Christmas has always been messy (from the first one till now). I don’t know why we have “decorated” it in such a way as to cover up that messiness. But, that’s what we do year after year, and often times with great success. We’ve convinced ourselves that what is “real” (the messiness in our own lives, the lives of others, and the brokenness of our world) becomes “unreal” at Christmas time. In doing so, we do an injustice to what is at the very heart of the season.
Howard Thurman, in “The Mood of Christmas,” writes: “The symbol of Christmas—what is it? It is the rainbow arched over the roof of the sky when the clouds are heavy with foreboding. It is the cry of life in the newborn babe when, forced from its mother’s nest, it claims its right to live. It is the brooding Presence of the Eternal Spirit making crooked paths straight, rough places smooth, tired hearts refreshed, dead hopes stir with newness of life. It is the promise of tomorrow at the close of every day, the movement of life in defiance of death, and the assurance that love is sturdier than hate, that right is more confident than wrong, that good is more permanent than evil.”
The clouds are heavy with foreboding in my world and yours. A worldwide pandemic exists. The cries of life are sounding. We walk a crooked path over rough places. Our hearts are tired and sad. Our hopes are diminished. The promise of tomorrow seems dismal. Hate seems sturdier than love, wrong more confident than right, evil more permanent than good. To ignore this reality or to pretend it does not exist, makes the very message of Christmas meaningless. It is the very “messiness of life” that gives Christmas meaning.
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