I thought I'd share something I wrote for my beloved choir folks, for our mid-rehearsal break, when someone from the choir reads a scripture and shares a thought. My choir peeps were incredibly tolerant of some of my longer pieces back in those days. This is from 2006, when I still lived my half-asleep existence: the ever-cheerful housewife, and mother of 4 small kids... Even so, it feels somehow relevant today, if only for Hardy's touching poem.
(Devotional on "The Oxen" by Thomas Hardy)
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Christmas Eve, and twelve
of the clock.
"Now they are all on their knees," An elder said as we sat in a flock By the embers in hearthside ease. We pictured the meek mild creatures where They dwelt in their strawy pen, Nor did it occur to one of us there To doubt they were kneeling then. So fair a fancy few would weave In these years! Yet, I feel, If someone said on Christmas Eve, "Come; see the oxen kneel "In the lonely barton by yonder coomb Our childhood used to know," I should go with him in the gloom, Hoping it might be so.
-Thomas Hardy “The Oxen”
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I must confess, this year's Christmas music is not giving me those lovely
warm-fuzzy moments, tears springing to my eyes, that the music of other years
has done. But, like other grown-up
tastes, The Hodie ( a choral piece with orchestra, choruses and soloists, by Ralph Vaughan Williams) is beginning to grow on me in a way that I know I will
eventually find very satisfying. Like I
do every year at the choir retreat in October, I read through the texts of our
concert work, looking for a lovely verse to quote in my annual Christmas
letter. I eventually found one, but it took longer this year than other
years. However, Christmas cards aside,
the first time I read through the poetic texts for this work, this poem, The
Oxen, was intriguing to me in a non-Hallmark-card kind of way. So, I did a little light research and found
out a few things. And as I thought about
the poem, and what the literary experts tell me about it, and reflect on what
I'm feeling this time of year, some things have become a little clearer, and I
thought I'd share them.
This poem, according to some
background I read, appeared in The Times of London on December 24th,
1915: a time, which, in some ways was a time similar to our own. That Christmas, England was involved in the
second year of a brutal, grinding war that was supposed to have been finished
before Christmas the previous year. The
Industrial Revolution was transforming society.
The prevalence of rationalism, science and consumerism had begun its
march toward overtaking faith and tradition.
I'll bet you can hear the echoes of that time here in 2006—science,
rationalism, consumerism, a brutal, grinding war what was supposed to be over
by now...
Hardy is writing wistfully about
a time when he would have believed his elders when they told him about the
magic that happens on Christmas eve—the English traditional myth that the
animals whose ancestors witnessed Christ's birth would kneel at midnight on
Christmas eve. He's looking backward and
longing for the good old days. According
to the author of the critical essay that I read, “the dominant feeling of “The
Oxen” is one of wistful regret or poignant loss at the passing of a secure
world buttressed by the allied senses of legend, tradition, faith in a
presiding deity, and community.” 1
I must confess that even as I am
in those “magical” years for my own kids—with their excitement over Christmas,
particularly with what Santa Claus might be bringing them, I am finding the
Christmas season to be a little “flat” and un-magical this year. I have NOTHING to complain about: I have a terrific, healthy family, a roof
over my head, all my needs are met, and yet I keep wondering when I'm going to
find that “zing”, that sparkling, pine-scented moment when my heart sings
because it's Christmas.
A couple of years ago, there was
a commercial for... I'm not sure what, that began with a woman's voice, talking
about her fond memories of all the wonderful things her own mother did that
made Christmas magical... and then there was the pitch for whatever the product
was—cake mixes? Bathroom cleaner? I
don't know... but the spot ended with “and this year, I get to be the mom”,
somehow emphasizing that the joy of Christmas would come in being the one to
provide the magic. And while that's true,
in a way... it's not the whole truth.
The truth is, once we adults become responsible for “the magic” of
Christmas, it can sometimes be a little harder to find the “magic” in our own
lives. I mean, what if that “build your
own solar-powered robot” kit that's on back-order right now doesn't arrive by
Christmas morning, and what if I can't find time to put together the
Gingerbread house whose pieces are in a box on the dining room table. And what if my kids stage a meltdown on
Christmas eve and refuse to go to bed while my husband is in charge and I'm
here, singing the 10 o'clock Christmas eve service?
AND here's where I hope to turn
from whining to rejoicing. Paul, in 1Corinthians 13:11-13 reminds us
that we, as Christians, have something more important than “the magic” to look
forward to. “When I was a child, I
talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways
behind me. Now we see but a poor
reflection as in a mirror, then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully,
even as I am fully known. And now these three remain, faith, hope and love. But
the greatest of these is love.”
So then, it seems I have a choice
this Christmas season. I can get caught
up in the wistfulness, the longing for the “perfect” Christmas of long ago, I
can wish that I saw the oxen kneeling.
I can sigh over the way the world has changed since the “old days”. I can worry
about being the one to produce the magic for my family, OR, I can turn
my mind to the real miracle of Christmas, Christ's incarnation and his promised
return. This might be the year when I,
“put childish ways behind me” and look forward to a sparkling moment when I “shall
know fully, even as I am fully known” (v.12).
Can there really be anything more heart-satisfying than to know God
fully and be fully known? So, for now,
if there's anyone else out there like me, feeling a little tired of trying to capture the “magic” of Christmas,
perhaps this is the year when we can claim a kind of grown-up consolation in
the words of a familiar scripture. (I'll
read it again, slowly, so you can let it sink in, maybe in a new way)
“Now we see but a poor
reflection as in a mirror, then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully,
even as I am fully known. And now these
three remain, faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” This Christmas, I pray that you will sense,
above all else, God's great love, shown in his willingness to come and live
among us and that THAT miracle will be
what sustains you through this season when we work so hard to find that magic
that Thomas Hardy looked for, “in the lonely barton by yonder coomb our
childhood used to know”.
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1.Allingham, Philip V.,
“Image, Allusion, Voice, Dialect, and Irony in Thomas Hardy's 'The Oxen' and
the Poem's Original Publication Context”,
www.victorianweb.org/authors/hardy/poems/pva141.html
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