier sunrises and later sunsets.  It anticipates something much better.

Consider the first stanza of the poem which has become a favorite hymn for many:

In the bleak midwinter
frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron,
water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow,
snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter
long ago.

As 2024 draws to a tumultuous close, it seems as if earth stands hard as iron, water like a stone.  Political upheaval around the world, wars that will not end, a culture that has lost the ability to recognize what is good and true and right. In our own lives we are reminded that disease and death and loss are no respecters of persons. Life in the bleak midwinter cannot count on the return of earlier sunrises and later sunsets.

But then the second stanza:

Our God, heaven cannot hold him
nor earth sustain;
heaven and earth shall flee away
when he comes to reign:
in the bleak mid-winter
a stable-place sufficed
the Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

Our journey to the vernal equinox and the summer solstice offers no salvation to those of us living our lives in the bleak midwinter.  But our God does.  Our celebration in the bleak midwinter is not about the promise of spring and summer.  It is about one for whom a stable-place sufficed.  It is about God with us, the Lord Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Finally, the last stanza:

What can I give him,
poor as I am?
if I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
if I were a wise man
I would do my part;
yet what I can I give him,
give my heart.

Those living their lives in the bleak midwinter have something to do.  What can we give him?  Give him our hearts.

“It ruined Christmas for me,” my friend used to say of a long ago and very sad event in her life. It had happened right before Christmas, and not only was Christmas sad the year it happened, she made sure it was sad every year, for decades, afterwards. Sharing Christmas sorrow with all around became her mission in life. Oh, she’d show up, a gloomy presence, at Christmas parties, and soon enough you’d hear her telling some unsuspecting guest about that Christmas past that ruined every Christmas present – and was sure to ruin every Christmas yet to come.

The thing is, though, you can’t ruin Christmas. You can misunderstand it. You can choose misery over joy, but you can’t ruin it. My gloomy friend could not ruin Christmas, as much as she tried, any more than Ebenezer Scrooge could ruin Bob Cratchit’s Christmas, as much as he tried.

It was never hard for me to resist my friend’s attempts to ruin Christmas. I like Christmas in its many manifestations. I can get picky about the historical and biblical accuracy of those Christmas card scenes with a star over the very European stable and the Three (!) Wisemen there on bended knee. I tend to think “not so” when we sing about no crying the little Lord Jesus made.  But I don’t need to let it ruin my Christmas. Continue reading →

During our time in Memphis last week, we had a great dinner at Belly Acres, a much-better-than-fast-food local hamburger restaurant. Although it was the evening before Thanksgiving, Belly Acres was already playing Christmas carols and songs as background music for the diners to enjoy. Bing Crosby was Dreaming of a White Christmas as you might expect, but he also sang the old English folk carol, God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.

God rest you merry, gentlemen,
let nothing you dismay,
remember Christ our Savior
was born on Christmas Day
to save us all from Satan’s pow’r
when we were gone astray.
O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.

I don’t remember when I first noticed the comma placement in the first line of the carol; I am pretty sure I was well into adulthood. I had assumed that the comma belonged before merry and that merry was an adjective describing the noun gentlemen. Apparently, those merry gentlemen needed rest. But it turns out that most hymnals put the comma after merry (the carol comes from sometime in the Seventeenth Century, long before anyone worried about punctuation).  Merry, then, is an adverb describing the rest the gentlemen seek. In the Seventeenth Century, merry meant more than a happy mood.  Adjective or adverb, it could mean pleasant, lovely, pleasing, peaceful, good. Continue reading →

Giving Tuesday seems like one more gimmick in our gimmick-addicted world.  Gimmick or not, Giving Tuesday reminds us that giving that helps others is not just a gospel imperative, but leads to joy and builds faith in our own lives. Giving Tuesday also encourages above-and-beyond giving that may stretch us past the offering plate or monthly contribution to our home congregation.

If you’re considering giving this Giving Tuesday, I offer three suggestions for your gift – causes Becky and I support and which we know help others and make the world around them a better place: Continue reading →

2024 has been a nasty year in terms of the national conversation. Most of us are glad the election is past, but we know the bickering is not. What might sooth our partisan pain? Perhaps a generous dose of thanks. The cultural left doesn’t like Thanksgiving because of the suspected colonialism and oppression infecting the story of the Plymouth Pilgrims. The theological right doesn’t like civil religion, and hence Thanksgiving, because it is theistic at best and its celebration rightly lacks credal integrity. Possibly fair criticisms on all accounts. But getting rid of Thanksgiving with its historical roots and questionable theology means we don’t listen to wise words from the past, and we have lost much. The cure will not take.  Give thanks!

Abraham Lincoln’s 1863 Thanksgiving Proclamation: Continue reading →