Transforming the Bleak Midwinter
I will long be grateful to the English poet Christina Rossetti for having coined the phrase “bleak midwinter.” I marvel at how a few precisely chosen words can be so evocative. The term “bleak” deftly captures the sense of ennui and weariness that can steal upon us in these months when the time of daylight steadily diminishes and the colder temperatures numb not only the body but sometimes the spirit, as well. And the use of “mid” to modify “winter” tells us very clearly that this state of affairs is likely going to continue for some time. And for all of my verbose exposition in the prior few sentences, my own articulation is but a shadow of what that simple phrase “the bleak midwinter” conjures up when we hear it.
There is something incredibly rich about celebrating the marvel of Christmas right in the midst of this “bleak midwinter,” as we do in the northern hemisphere (which, in case you were not aware, is where both Minnesota and Rossetti’s native England are to be found!). In fact, Rossetti’s poem which contains the phrase in question was originally titled “A Christmas Carol,” and it is a reflection on Jesus’ birth taking place “in the bleak midwinter.” Admittedly, weather conditions in the Holy Land might not get quite as dark and cold as they do in England, let alone Minnesota! Still, I find that Rossetti’s phrase captures something that goes beyond meteorological phenomena.
In fact, the wonder of the Incarnation does occur “in the bleak midwinter” of a human story that has been fractured by sin, broken by distrust, wounded by violence, damaged by pain, and ruptured by so many aches that afflict us. Rather than turn his back on what creation has become, however, God opts to become even more intimately involved with it. He refused to countenance the perdurance on this “bleak midwinter” in which we find ourselves. He enters into it, and through his solidarity with us in Christ, he transforms it. He pushes back the darkness and the cold, radiating both light and heat to humanity in the form of the newborn child of Mary.
Even the calendar (again, in the northern hemisphere!) speaks to us of this transformation. As we move past the winter solstice, with its close proximity to December 25th, we start to receive more light with each successive day. The calendar manifests to us a profound theological and cosmological truth: the birth of the Christ child renews the whole of nature itself, as God steps into the world and reclaims (so to speak) his glorious project of creation from the “bleak midwinter” which envelops it.
And so, too, does he offer each of us that same renewal. We all have moments in which we experience the “bleak midwinter,” moments in which we may feel worn down, fatigued, perhaps even a bit beaten up by life. Those are challenging moments, but they are also opportunities—times in which we can turn to the babe of Bethlehem and allow his light to push back the darkness, his warmth to dispel the chill. As we celebrate the Lord’s coming into history two millennia ago, may we also allow him to come anew into our own personal story, moving us out of the “bleak winter” and into the glory of his embrace.
