With the weather forecast calling for more snow and near blizzard conditions for later in the day, a local weather forecaster says that only a collision with the sun will keep it from being a white Christmas in West Michigan this year.
So far, December has seemed more like January or early February around here. So am guessing that a lot of us have been recalling the heartwarming lyrics and sounds of what Irving Berlin called the best song he ever wrote.
The Guinness Book of World Records currently lists “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” as a 100-million seller. Bing Crosby’s film version was introduced in the 1942 musical Holiday Inn, and his single sold more than 50 million copies. The YouTube.com link has gotten almost 897,500 views.
Born in 1947, I didn’t know until the years of Vietnam the emotion of a generation-at-war that shared the longing for home and peace in the lyrics of…
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,
Just like the ones I used to know,
Where tree tops glisten,
And children listen,
To hear… sleigh bells in the snow…
(Here’s another YouTube link to another version of the song with the lyrics.)
But even as a post-war Baby Boomer generation I can still appreciate it as one of the most beautiful of all songs that celebrate the childhood memories of Christmas.
Which leads me to wonder, though, what Joseph and Mary would have thought if, before they died, they could have known how much comfort we would get from a romanticized celebration of “their event” that began with rumors of a scandal, followed by a painful journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem in Mary’s 9th month of pregnancy, where they could not find a hotel room, and Mary had to end up giving birth in an animal shelter.
Admittedly, heaven must have given the couple a good deal of grace to endure the process; and they must have shared tears of wonder at the thought that it was the birth of their mysteriously conceived son that drew worshiping shepherds from their flocks.
But it’s unlikely that the little town of Bethlehem, rich as it was with Jewish history, would have seemed like a wonderful place to give birth, without the support of extended family and friends.
Imagine too the emotion that Joseph and Mary must have felt knowing that, although they were able to get out of town in time to save the life of their baby, other young families did not avoid the Bethlehem massacre ordered by a paranoid king Herod.
Seems to me that our ability to romanticize Christmas reflects the wishful thinking we bring to every wonderful-difficult season of living out the miracle of life… in a broken, war-torn world.
Also seems like the real story of Christmas would leave us longing not just for just a cleaned up version of days past but, even more so, for the kind of future the Apostle Paul wrote about when he said, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us (Rom 8:18).
All of this because our Father did not romanticize about what it would take to give us the real gifts of Christmas. The real, if raw and edgy, story of Christmas is that, “What the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, on account of sin: He condemned sin in the flesh, that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit” (Romans 8:3-4).
Which also leads me to wonder whether, while reflecting on the best of good times past, we can find even more comfort and courage in the best that is yet to come…
I’m dreaming of a new Christmas,
Unlike the ones that we have known,
Where tree tops glisten,
And children listen,
To hear… songs without a groan.
(+19 rating, 19 votes)
Loading...