In the Bleak Midwinter

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

Luke 2:15-19

Christina Rossetti was born on this day in 1830.

Every year we sing her wonderful Christmas Carol, “In the Bleak Midwinter.” It was first published in 1872, and simply called “A Christmas Carol.”

As I write this in Rhode Island, it feels like midwinter. And much of the northern half of the United States is caught in a deep freeze. But Bethlehem, Pennsylvania (and Bethlehem, New Hampshire) are very different from Bethlehem in Israel, where the high today will be in the upper 50’s and next week it will be well into the 60’s.

The weather described in the Christmas Carol is very different from the usual winters in Israel.

And, of course, scholars tell us that it is very unlikely that Jesus was actually born in December anyway. We celebrate his birth in the winter because some very clever Christians co-opted the pagan celebration of the winter solstice.

(So in a way it is only fair that the pagans seem to have reclaimed it. Looking at how it has become a celebration of consumption, we may well think that Holden Caulfield was right when he said that if Jesus could see Christmas, he’d puke.)

But whatever our reservations about the loss of true meaning and the departure from the historical realities of Jesus’ birth, we love Christmas.

And we love the carols, and I especially love this one. It is not first on my list, but it is up there.

And within the carol, I love the idea that “heaven cannot hold Him,” and I love the last verse.

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.

Of course, most of us who sing those lines in North America are not poor. By global standards, we are rich. Our problem is not that we cannot afford to give something to Jesus, but that we don’t want to. And we make believe we can’t in order to assuage our guilt.

We tell ourselves that although we cannot give something substantial in material terms, we will give our hearts. And by that, what we really mean is that we will feel all warm and fuzzy about Jesus and Christmas and our neighbors—at least for a few minutes in the glow of candles and Christmas lights.

I want to tell myself that this year will be different.

I really will give my heart to Jesus (again).

One of the great tragedies of modern Christianity is that for so many so-called Christians, it all comes down to believing. The only question is, do you believe the right things?

But to give one’s heart is more than believing.

Christian faith is not an intellectual exercise; it is an existential commitment.

Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always welcome. Please feel free to share on social media as you wish.