bleak midwinter

“In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.”    Christina Rossetti

Some people really dislike this classic Christmas hymn.  I don’t know if they find it too grim and cheerless, or if they take issue because Christ’s birth probably didn’t take place in winter at all.  Christ likely was born in the spring of the year, and His natal celebration was moved to coincide with another pagan holiday Saturnalia, a Roman festival when people feasted and exchanged gifts.  They even decorated trees with small ornaments, each dedicated to a different God.  I understand how none of that sounds appealing.  But to dismiss Christina Rossetti’s hymn because of such problems ignores that she is saying so much more.  

First of all, the images of bleak winter, icy winds, rock hard earth and frozen water are such apt metaphors for the world that Christ entered as a baby, and that Immanuel comes to even now.  This world is so inhospitable to the divine, so consumed with basic human survival or outlandish human greed and bloodlust.  For Jesus to come as a baby into these harsh realities, to leave His heavenly home to dwell among us, must have been the most bitter of demotions.

But there is another side to this poem/hymn that elevates it, especially for women.  The Christ child is surrounded by feminine images, tended to by His mother, a humble maiden. Even the gifts of wise men and poor, male shepherds are eclipsed by a mother’s offering of a “breastful of milk” and “a mangerful of hay” for His bed.  This is the stuff of a homely, simple and maternal love. And the ultimate gift at the end of the song is the humble singer’s own heart. 

All we really ever have to give to Jesus is our hearts.  No other offering is of any importance to Him.  The miracle is, that once I give to Him my heart, He gives it back to me changed.  He transforms our stony, hard, icy, bleak hearts to hearts that are warm and tender and responsive to Him and to one another.  He trades the winter heart for a summer heart.  Hallelujah.

Thank you, Christina Rossetti, for packing your simple rhymes with such potent imagery.

Love, Liz