‘In the Bleak Midwinter’
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Do you have iconic songs for seasons, or seasons of your life?
One of my favorite Christmas carols is the song quoted above, “In the Bleak Midwinter,” with lyrics by Christina Rossetti and music by Gustav Holst. I love the tune, I love the lyrics, and I love how it speaks to me in our chilly, icy Minnesota climate.
Christians have just completed the Christmas season (which concludes this next Sunday). Our Jewish friends have completed lighting the candles of Hannukah, remembering the miracle of the Second Temple, when, after their victory, the Maccabees witnessed a small amount of oil last for eight days.
Despite the Christmas lights that remain on so many homes, and the candles we continue to light as part of our spiritual observance, the landscape right now – gloomy with fog and rain and overcast skies – can be, indeed, “bleak” as the song reminds us. What can we do to lift our spirits as we wait for the return of the cold and sun in January?
One thing is to take a moment to let in the beauty of our gray and misty landscapes. Last week, as I went to work, I passed cloud-shrouded trees that were silhouettes against the prairie horizon. Amazing! The interplay of light and shadow was like a beautifully composed black-and-white photo. If you like journaling or creative writing, you can bring that experience to the written word.
We live in an incandescent, fluorescent, and LED world! A great antidote to the “bleak,” in my experience, is the dancing light of a few candles. I remember, as a kid, loving the times when the power went out, and we had an excuse to light candles all over the house. Try a candle meditation: use the flame as a focal point, and while sitting comfortably, let the glow of the candlelight become an affirmation of inner light and resilience.
Gray weather calls for warmth and comfort, making it an ideal time to create a ritual around food and drink. I’ve been making soups! Some folks turn to tea: peppermint for invigoration, chamomile for relaxation, or ginger for warmth. Or, if you’re me, Irish breakfast with sugar and milk, which is sort of a sipped comfort as I remember all the cups my grandmothers poured!
Probably the most valuable practice I can use on grey days is that of gratitude. It can be tempting to focus on what feels lacking – sunlight, warmth, or energy. I have a journal in which, at bedtime, I write three things I’m grateful for right before I turn out the light. That journal has pulled me through times that were heavy and dark, reminding me that although I face challenges, my life in so very many ways is utterly abundant.
While gray weather often invites solitude, it can also be an opportunity to connect with others in meaningful ways. Host a small gathering for tea, meditation, or creative expression, or reach out to a friend for a heartfelt conversation. Sharing spiritual practices or simply being present with others can uplift your spirits and reinforce a sense of belonging. Community reminds us that we are not alone, even on the gloomiest of days.
On a more abstract plain, the “bleak midwinter” symbolizes the times when we feel unworthy or far from God, much like the barren land the song describes. But these moments are not devoid of grace; they bring with them invitations to rely on God, who brings warmth and life even in the coldest seasons of our hearts.
Later in the song, Rosetti notes that, “Our God, heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain,” words that invite me to contemplate the magnitude of God’s presence, which transcends all creation, and of the infinite nature of divine love. Love that is vast beyond my limited, human comprehension.
As a Christian, I believe that this boundless God chose to enter the world as a vulnerable child, the holy day we just celebrated. This paradox – of infinite majesty dwelling within the finite – invites me to marvel at the mystery of the Incarnation and challenges me to recognize that God is not confined to grand, lofty places but is present in humble, everyday moments.
Even those of the “bleak midwinter.”
Editor’s note: This column was written by the Rev. Trish Sullivan Vanni, Ph.D., pastoral director and priest of the Charis Ecumenical Catholic Community in Eden Prairie.
Interested in contributing a faith-based column to EPLN? Email editor@eplocalnews.org.
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