“Merry” doesn’t apply to today’s Christmas — happy carols are special. Or so it is for many of us. “Bring joy to the world”? “O you faithful ones, come! of joy and victory”? “Silent Night” – How about “Silence”?Edited night”?
Traditional worship, at least through the sacrament of Holy Communion on Christmas Eve, recalls the cross of Christ and the sacrifice that reveals true joy and the promise of salvation.
Horror is a conspiracy against Christmas, a mockery of “fun,” a fear hidden in sentimentality and its cousin, cynicism. Often the people who have the most to fear are the ones who share the greatest joy. As Muddy Waters knew, the secret of the blues is joy. “The High Priestess of Soul” Nina Simone and “Mississippi Goddam”Feels good”
Fortunately, Christmas brings back the sentimentality of carols and outweighs the formality. It commemorates the birth of the Savior, the “man of sorrows and sorrows,” who cried out, “My God, my God! Why have you forsaken me?” Later it was said of him, “For the joy that was before him he endured the cross, and despised its shame.”
Christmas calls for modest joy accompanied by sadness. A few years ago, I came across a heart-wrenching and insightful Reddit response that offered a unique perspective on grief. Someone was looking for advice on this topic and this response struck a chord. The original post was: “My friend just passed away. I don’t know what to do.” This reaction can speak to the loss of any aspect of life that is meaningful to us, including elections, ideals, friendships, and hope, and is accompanied by fear and loss.
“Okay, this is fine. I’m old. I’ve managed to survive (so far), but many people I’ve known and loved haven’t. I’ve lost friends, confidants, acquaintances , I have experienced the loss of colleagues, grandparents, mothers, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and many other people. I can’t imagine how painful that is. But here’s my 2 cents.
“I’d like to say I’m used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. Every time someone I love dies, regardless of the circumstances, it leaves a hole in me. But I… doesn’t want it to be “unimportant”. I don’t want it to just be something that passes. My scars are a testament to the love and relationship I had with and for that person. And the deeper the hurt, the deeper the love. That’s fine.
“Scars are proof of life. Scars are proof that I love deeply, live deeply, can be cut and gouged, and can heal and continue to live and love. And scar tissue. is stronger than scars.” Scars are only ugly to those who can’t see them.
“When it comes to grief, you see it come in waves. When the ship first gets wrecked, all the wreckage piles up around you and you almost drown. You find a piece of wreckage that reminds you of the beauty and splendor of the ship that once was, and maybe it’s a person, but all you can do is stay afloat for a while.
“At first, the waves are 100 feet high and pounding relentlessly. They’re 10 seconds apart and you don’t have time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks. Maybe months, the waves are still 100 feet high, but the waves are moving further apart, and the waves are still hitting you. But in the meantime, you can breathe and you can function. You don’t know what’s going to happen, the song, the photo, the intersection. , maybe the smell of a cup of coffee…and the waves crashing. But between the waves there is life.
“At some point, and it’s different for everyone, you’ll find that the waves are only 80 feet high. Or even 50 feet high. And the waves are still coming, but they’re moving further apart. You know the wave is coming. An anniversary, or a birthday, or landing at O’Hare, and most of the time, when it hits you, you somehow come out soaking wet again. I know it will be. , sputtering, I end up with small pieces of debris that are still hanging around, but they always come out.
“Listen to the old man: The waves never stop, and for some reason you don’t really want them to come. But you learn that you can ride out that wave, and the others… And you, too, will survive them.” If you’re lucky, you’ll be left with the scars of lots of love and lots of shipwrecks. ”
This is true, as poet Jane Hirshfield writes:
“There are only a few grains of happiness.
Measured against all darkness,
Still, the scales are balanced. ”
Christmas reminds us that joy does not erase sadness. That redeems it.
[*] – This first appeared on reddit Posted on 3.29.17 by username GSnow and cited in a previous post.
“A man of sorrow…” “God, God…” “For joy…” – Isaiah 53:3. Psalm 22:1 = Matthew 27:46; Hebrews 12:2 – see David Bentley Hart translation.
observed sadness – C.S. Lewis (1961, 2009). Lewis’s account of his grief after the death of his wife, Joy Davidman, includes questions about faith, the nature of suffering, and meaning in the midst of overwhelming pain.
year of magical thinking – Joan Didion (2007). Thoughts after the sudden death of my husband, John Gregory Dunn.
jane hirshfield – From “Weighing” october palace (1994).
Tip #165 – It’s already Christmas
Source: 2 + 2 = 5 – williamgreen.substack.com
