Christmas is a holiday that celebrates quiet hope in the midst of grief. Just ask Anna, a Jewish woman living in Galilee during the time of Roman rule. It is unlikely that she felt optimistic about the future - her people were living without national sovereignty and in fear of religious persecution. Indeed, she named her daughter after the Hebrew word meaning "bitter": Mary. However, Anna had a secret unknown even to herself - she would become the mother of the mother of the Christ child.

Like Anna, we have much to mourn. As we reflect on some of the events of the past year, we remember that all is not right with the world, or the country, or the society. As we gather with loved ones to celebrate another joyful Christmas, we remember that there are many who are grieving. Beyond the warm havens of our homes, tens of thousands of Syrian refugees struggle to find safety, racial tensions continue to erupt in America's cities, United States Presidential campaigns lack civility and honor, mass shootings occur throughout the world with heartbreaking frequency, and as a jab at people of faith, a news magazine ran the headline "God's Not Fixing This." Even in the midst of the holidays, we cannot refuse to feel the events happening around us-- it's our world and our pain.

What should be our first reaction when we hear of any sad event, especially one that resulted in somebody's death? Mourning. Mourning is necessary to honor the dignity of a human life that has ended. However, taking time to mourn imposes on our celebrations, so who wants to stop to grieve when it's so much easier to go straight to being angry? But if we approach a tragedy without sadness, we risk approaching it without humanity. Before we use somebody's death as a political argument, before we become angry at authorities or groups of people, we should pause and hurt along with the family and community that lost someone. A person is not an argument for or against gun control or a criticism of politicians, and a person is not the way he or she died. A person is a person, with a name, purpose, stories, significance. And although tragedies absolutely merit action in response, grief is a prerequisite and a duty.

As a Christian, I believe that even in the midst of dark times, help is on the way. Rescue might not come soon - it might be generations in coming - but the pages of history are quietly turning turning towards hope. In the above icon, created by an 8th-century Coptic artist, St. Anna looks on with wide-eyed anticipation, and holds a finger to her lips as if keeping a sacred secret. Just as the child unseen in Anna's womb would one day give birth to Christ, we can be sure that the events that will lead to redemption are silently in motion.