Advent Week 3: Sorrow
If someone put Charles Dickens and Christmas together in the same sentence, most of us would assume that they're talking about A Christmas Carol, one of the most iconic of Christmas stories. But Sinclair Ferguson in his book Child in the Manger suggests that Dickens wrote another piece that better represents Christmas: the first line of A Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."*
Normally, advent reflections are about joy, or wonder, or faith, or hope. But today I am going to talk about sorrow. Today I will talk about how Christmas is sometimes the worst of times.
I've heard people say that the ER is busiest on Christmas. That suicide attempts are the most frequent at the holidays. Up here in the Northern hemisphere, the lack of sunlight wreaks havoc on emotions. But, on a deeper level, the holidays have a very good flair for making people feel lonely. When you are surrounded by family, sometimes the people who are missing stand out the most. And when you are not surrounded by family when it seems like everyone else is, it can feel even worse.
Sometimes, excitedly anticipating something can make it feel that much more exciting when it finally happens. But there are two opposites to this statement, and both are also true. Sometimes, dreading something makes it feel worse when it finally happens. And, sometimes, excitedly anticipating something can make it feel like it falls flat and dull when it finally happens. Christmas, in my experience, has a way of making all of these feelings come out.
A baby in a manger was not what the people of Israel were expecting from the prophecies about the Messiah. To the shepherds in the fields who were visited by a company of angels, it was maybe more exciting than what they thought. But to those who were expecting a conquering king to rid their land of the Roman occupation, it was not so exciting.
It was definitely not what King Herod was expecting. When the Wise Men from the East stopped by to ask where the King of the Jews would be born, Herod asked the experts to let him know what the prophecies said, and he told the Wise Men to come back and tell him about the baby so he could worship this new king, too.
But when he said 'worship' what he really meant was 'eliminate the competition.'
So when the Wise Men heeded the warning they received in a dream not to go back and tell Herod where the baby was, Herod slaughtered all of the baby boys in the area. (Read the full story in Matthew 2.) And so the prophecy in Jeremiah 31:15 was fulfilled:**
“A voice is heard in Ramah,
mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”
Ramah is another name for Bethlehem (Genesis 48:7), and it is the place where the Biblical matriarch, Rachel, died giving birth to her son Benjamin (whose brother you may have heard of---Joseph of the techni-coloured dreamcoat).
And so, even at the first Christmas, the one with the angels singing and a bright shining star in the sky, evil had a foothold, and there was great sorrow as a result.
So today I want to leave you with two thoughts:
First, it's okay to be sad, at Christmas or at any other time. When everyone is belting out the words to "Joy to the World," remember that doesn't mean pure joy, all the time.
Second, you are not alone. You are not the only one who feels this way. And, also, if you need someone to talk to, I am here.
Note: this is part three of a series on Advent. You can also read parts one and two.
*I didn't actually read this book. I borrowed this illustration from one of my pastors, Jeff, because it just fit so perfectly.
**If God knew this was going to happen, why didn't he prevent it? This fits into the larger question of the Problem of Evil, which I addressed in a blog post a couple of months ago here.
Normally, advent reflections are about joy, or wonder, or faith, or hope. But today I am going to talk about sorrow. Today I will talk about how Christmas is sometimes the worst of times.
I've heard people say that the ER is busiest on Christmas. That suicide attempts are the most frequent at the holidays. Up here in the Northern hemisphere, the lack of sunlight wreaks havoc on emotions. But, on a deeper level, the holidays have a very good flair for making people feel lonely. When you are surrounded by family, sometimes the people who are missing stand out the most. And when you are not surrounded by family when it seems like everyone else is, it can feel even worse.
Sometimes, excitedly anticipating something can make it feel that much more exciting when it finally happens. But there are two opposites to this statement, and both are also true. Sometimes, dreading something makes it feel worse when it finally happens. And, sometimes, excitedly anticipating something can make it feel like it falls flat and dull when it finally happens. Christmas, in my experience, has a way of making all of these feelings come out.
A baby in a manger was not what the people of Israel were expecting from the prophecies about the Messiah. To the shepherds in the fields who were visited by a company of angels, it was maybe more exciting than what they thought. But to those who were expecting a conquering king to rid their land of the Roman occupation, it was not so exciting.
It was definitely not what King Herod was expecting. When the Wise Men from the East stopped by to ask where the King of the Jews would be born, Herod asked the experts to let him know what the prophecies said, and he told the Wise Men to come back and tell him about the baby so he could worship this new king, too.
But when he said 'worship' what he really meant was 'eliminate the competition.'
So when the Wise Men heeded the warning they received in a dream not to go back and tell Herod where the baby was, Herod slaughtered all of the baby boys in the area. (Read the full story in Matthew 2.) And so the prophecy in Jeremiah 31:15 was fulfilled:**
“A voice is heard in Ramah,
mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”
Ramah is another name for Bethlehem (Genesis 48:7), and it is the place where the Biblical matriarch, Rachel, died giving birth to her son Benjamin (whose brother you may have heard of---Joseph of the techni-coloured dreamcoat).
And so, even at the first Christmas, the one with the angels singing and a bright shining star in the sky, evil had a foothold, and there was great sorrow as a result.
So today I want to leave you with two thoughts:
First, it's okay to be sad, at Christmas or at any other time. When everyone is belting out the words to "Joy to the World," remember that doesn't mean pure joy, all the time.
Second, you are not alone. You are not the only one who feels this way. And, also, if you need someone to talk to, I am here.
Note: this is part three of a series on Advent. You can also read parts one and two.
*I didn't actually read this book. I borrowed this illustration from one of my pastors, Jeff, because it just fit so perfectly.
**If God knew this was going to happen, why didn't he prevent it? This fits into the larger question of the Problem of Evil, which I addressed in a blog post a couple of months ago here.
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