Week 1 of My Super Deep Christmas/2020 Reflections
On finding light amid dark circumstances
Most people know I’m a little obsessed with pumpkin spice. Just check out this apron I wore for Thanksgiving:
However, my absolute favorite time of the year is Christmas. Years ago, my family asked why Christmas got me so amped, and I had to think. Several images flashed in my mind from childhood — a few White Christmases I’d had, the lights, cheer, toys, tradition, and family. But there were also images of really hard Christmases as well. Ones where I had a Charlie Brown tree stuffed with Pringles and PowerBars underneath drooping branches while fighting a war. As tough as those memories are, they now have a soft glow to them and I remember them with fondness. Songs like “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” always makes me choke up too, because I recall sitting in a room with a bunch of soldiers on Christmas Eve, silent, and letting the words wash over me while grasping reality. We would not be home for Christmas.
In the Christmas story, we often view hard events with a soft, fuzzy glow to them too. Regardless of what you believe about Christmas, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, there are important historical lessons we can learn from the narrative, especially in light of 2020.
In early antiquity and in Jewish culture, life expectancy was greatly reduced considering what it is today. The average age a woman got married was between 13–15 years old, and many women died in childbirth. Most historians agree that Mary was probably a thirteen-year-old teenager when she became betrothed to Joseph.
Now consider world events at the time. Rome had conquered Israel and was an occupying force that taxed the citizens at a rate of about 90% of their income. Rome also put down insurrections down by mass crucifixion. There are historical reports of men, women, and children crucified along roads leading into towns as warning not to rebel or mess with Rome.
Now that I’ve set the backdrop, think about being a young, scared, pregnant teenager in a violent world, forced to travel a long distance for a census. Why a census? In order to tax your people, you have to know how many there are. So their trip is nothing more than ensuring the majority of their earnings end up with an occupying force. Then—once Mary and Joseph arrive in his hometown—there’s no room at the inn and they’re forced to stay in a stable.
I’ve long wondered why no one would be willing to give up their room for a pregnant woman. Or why didn’t Joseph stay with relatives? The reason is they were societally poor outcasts. Mary was pregnant out of wedlock and that scenario in Jewish culture was an extreme cultural faux pas, punishable by death. So Mary is forced to give birth in a stable and wraps little baby Jesus in rags and lays him in — no joke — an animal feeding trough. That’s literally what a manger is (google it).
Looking at the nativity scene from this lens is somewhat depressing, isn’t it? Yet when we see the lights adorned around the cattle, Joseph, Mary, Jesus and the Three Wise Men (who don’t show up for anywhere between 40 days and two years later FYI), there’s this ambient, soothing glow to it all. What should be an image of struggle is now one of glad tidings, peace, and a reminder to love our fellow man during this season. Just like those old memories of Christmas at war, there’s now a redeeming value to the struggle, and that makes me appreciate this season all the more.
Here in the last month of 2020, there can be a redeeming value even in this crazy pandemic Christmas if you’ll look for it. Whether that’s a family member or friend walking with you through this tough season, someone inviting you to their family Christmas, or a group of soldiers singing carols while away from their families… Christmas reminds us there’s always a glimmer of hope in the dark.
Until next time,
Honor. Virtue. Perseverance.
— Benjamin Sledge
