a christmas reflection

something happened to christmas this year. i know it has passed: the red cups are gone at starbucks, the flood of jewelry commercials has subsided, and the valentines merchandise is out, but it doesn't feel like it was actually ever here. the holiday itself was one of my favorites in recent memory, yet the season seems to have slipped by almost unnoticed.

there are several possible explanations for this phenomenon: our son spent the first couple weeks of december recovering from surgery, just the simple fact that we have a son which alters your life entirely, or my grandmother wanda's passing a week and a half ago. all those things may and probably do contribute, but another major factor occurred to me during christmas eve vespers.

one of the staple christmas anthems in nearly every protestant tradition is "joy to the world". it is a hard one to get away from, which is all right with me b/c it can be a profound song if i allow it to be. this year, as i sat in a crowded and uncomfortable pew, i was struck by the phrase "prepare him room", as i suddenly became aware of how little preparation i had made this year.

it is not that i have a recipe for reflection like that for sugar cookies, but i usually like to be a bit more intentional in considering the Christ child who came to speak love, hope, peace and joy into our world. this year i simply and quietly failed to make space, to prepare room, to allow christmas to sink in.

there is a song by a fellow named chris rice called "welcome to our world". essentially it is his thoughts on Christ's birth in a lowly manger and the mystery of the divine wrapped in infant skin. (if you would like to listen, i struggled to find a good video of it on you tube, and below is the least corny of them, but you would still be better off just listening and not looking.)



this song has always resonated deeply with me, especially the line "tender brow prepared for thorn". something about the contrast of Christ's violent sacrifice and the innocence of a newborn hits me hard, even more so now that i have an child of my own. my favorite place to kiss him is on his forehead, where softness and smell mingle together. the image of thorns and sweat stinging this flesh, face bloodied and bruised, is simply too much.

and yet this is the reality we remember at christmas. a child, born of a virgin, was sent by a reconciling god to declare good news to all humankind, and ultimately to die. the word became flesh, and moved into the neighborhood. may we all prepare him room.