Scenes such as this one make me feel a bit nostalgic, for they are commonplace in Minnesota, where I grew up. Whereas winter in London means a bracing wind, soaking rain, and radiator heat at set times in the day.
I don’t miss the freezing temperatures, but I fancy the thought of a walk in the snow, boots sinking down with each step, feeling warm under the layers from the exertion of the amble.
Do you love the snow?
We’ve reached the end of the Christmas season, the twelfth day of Christmas! Tomorrow is Epiphany, when we mark the arrival of the wise men bringing their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the newborn King.
I’ve been reading about the Twelfth Night parties in England in years past, finding the practices fascinating. Often servants and their masters would change places for the evening, with the master serving the servant. A dried bean or pea would be baked into a spice fruitcake, and whoever found it in their portion would be crowned king or queen of the party. Some of the revelry would include games with eggs – the egg and spoon race, and one that I’d like to try, a “toss the egg” game where a raw egg is thrown between two people at ever increasing lengths between them.
Spiritually, we can consider what gifts we’d like to give to Jesus this year. Perhaps a new emphasis on hospitality, or intercession, or keeping our temper, or increasing our tithing.
Will you celebrate Twelfth Night? If yes, how? What about an Epiphany party? And what gifts would you like to seek to give this year?
Today, on the ninth day of Christmas, it feels countercultural to celebrate the season. Part of me would like to take down the Christmas decorations while cleaning and doing some decluttering. The newness of the year feels like a push toward embracing all things clean and fresh.
So sometimes it feels like a discipline to celebrate and feast. I’m keenly aware of those who are grieving or going through other difficulties, who need God’s grace to get through this season, and are probably finding it hard to celebrate. They may be echoing Psalm 137:4: “How can we sing the songs of the Lord while in a foreign land?” If that’s you, I pray you’ll find a hint of celebration through rest and recovery.
For me, as we only have twelve days of Christmas, I’m going to seek to embrace the gift that they are – while doing a bit of decluttering and vacuuming by the Christmas tree.
How are you approaching celebrating on this ninth day?
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
Can you remember? Six maids a milking? Geese a laying? An online search says I got it right with the second guess.
My memory for that popular song is murky, just as this point in the Christmas season can feel murky. Many people have taken down their Christmas trees and decorations, ready to move into 2019 with a new purpose. It feels countercultural to keep banging on about the days of Christmas, especially in this messy middle (see the wonderful blog by Amy Young by this name), when the wonder of the first days of Christmas seem long past and the end feels a long way off.
How can you make the sixth day of Christmas feel special?
The paradox of feasting while calling to mind the martyrs of days past continues as we celebrate the life of Thomas Becket on the fifth day of Christmas. He was named Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162 by King Henry II, to whom he was a chief minister. Henry hoped that by appointing Thomas as archbishop he would gain control of the church, but Thomas was as zealous for the church as he had been for the state. The king became increasingly incensed over his exclusion from church affairs, so only two years after his appointment, Thomas escaped to France for safety.
Thomas returned to England in 1170, and shortly after, the row intensified even more, with King Henry saying,
“Who will rid me of this troublesome priest?”
With that utterance, four of his knights decided that they’d heard an order to kill Thomas. They did so as Thomas was taking the service of vespers at Canterbury Cathedral.
Thomas was said to be unafraid in the face of death, echoing Jesus’ words to his disciples from Matthew’s gospel:
Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:28–31).
Here Jesus instructs the twelve as he sends them out to preach the kingdom of God, heal diseases, and drive out demons. We may lose our bodies in this world, he says, but we need to guard against the one who can kill the body and the soul.
Today, let’s join together to pray for those around the world who endure false accusations or bodily harm because of their faith. Lord, have mercy.
The Christmas season is for celebrating, but it doesn’t shy away from the horrors of this world, such as the slaughter of “holy innocents.” The day marks the killing of all the boys in Bethlehem under two by Herod, a jealous and volatile king:
…an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. ‘Get up,’ he said, ‘take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him’… When Herod realised that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under (Matthew 2:13; 16a).
This massacre of around thirty boys (for Bethlehem was a small village) wasn’t outside of Herod’s character, for Herod also had his wife and her mother killed, as well as three of his sons. And when he was dying, he ordered that all the notable men of Jerusalem be killed in the hippodrome.
Herod may have been a powerful king, but his plans to eliminate Jesus were foiled. For Joseph again was warned in a dream, and he obeyed the angel’s direction, trekking into safe territory in Egypt.
But why did those sweet little boys have to die? Why all those mothers weeping for their slain children? We just don’t know, for it is wrapped up in the fall of humanity and the problem of evil. But we can stand on God’s promises that he will comfort the comfortless and bring hope to the hopeless. And we know that he too grieves at the loss of children so young.
Heavenly Father, we don’t understand why you sometimes allow innocent people to die. Strengthen our faith and help us to know more about your character, and comfort all those who mourn today.
This morning, one of the participants in the Woman Alive book club Facebook group posted this comment:
“If people want to mark the 12 days of Christmas how do they keep the spirit alive when other people think it’s over? I’m back to work this morning and I’ve already seen one post of Facebook about getting the decorations down!”
Celebrating the full twelve days of Christmas is something I’ve become more keen about doing in recent years. I confess I don’t observe the season of Advent properly – for I put up the Christmas tree far earlier than I should (my excuse is that putting up the tree and decorations takes a long time). But I do love celebrating the twelve days, marking the full season and not “getting back to normal” as seems to be the tradition these days shortly after Christmas day.
One simple thing we do for the twelve days of Christmas in our family is eating our dinner in the dining room, table laden with candles, including the Advent wreath fully ablaze. We can see the Christmas tree in the living room as we eat, and it feels festive and fun.
Another idea is to pray along with the #FollowtheStar prayers produced by the Church of England, which you can find here.
Do you mark the twelve days of Christmas? Why or why not?
Happy second day of Christmas!
I love this painting by my dad, for it evokes Christmases in the family home growing up in Minnesota, where my parents still live, and where they celebrated on Christmas Eve with all the family (except us).
That “except us” is the poignant bit, isn’t it. Christmas is a wonderful holiday for family celebrations, but often not everyone is gathered around the tree, for whatever reason. Maybe they’ve moved far away, like I did, or a rift between siblings turned into a war that now fractures the family, or someone has to work in healthcare or in the church, or maybe they have died, and we miss them achingly… Christmas will never be picture perfect, because life this side of heaven isn’t picture perfect.
But we can have glimpses of wonder and joy, those moments of unity and fun that drop deeply into our memories and make us long for unbroken moments of sweet communion. May you experience more than a handful of these today and during this Christmas season.
We’re in the third week of Advent, but soon and very soon we’ll have the fourth week and then boom, in quick succession, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The twelve days of Christmas will commence. And many of us will go to church to celebrate. I love this picture of a sweet little church framed by trees and cushioned by snow, painted by my father. It’s an idyllic picture of what we imagine church should be like – all soft edges, coziness, and safety.
But, of course, life doesn’t always follow art. Church can be an experience of disappointment, weariness, hurt, anger, criticism, and pain. If you’re human and you’ve gone to church for a length of time, I’m guessing you can relate to that list of feelings and experiences, and add your own.
But church can be joy and communion; peace and fellowship; wonder and relating. Jesus came to earth as a baby to usher in a new kingdom, where we are filled with his presence and can find union not only with him but others – and we can find this in church, of all places.
As we wait for his coming again, may we glimpse what church can be here on earth. Even if for a slender moment.
Father God, you sent your Son to earth as a baby, that he might live as one of us. How you must ache for the pain you see your children wrapped in. Thank you that you want to relieve us from this heartache. Help us to turn to you for comfort and help. And please bring unity and peace to our places of worship, bringing healing and release where there has been hurt and betrayal. May we sense your calming presence in our lives this day. Amen.
Last week while I was speaking in Somerset, I heard time and time again how much those I was talking with loved their home county. They might like visiting London, but they exhaled when they got home to the green open spaces with its hedgerows, hills, and atmospheric clouds.
I can understand that, for I love breathing in the clean(er) country air, slowing down, and taking in the surroundings. But I love the city too, and if I had to choose, would go for the hustle and bustle of, say, multicultural London over the quiet of the countryside. (Especially as I can more easily travel on public transport versus those scary single-lane country roads with drivers bearing down on us less confident types!)
What about you? City or country or somewhere in between? Why? Where do you feel most at home?
Art by Leo Boucher, my father. Not a watercolor, I know – I’m guessing acrylics on canvas. To purchase prints of some of his work, click here, or email me if you are interested in a piece not listed there.