In the secularization of Christmas, the idea has entered the popular imagination (and unfortunately, most churches as well) that Christmas is really only a single day, preceded by an excruciatingly long Christmas season that starts after Thanksgiving at the latest. But traditionally, the season of Advent has been from December 1 to December 24, followed by Christmas from December 25-January 5. The only reminder most people have of this is the carol "The Twelve Days of Christmas", which most of us just sort of shrug our shoulders at. I personally had some vague awareness that the first few days of January were connected to Christmas, but I never really gave it any thought until I decided to Google it a couple weeks ago, prompted by the fact that my Advent devotional included readings for each of the twelve days. In any case, it's the eighth day of Christmas, so I thought I'd share some reflections based on my reading for today.

In the Winter of Our Discontent

Despite global warming, we still sing, "In the Bleak Midwinter." We do so because "bleakness" is not from snow and cold. It is winter among us: the chill of anxiety, the freeze of fear, the iciness of hate, the frigidness of exclusion and violence. Our discontent causes us to retreat into our comfort zones of tribe and mantra that exclude all "others".

In the bleakness of midwinter came God incarnate,

warming away winter anxiety,

thawing us away from winter fear,

melting us away from winter hate, and

breaking the frozen winter violence among us,

so that our winter of discontent may end.

We give thanks on this eighth day of Christmas that the Christ child came powerfully into the bleakness.

The carol says that the Christ child will have “my heart,”

even more my life,

thus an end to our winter of discontent. Amen.

(Walter Brueggeman, "Celebrating Abundance: Devotions for Advent", 87).

Brueggeman's words are timeless. The human condition is one of suffering and pain. We are surrounded by illness and death, by broken relationships and shattered lives. War is a near constant. Humans find ever more horrendous ways to exact cruelty on one another, to exploit others and trample them underfoot. This has been the state of the world since the Fall.

But these words are also strikingly relevant right now. We live in a world as torn and afflicted as ever. Our world is racked with war, genocide, and famine. Our nation is gasping for air in the midst of racism, police brutality, drug crises, gun violence, and seemingly endless political division. Winter in particular is hard. The cold is felt acutely by those of us who are forced to choose between adequately heating our homes and eating, and even more so by those of us who lack stable shelter. The short days and lack of sunlight make things worse for those of us already fighting our brain chemistry, leaving us in long periods of mental darkness. The holidays often recall painful memories of broken families and loved ones lost, and after they end, we are left with the long bleakness of winter, now devoid of the holiday cheer we once shared, no matter how artificial it may have been.

In the midst of this, Christ came down to us. He became one of us, not only human, but one of the poor and downtrodden, in a backwater province under military occupation, conceived in what everyone assumed was an illegitimate matter, but was in fact a demonstration of God's power and grace. He suffered alongside us- physically, emotionally, spiritual. He felt the full range of human emotions, experiencing loss and temptation and grief and oppression and every other horrible thing we endure. In the words of the prophet,

He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not. (Isa. 53:3)

The prophecy continues, telling us that not only has he suffered alongside us, but also for us:

Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed. (Isa. 53:4-5)

This is a message of hope for all humanity: all sexes, all genders, all races, all socio-economic classes, all nations- all can be reconciled to God through the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He calls to each one of us,

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matt. 11:28-30)

He is with us, always. These days are hard, but we do not face them alone.