Sad Christmas

Sad Christmas

It has struck me this year more than before, and it struck me again sitting next to my mom at her assisted living, listening to a guest group from a church singing Christmas Caroles. So many of the caroles are sad. Now maybe the choir had something to do with it, but they were doing something very nice for the residents, so I’m not going to blame them. Several caroles are written in a minor key. Some are sad. Some are downright depressing.

You might decide that sadness is in the ear of the listener, and that those songs wouldn’t be so sad if weren’t for my already sour disposition. Well, thank you for that, but if you don’t hear the sadness in the songs, then your sappiness has stolen your senses. There is something wrong here, black clouds and heavy hearts.

The Roman Empire rules. Herod is the fake king, given authority by Rome. The soldiers are not hidden, and the crucifixions on the road out of Jerusalem are sickening. The God that they worshipped has been silent for 400 years, which is a really long time (four hundred years ago for us would have been 1625). That’s how long it had been, and the people of God’s faith had grown old and brittle. The promises of God seemed stale. Little freedom and little hope.

So sad songs? What other kind could there be, given the situation? The authors of the caroles, written years and even centuries after the birth of Jesus, are seeking to catch the mood of “those living in darkness.” And then, finally, Jesus is born, and the Great Light shines.

When we get to this point, we think that every problem is solved, but it’s not. As Jesus lives and grows and then dies, Rome is still in power. Right after Jesus is born, baby boys around Bethlehem are murdered, because of the birth of Jesus, as interpreted by Herod. For so many families, the child is gone, and this First Christmas is Sad Christmas.

And this year, this Christmas for many will be sad due to the empty places around the tree and table. But Jesus has come, and that makes all the difference. And yet, and yet … does it? Because Jesus has come, and the chair is still empty. Yes, every tear will one day be wiped away, but that’s the rub - one day, not today.

For those who pray for a solution, we say that there is one, and there is. The solution is found in Jesus. He is gathering His people, and many children will come home. And we are glad for all the young people who find their way back. But the Scripture says a remnant will return, meaning that many will not, and we are not sure about yours, or if you will be alive to see it.

Christmas is sad when it is just about me and mine. It is the fallacy of judging the truth with only the facts at hand, and with the feelings of the heart. Christmas can only be glad when our faces are lifted to heaven, and we say with meaning, this is not all there is, and there the richness of the community of believers will be full and fully satisfying to all who are included. That is faith that battles with our feelings, and the feelings of those who suffered heartache and loss in very real ways. Our faith asserts that “it will be worth it all, when we see Jesus,” though it is difficult to explain now.

One of the caroles Mom and I heard sung, that should have been happy, but sounded sad, was “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. The third verse goes, “And in despair I bowed my head: ‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said, For hate is strong, and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to men.” Don’t get stuck in the third verse, for the song goes on and reminds us that our feelings can’t grasp the grandness of the finale. Only there from that perspective will we find meaning and comfort, and only by faith.