Christmas hope
Reflection on the past and today
The Christmas story tells of “good tidings of great joy,” but readers of the Arkansas Gazette on Christmas Day in 1921 might have doubted.
Lead articles brought news of a tornado that had ripped through Crittenden County, killing nine and seriously injuring 13. Another story reported that a group of kids had found a man hanging near Sugar Loaf Creek west of Hartford. He was white, and it wasn’t clear whether he had been lynched or committed suicide. A third article announced an “Atrocious Crime Wave in Chicago”—kidnappings and robberies.
And then a story about growing tension in east Asia, between Japan and the U.S. and other western powers. Meantime, “self-styled revolutionary radicals” within the Worker’s Party of America were reportedly “dedicated to overthrow the present government.” And then a couple of stories about the Ku Klux Klan, one focusing on the group’s outreach to the needy with food and gifts. After all this, a headline near the bottom of the front page—“Little Rock is all ready for a Merry Christmas”— comes as a jolt.
At Christmas we hear Bible verses that convey similar though competing messages. In Isaiah we read that “people walking in darkness have seen a great light,” while the Gospel of John says that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Does the light of Christmas roll the darkness back, or does it glimmer, irrepressible but small, in a more comprehensive murk?
Perhaps both. The birth in Bethlehem was the stuff of celestial signs and rejoicing, but it also triggered a wicked ruler, fearful of what the birth might mean, to order the death of myriad baby boys. Christmas in popular culture is full of sentimentality. The Christmas stories of Matthew and Luke speak of miracles, but never without an eye on the hardness of this troublous world. Jesus’ birth was an occasion for angel songs, tenderness at a manger and a cruel ruler’s rampaging—all at the same time.
Life in first century Palestine and 21st century Arkansas obviously differ. The winter solstice has just passed, but we have easy access to fresh tropical fruit—something no ancient monarch at a northern latitude could have imagined. And I wonder what Caesar Augustus would give for a flush toilet or the ability to lighten a room with the flip of a switch.
Yet the world of old Bethlehem and ours are similar for the simple reason that human nature hasn’t changed. However clever humans are as inventors—Roman engineers or software designers— they often feel an affliction of soul that craves help beyond human doing.
Among the terms borrowed from Isaiah and linked by Christians to Jesus are Wonderful Counselor and Prince of Peace. For as long as creatures like us have existed, we have needed good counsel and peace. The people of Bethlehem needed them. The Romans needed them. We need them today. When the clock turns to Christmas, we will need them. And we will need them the day after.
In the Arkansas Gazette of Dec. 25, 1921, we learn about a crime wave in Chicago. We read the same today. It will be a hard Christmas for the victims and their families.
Now as then, we learn of brewing tensions in east Asia, this time with China. For those in Hong Kong who have lost their civil liberties as the world stood by, it will be a hard Christmas.
Now as then, we read of political radicals seemingly bent on destroying present society with the goal of constructing an ideological paradise. For those whose jobs and reputations have been ruined by activists and the administrators who abet them, it will be a hard Christmas.
In a recent email, a former student referred to “these dark days of tribalism.” I thought that he had been fortunate to get through school before smartphones and social media. I responded, “Maybe the current fever will pass and we’ll be able to return to being decent humans again.” Or, at least as decent as we were a few years ago.
If that happens, it will be because we’ve chosen it. The angel announced “good tidings of great joy,” but this means something only to the extent that people respond.
This evening at services, many of us will hear Isaiah’s words: Wonderful Counselor and Prince of Peace. But counsel is wonderful only to the extent that people respond to it. And peace takes work.
We want joy. We want good news. We want good counsel. We want peace. We hope for these. But hoping isn’t enough.
King Herod’s response to a newborn’s birth, the first page of a Christmas Day newspaper 100 years ago, and memories of the conflicts we’ve experienced in our own lives this past year remind us that none of these things will take root unless we do something.
The birth at Bethlehem was a gift. But it only means something if we act.