Christmas this year is coming in the midst of a a year that has seen historic levels of refugees, people displaced by war and poverty across the globe. It comes in the midst of a year marked by terrorism and mass shootings, of an ugly presidential election, war, and a bad economy. There is no doubt that celebrating seems... off. How do we celebrate in a world marked by violence and sadness? Do we bury our heads in the sand and ignore this suffering, focusing on ourselves? Something is out of tune, to celebrate in a time of sadness.
On a personal level, can any of us look back on the past year and think that they have made no mistakes? There can be no doubt about it. We love poorly. We forgive grudgingly. Even when we mean well, we communicate badly.
And now it is Christmas, and we are supposed to celebrate. I have been pondering this disconnect during Advent. I have pondered it especially during the various music concerts that I have attended during the season. Music has always marked the seasons of Advent and Christmas, and this year I have been blessed to listen to some wonderful music.
It is interesting to me that the disconnect seems most apparent when I hear secular Christmas music. I am not saying that secular songs are bad; but they tend to emphasize an ideal -- how wonderful it is to be home with family and be together during the holidays, to experience snow and all the good things of the season -- which seems impossible to live up to. How many people can be home, and with a united family that they get along with perfectly, and stay there together, enjoying each other's company? If you're in Washington, DC, and experiencing the 70-degree weather, the songs about snow seem even more ridiculous this year. The disconnect between what we ought to feel and what we actually experience seems more apparent during such songs.
The disconnect, as I see it, is this: we are not who we want to be. Our world is not as it should be.
And the answer, as I seem to be slowly experiencing it this Advent and Christmas, is that that is really the point of Christmas: we aren't perfect, but there is hope. God comes and experiences what it is like to live in a broken world full of imperfect people. In a world which values fame, fortune and popularity, he comes as a vulnerable child, unknown, poor.
And so we build up. In a world marked by noise, I was struck at the courage of musicians planning elaborate concerts with obscure composers -- determined to bring beauty into a world that no longer recognizes it. And it made me ponder other small acts of bravery. In a world marked by loneliness, I am struck by the courage of those I know who invite a lonely neighbor to a Christmas meal. In a world marked by division, it is an act of courage to go celebrate Christmas with one's family, to be together in spite of differences. In a world of materialism, it is courageous to share with one another simple gifts, to share a part of oneself. Yes, Christ comes again in these small acts of building up, of loving, of sharing with each other.
I have not mentioned one of my favorite parts of these Christmas concerts: getting to hear the second and third and sometimes fourth verses of Christmas carols, which are at times packed with meaning and beauty. One of my favorites is the third verse of "O Little Town of Bethlehem," which gets at the heart of what I am saying -- albeit in far fewer words. Christ came into our imperfect world, and there is hope for people who are so aware of their weakness. And if we are silent, if we pay attention, and if we too, embrace our weakness and our dependency on God and on each other -- then we, too, can partake in these small acts of courage that prepare our hearts to receive him, and yes, even in this world -- to rejoice:
How silently, how silently,The wondrous Gift is giv'n!So God imparts to human heartsThe blessings of His heaven.No ear may hear His coming,But in this world of sin,Where meek souls will receive Him still,The dear Christ enters in.
