Photo: Randi Hausken, Feb 23, 2008, CC BY-SA 2.0 DEED
A few weeks ago, I played "In the Bleak Midwinter" as a prelude at Calvary Church in Edina, MN (watch the full service on their YouTube page if you're interested). This morning we sang this hymn as well. "In the Bleak Midwinter" is one of my favorite Christmas songs -- and I'm not alone in that! Recently, it was voted the second most popular Christmas carol by Minnesota Public Radio listeners in their annual Carol Countdown. But why?
The melody and harmony are of course beautiful (I prefer the Gustav Holst setting from 1906 but the Harold Darke version from 1909 is also lovely!) But the music, beautiful as it is, exposes something powerful about these words. Words that cut deeply into our human experience. These lyrics are vulnerable and intimate. They express the immense richness and cosmic significance of the Christmas story. They also go much deeper into the darkness and mystery than most Christmas carols.
In that same service, as I listened to my pastor preach on Galatians 4:1-7, specifically about how Christ is born under the law, more connections to this carol were made clear.
"What I am saying is that as long as an heir is underage, he is no different from a slave, although he owns the whole estate. 2 The heir is subject to guardians and trustees until the time set by his father. 3 So also, when we were underage, we were in slavery under the elemental spiritual forces of the world. 4 But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. 6 Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.” 7 So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir."
--Galatians 4:1-7
On the surface, it may be hard to hear "In the Bleak Midwinter" through all of Paul's references to slavery and the law and our adoption as children and co-heirs with Christ. There is a woman and child, yes. But, there is no manger scene. There are no angels. There is no "snow on snow on snow."
But let's go line by line and verse by verse and see the comparisons! (Note: There are differences between the original poem by Christina Rossetti and those published in various hymnals. I will be using the original poem below)
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.
I can think of no more powerful image of "all creation groaning" (Romans 8:22), or frosty wind made moaning, than these first lines. This is an eternal winter, an eternal bondage to sin. The "elemental spiritual forces of the world" are hard as iron, a permafrost of original sin than no man can break through. It is not a quaint winter landscape, it is perilous, treacherous, deadly ... bleak ...
I have heard well-intentioned pastors push back on these lyrics because it is not Biblically accurate to have snow present at the Nativity. Of course there was no snow in Bethlehem, but that is not the point of the text. It is not a meteorological image but a metaphorical one. Snow is a metaphor for the generations and generations of those living under the law. Layer upon layer of human sin and suffering covered by the "snow" of God's grace through the law before Christ. Snow is the blood and ash of thousands of sacrificial rams covering our sin. Those sacrifices were a temporary blanket of grace, "snow on snow," but are not sufficient to end the eternal winter of sin. The promise of an end to winter through a sacrificial lamb that is truly God and truly human, the Incarnate Christ, our Emmanuel, comes in the next verse:
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 Almighty, Jesus Christ.
In the bleak midwinter, in the fullness of time, God sent his Son. This is the first ray of sunshine that will melt away the darkness in the coming thaw. God's grace towards His people is bursting at the seams and cannot be contained to heaven, but it also appears in the humble and barren wasteland of a broken humanity that cannot sustain it. From that humble stable will grow an everlasting kingdom. That kingdom is of both worlds: it is heaven and earth becoming one again, united first in the incarnation at the fullness of time and eventually in the second coming at the end of time. The broken relationship between estate owner (God) and heir (humanity) is repaired through the birth and death of Christ. Some versions of the lyrics replace the word "Almighty" with "Incarnate" to better reflect the unprecedented miracle of the divine being born in a lowly stable.
Enough for him, whom cherubim worship night and day,
Breastful of milk and a mangerful of hay:
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.
This verse is often left out in hymnals and perhaps to some people the intimacy of Mary breastfeeding her son, our Lord, is uncomfortable. But, it is both biologically and theologically sound to sing about Mary's pregnancy, labor, and breastfeeding. The Gospels record these things for a reason because they demonstrate our shared humanity with Christ. One of the curses given to Eve for humanity's original sin was the pain of childbearing. And like Eve, all mothers endure this pain. Mary endured this pain as well. In fact, "we know that the whole creation has been groaning (or frosty wind made moaning) as in the pains of childbirth" (Romans 8:22) That unbroken curse has been passed down to us in our mother's milk. We are born and raised in sin. To know that Christ also partook of that "old" milk, yet remains sinless, is a very powerful image. And that because of the Incarnation we will be nourished by this "new" milk, the "firstfruits of the Spirit" (God as our Mother). In this very intimate way, we recognize that as children of God we are fully dependent on God's grace in the same way that Christ was fully dependent on his mother's milk. The final line of this verse shows that all creation (the ox and ass and camel) are "subjected to frustration" but will also be redeemed. Therefore, all creation recognizes that this moment in the fullness of time is one for reverence and worship and add their voices to the ceaseless choirs of cherubim and seraphim (Revelations 5:13).
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
While all heaven and earth rejoice, the lyrics continue with this strikingly intimate moment of mother and child. When reading the genealogies of Jesus at the beginning of Matthew or Luke, or Paul's description of fathers and sons, we might adopt a patriarchal attitude. But Paul says, "born of a woman" and that is a crucial, and revolutionary, statement. The Gospel of Matthew goes as far to include several important (and quite scandalous!) matriarchs in Christ's genealogy (Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, Mary). And although the Gospel of Luke's genealogy is men only, it is prefaced by several important scenes centered on women: the Annunciation, Mary visiting Elizabeth, the Magnificat (Song of Mary), the Birth of John the Baptist, and the Song of Zechariah. When Mary "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart" (Luke 2:19) she knows, perhaps more deeply than anyone at that moment, how important this child will be. The angel Gabriel has told her, her husband Joseph and his own angelic revelation have told her, her relatives Elizabeth and Zechariah have told her, the shepherds who heard the angels have told her. That kiss is a reminder of her song, the Magnificat, in which she proclaims that "His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation." The generational systems of violence and oppression will come to an end because of this child, born of a woman. She knows her history as a child of Abraham, a child of Adam, a child of God, but she also knows her future as the mother of God, and that her son is beyond precious. She is overwhelmed by these promises and "worships 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.
This is where the song finally comes full circle. How should we, in the bleak midwinter of our own sinful, humble, and poor lives, worship the incarnate Christ? Paul writes that because God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under law, that we are redeemed and adopted as heirs. The only response anyone can have to that immeasurable grace is to give their whole self (their heart, where God has sent the Spirit of his Son). The parallel here is Micah 6:8 "And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Our response to becoming heirs of God's promises is our full and humble participation in vineyards of God's kingdom. It is not the offerings of calves, rams, and rivers of oil (Micah 6:6-7) that are pleasing to God. Those are the sacrifices made by the generations before us born under the law, "the snow on snow on snow," that Christ's birth, ministry, death and resurrection have come to radically redefine. We are a part of the new covenant, where we offer ourselves as a "living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God--this is your true and proper worship." (Romans 12:1)
Of the many beautiful Christmas carols and songs of the season, this one always cuts deepest to the vulnerable places in our hearts. We still see the bleak midwinter all around us. We still see the "snow on snow on snow." But we also recognize the hope that has been given to us through God's Son.
And in singing this song, let us be reminded of that promise.
Let heaven and nature sing! O come let us adore him!
The melody and harmony are of course beautiful (I prefer the Gustav Holst setting from 1906 but the Harold Darke version from 1909 is also lovely!) But the music, beautiful as it is, exposes something powerful about these words. Words that cut deeply into our human experience. These lyrics are vulnerable and intimate. They express the immense richness and cosmic significance of the Christmas story. They also go much deeper into the darkness and mystery than most Christmas carols.
In that same service, as I listened to my pastor preach on Galatians 4:1-7, specifically about how Christ is born under the law, more connections to this carol were made clear.
"What I am saying is that as long as an heir is underage, he is no different from a slave, although he owns the whole estate. 2 The heir is subject to guardians and trustees until the time set by his father. 3 So also, when we were underage, we were in slavery under the elemental spiritual forces of the world. 4 But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. 6 Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.” 7 So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir."
--Galatians 4:1-7
On the surface, it may be hard to hear "In the Bleak Midwinter" through all of Paul's references to slavery and the law and our adoption as children and co-heirs with Christ. There is a woman and child, yes. But, there is no manger scene. There are no angels. There is no "snow on snow on snow."
But let's go line by line and verse by verse and see the comparisons! (Note: There are differences between the original poem by Christina Rossetti and those published in various hymnals. I will be using the original poem below)
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.
I can think of no more powerful image of "all creation groaning" (Romans 8:22), or frosty wind made moaning, than these first lines. This is an eternal winter, an eternal bondage to sin. The "elemental spiritual forces of the world" are hard as iron, a permafrost of original sin than no man can break through. It is not a quaint winter landscape, it is perilous, treacherous, deadly ... bleak ...
I have heard well-intentioned pastors push back on these lyrics because it is not Biblically accurate to have snow present at the Nativity. Of course there was no snow in Bethlehem, but that is not the point of the text. It is not a meteorological image but a metaphorical one. Snow is a metaphor for the generations and generations of those living under the law. Layer upon layer of human sin and suffering covered by the "snow" of God's grace through the law before Christ. Snow is the blood and ash of thousands of sacrificial rams covering our sin. Those sacrifices were a temporary blanket of grace, "snow on snow," but are not sufficient to end the eternal winter of sin. The promise of an end to winter through a sacrificial lamb that is truly God and truly human, the Incarnate Christ, our Emmanuel, comes in the next verse:
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 Almighty, Jesus Christ.
In the bleak midwinter, in the fullness of time, God sent his Son. This is the first ray of sunshine that will melt away the darkness in the coming thaw. God's grace towards His people is bursting at the seams and cannot be contained to heaven, but it also appears in the humble and barren wasteland of a broken humanity that cannot sustain it. From that humble stable will grow an everlasting kingdom. That kingdom is of both worlds: it is heaven and earth becoming one again, united first in the incarnation at the fullness of time and eventually in the second coming at the end of time. The broken relationship between estate owner (God) and heir (humanity) is repaired through the birth and death of Christ. Some versions of the lyrics replace the word "Almighty" with "Incarnate" to better reflect the unprecedented miracle of the divine being born in a lowly stable.
Enough for him, whom cherubim worship night and day,
Breastful of milk and a mangerful of hay:
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.
This verse is often left out in hymnals and perhaps to some people the intimacy of Mary breastfeeding her son, our Lord, is uncomfortable. But, it is both biologically and theologically sound to sing about Mary's pregnancy, labor, and breastfeeding. The Gospels record these things for a reason because they demonstrate our shared humanity with Christ. One of the curses given to Eve for humanity's original sin was the pain of childbearing. And like Eve, all mothers endure this pain. Mary endured this pain as well. In fact, "we know that the whole creation has been groaning (or frosty wind made moaning) as in the pains of childbirth" (Romans 8:22) That unbroken curse has been passed down to us in our mother's milk. We are born and raised in sin. To know that Christ also partook of that "old" milk, yet remains sinless, is a very powerful image. And that because of the Incarnation we will be nourished by this "new" milk, the "firstfruits of the Spirit" (God as our Mother). In this very intimate way, we recognize that as children of God we are fully dependent on God's grace in the same way that Christ was fully dependent on his mother's milk. The final line of this verse shows that all creation (the ox and ass and camel) are "subjected to frustration" but will also be redeemed. Therefore, all creation recognizes that this moment in the fullness of time is one for reverence and worship and add their voices to the ceaseless choirs of cherubim and seraphim (Revelations 5:13).
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
While all heaven and earth rejoice, the lyrics continue with this strikingly intimate moment of mother and child. When reading the genealogies of Jesus at the beginning of Matthew or Luke, or Paul's description of fathers and sons, we might adopt a patriarchal attitude. But Paul says, "born of a woman" and that is a crucial, and revolutionary, statement. The Gospel of Matthew goes as far to include several important (and quite scandalous!) matriarchs in Christ's genealogy (Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, Mary). And although the Gospel of Luke's genealogy is men only, it is prefaced by several important scenes centered on women: the Annunciation, Mary visiting Elizabeth, the Magnificat (Song of Mary), the Birth of John the Baptist, and the Song of Zechariah. When Mary "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart" (Luke 2:19) she knows, perhaps more deeply than anyone at that moment, how important this child will be. The angel Gabriel has told her, her husband Joseph and his own angelic revelation have told her, her relatives Elizabeth and Zechariah have told her, the shepherds who heard the angels have told her. That kiss is a reminder of her song, the Magnificat, in which she proclaims that "His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation." The generational systems of violence and oppression will come to an end because of this child, born of a woman. She knows her history as a child of Abraham, a child of Adam, a child of God, but she also knows her future as the mother of God, and that her son is beyond precious. She is overwhelmed by these promises and "worships 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.
This is where the song finally comes full circle. How should we, in the bleak midwinter of our own sinful, humble, and poor lives, worship the incarnate Christ? Paul writes that because God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under law, that we are redeemed and adopted as heirs. The only response anyone can have to that immeasurable grace is to give their whole self (their heart, where God has sent the Spirit of his Son). The parallel here is Micah 6:8 "And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Our response to becoming heirs of God's promises is our full and humble participation in vineyards of God's kingdom. It is not the offerings of calves, rams, and rivers of oil (Micah 6:6-7) that are pleasing to God. Those are the sacrifices made by the generations before us born under the law, "the snow on snow on snow," that Christ's birth, ministry, death and resurrection have come to radically redefine. We are a part of the new covenant, where we offer ourselves as a "living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God--this is your true and proper worship." (Romans 12:1)
Of the many beautiful Christmas carols and songs of the season, this one always cuts deepest to the vulnerable places in our hearts. We still see the bleak midwinter all around us. We still see the "snow on snow on snow." But we also recognize the hope that has been given to us through God's Son.
And in singing this song, let us be reminded of that promise.
Let heaven and nature sing! O come let us adore him!
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