A Weary World Rejoices

This blog is usually about education.  As far as I can tell going into this writing, this one won't be.  I'm just meandering in my thoughts.  You are reading a blog called "On the Rabbit Trail," so you have to expect it will sometimes stray.

I was listening to a podcast yesterday, in which a musician was being interviewed about Christmas music.  He referenced "Christmas Time is Here," the song from A Charlie Brown Christmas as one of his favorites.  The interviewer said, "That's a little melancholy, isn't it?"  The musician talked about why he loved melancholy Christmas songs, and it resonated with me.  I have always loved songs like, "Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel" and "Lo, How a Rose Ere Blooming" and "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus."  These hymn writers seemed to understand something that modern Western culture has forgotten.  What made Christmas matter was that the world was dark and broken.  When Jesus was born, it wasn't into a holly, jolly time with a triumphant trumpet blast.  He came into a poor town, was announced to shepherd, was born to a poor couple, and spent his first nights in a stable.  He came to redeem us, and we killed him for it.  I'm not a church calendar gal, but my understanding is that the purpose of the advent season is to recognize and mark the time of waiting and longsuffering before celebrating the birth of Christ.

Some of the great songs written in war times were "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and "I'll Be Home for Christmas."  They recognized in a different way that the world is not as it should be.  People pined for their loved ones and the things they missed.  They understood that they couldn't manufacture cheer while there were empty chairs at their dinner table.  

Today, I went to the grocery store.  As I entered, the music system was playing, "Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas.  As I left, it played "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree." I'm not saying these songs shouldn't have been played in the store or that they shouldn't be played in your home.  It felt strange today because, on the way to the store, I had been thinking about what a large number 300000 is when it comes to deaths from a single source and how it was like having 100 September 11th events in one year and how we really need to have some kind of national expression of grief like we did after the Oklahoma City Bombing and how I felt as a child when Ronald Reagan spoke after the explosion of the Challenger and what might be an appropriate time and method of doing that for this time (perhaps on the anniversary of the first documented American death, which I believe is in early February).  All of this was running around in my mind when I was told by the music system that this was the best time of the year and that I should have a cup of cheer, greet people on the street, and kiss someone under the mistletoe.  It just felt strange.

My favorite Christmas song of all time is "Oh, Holy Night."  There are a lot of reasons for this.  I have vivid childhood memories of it being sung in my church by a man whose voice could raise you so high you had to look down to see the Star of Bethlehem.  The origin story of the song is also kind of interesting, if a little controversial and its adoption by the abolitionist movement due to the line "Chains shall he break for the slave is our brother" just make it even more compelling.  Also, it is just a beautiful song with so much meaning and well orchestrated to bring your emotions to an apex just before "fall on your knees."  There's so much to love about this song.  

This year, what has struck me more than ever is the line, "A thrill of hope.  A weary world rejoices."  Perhaps that is because the world is so markedly weary this year, I love that this line notes that the world rejoiced and yet was still weary.  Hope is needed as much now as it was over 2000 years ago.  People without faith are counting on their hope coming from a political candidate or the vaccine or a stimulus check.  As Christians, we should recognize that our hope is from the same place it always has been, that child born in Bethlehem whose life and work and death and resurrection redeems us from our sins.  

I know my thoughts are not terribly well organized here, but I think the point I am making is this.  Take some time to listen to a slow, sad Christmas song this week and remember that Christmas is important because we had a need.  We didn't need to feel good.  We needed hope.  We didn't need lights.  We needed a redeemer.  We didn't need sugar cookies.  We needed a savior.  I like all of those things and am glad we will have them, but let's take a break from them for a few minutes to recognize the brokenness of the world and the answer to that brokenness.  Then, weary as we are, we can rejoice "for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn."