Holiday Tragedy

I have always been mortified by news of school shootings, but yesterday’s tragedy struck me harder than usual. I’m in my first year as a teacher myself, and although my students certainly frustrate me, I love them. I want to provide a safe place for them. I want to build their confidence in themselves. I want to open their ears to the beauty of language and their eyes to the wonder of humanity. I try to be the kind of teacher parents would want for their children—and I feel the weight of their trust. Sometimes that responsibility haunts me, especially when I feel that I’ve failed. Because of that, I feel more profoundly the horror of what happened in Connecticut: The week before winter break, a crazed man open-fired on kindergarteners and their teachers. Some of the victims surely had presents waiting under the Christmas tree. They had probably worked on a variety of Christmas-themed crafts, and excitedly insisted they be displayed on the refrigerator. Their families will spend Christmas in mourning this year.

Sobered by that tragic thought, I went to the rehearsal for my church’s Christmas program. The first song we sang was I Heard the Bells of Christmas Day. I choked back tears as I sang these verses:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,

and wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."

Christmas assures me that the day will come when “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

Carol of Joy

Green leaves all fallen, withered and dry;

Brief sunset fading, dim winter sky.
Lengthening shadows,
Dark closing in...

Then, through the stillness, carols begin!

Oh fallen world, to you is the song--
Death holds you fast and night tarries long.

Jesus is born, your curse to destroy!
Sweet to your ears, a carol of Joy!

Pale moon ascending, solemn and slow;
Cold barren hillside, shrouded in snow;
Deep, empty valley veiled by the night;
Hear angel music--hopeful and bright!

Oh fearful world, to you is the song--
Peace with your God, and pardon for wrong!
Tidings for sinners, burdened and bound--

A carol of joy!

A Saviour is found!

Earth wrapped in sorrow, lift up your eyes!
Thrill to the chorus filling the skies!
Look up sad hearted--witness God's love!
Join in the carol swelling above!

Oh friendless world, to you is the song!
All Heaven's joy to you may belong!
You who are lonely, laden, forlorn--
Oh fallen world!
Oh friendless world!

To you,

A Saviour is born!

First Christmas Thought

Even the most superficial reading of the Christmas story speaks of hope.  It is the story of a newly-united couple and the birth of their first child. A man and a woman begin a life together and a child takes his first breath; all three begin a journey of endless possibilities. For believers, this idea of new-life is, in some ways, the principle message of Christianity: Christ came so that we might “be born again” and “walk in newness of life.” And that rebirth is not limited to the baptismal ordinance, but it is repeated as often as necessary—God promises us that whenever we really want to, we can begin again (Mosiah 26:30). But even without that doctrinal significance of birth, new life and marriage, the story of Mary, Joseph and Jesus represents the hope of every life and new beginnings.

For believers, the birth of Christ exemplifies another aspect of hope. Since the days of Adam, believers awaited the coming of the Messiah. Most never saw their hope realized; as Paul says, “These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off…” (Heb. 11:13). Many people forgot what they waited for and many lost their hope. Christina Rossetti described this dreary and seemingly hopeless setting into which Christ was born:

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.

Into that metaphoric midwinter, Christ was born. This is another reason why Christmas is a holiday of hope—it represents the fulfillment of the long-awaited and hoped-for coming of the Messiah; the end of bleak winter. It is a celebration of the moment that the ancient saints saw “afar off” and a validation of their faithful lives. The hope with which they had both lived and died was realized that day.  Christmas says, “Hopes can come true.”

But it says much more too. Christmas is a celebration not only of the fulfillment of hope, but of its birth. In “Oh Holy Night,” we sing the words “A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” The hope of salvation and deliverance was born with the baby Jesus, and at Christmas we celebrate the break of dawn.

Today, we naturally look at Christmas through the lens of Easter, but at His birth, there was only a lens of hope—Mary, Joseph and the shepherds looked at that newborn child and could only imagine and hope for what He would eventually do and become. Christmas then is a celebration not only of what Christ did, but of the hope for what He would do—it is a celebration of the hope for Easter and for the fulfillment of all good hopes. At Christmastime we, like Abraham and Sarah and Anna and Simeon, celebrate that hope for what God will yet do. We still hope for deliverance, salvation and a day when there will be “peace on Earth, goodwill to men” in our own lives and in the whole world.

At Christmas, we celebrate the innate hope of each life and the fulfillment of our hopes. We are reassured that our own life is hopeful and that the good things we hope for will eventually come true. The British poet Charles McKay wrote of this Christmas hope in his poem “Under the Holly Bough:”

Ye who have nourished sadness,
Estranged from hope and gladness
In this fast-fading year;
Ye with o'erburdened mind,
Made aliens from your kind,
Come gather here.
Let not the useless sorrow
Pursue you night and morrow,
If e'er you hoped, hope now.
Take heart,--uncloud your faces,
And join in our embraces
Under the Holly-Bough.

I believe in the hope of Christmas.