Wednesday, December 27, 2023  

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Today’s Hymn

In the bleak midwinter,
frosty wind made moan;
earth stood hard as iron,
water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow,
snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold him,
nor earth sustain;
heaven and earth shall flee away
when he comes to reign:
in the bleak midwinter
a stable place sufficed
the Lord God incarnate, Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels
may have gathered there;
cherubim and seraphim
thronged the air;
but his mother only,
in her maiden bliss,
worshiped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give him,
poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I would bring a lamb;
if I were a wise man,
I would do my part;
yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

Christina Rossetti’s “In the Bleak Midwinter”
(tune: Cranham)
from Glory to God: The Presbyterian Hymnal

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Reflection

I can feel the crisp, sharp air and the dulled, quiet blankets of snow. I can feel the wind coming off of Lake Michigan waiting for the bus across the street from Fourth Church, in our Chicago version of this bleak midwinter night. This also evokes our North American/Western winter scenes of sleigh rides and stopping by dark woods on a snowy evening with (aptly named) Robert Frost. There is a sullenness, a bleakness bestowed upon winter. Ther hermit-ness of the season, the hiding away, the frozen iron of the world and coldness — yet that is precisely when Jesus is born and so we celebrate around family, friends, and colleagues — or are painfully aware of that loss.

This hullabaloo around Jesus, the angels, the archangels, the cherubim, and the seraphim speak to me of the obligation of the time; the ugly Christmas sweater parties, the eggnog, the caroling, the cookie making, the present gathering, the checking of the list — twice. None of it is bad, none of it is unwarranted, in fact, this is my favorite time of the year. But in this cacophony for Jesus, let us not forget, it is his maiden mother who alone worships him with a kiss.

This makes me think of my own mother, of mothers every Christmas sacrificing, preparing the way to make it the most happy and enjoyable yet, as a display of their gift-giving love. It is this simplicity and complexity of a mother’s love that encompasses this season (and sometimes that’s lost with the amazingness of Jesus): it is the willingness of one young girl to bring about a most human God into this world that is what changed humanity forever. Changed us forever. Changed you forever. Changed me forever.

Now, as the Magi journey to Bethlehem, the pilgrimage, the transcendence of having God on earth with us as a few day-old babe, let us come as well. Not as shepherds, or employees, not as wise men or women, not as analytical thinkers, or advisors, or policymakers, we are but those who offer our hearts.

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Prayer
May the blessing of this season greet you on bleak midwinter nights, that this is the time in Chicago where we are even more unified because of the snow, because of the wind chill factor, because of Lake Michigan. Let us remember the journey to Jesus is within us, is around us, is in each of us. Let us see the baby Jesus in each other, from this season until forever. Amen.

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Written by Jessica Wang, Member of Fourth Presbyterian Church

Reflection and Prayer © Fourth Presbyterian Church

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