When I was young, I had several Christmas carols that I really enjoyed. Silent Night was the carol that I liked most to sing. It was simple and I could remember the words - at least for the first verse. My favor carol sung by someone else (besides Bing's White Christmas) was Andy Williams singing Do You Hear What I Hear?.
I thought, until recently, that this carol was older than it is. Recently, I discovered, while reading a Christmas homily that the carol had actually been written in October of 1962. That date might not register as significant for many gathered here. Yet, for those of you who were alive and old enough to remember, it was a time of great uncertainty that was later labeled the Cuban Missile Crisis.
A tension equal to post 9/11 hung in the air. No one knew if or when a nuclear missile would be launched leading to a nuclear holocaust. It was during this time when fear was palpable that Noel Regney was inspired to write the carol Do You Hear What I Hear?.
Its final verse concludes with a plea for peace, a plea that resonated so strongly with people that within a week of the carol's release, the song had sold a quarter-million copies.
That plea continues to be most meaningful today as parents, spouses, children learn that their loved one is being called to active duty. Its meaningfulness is lived out in the tension and fear that people experience when they wonder if killing will be deemed the only solution to differences.
James Patrick Kinney wrote a poem some years back entitled: The Cold Within.
Six humans trapped by happenstance
In bleak and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
Or so the story's told.
Their dying fire in need of logs,
The first man held his back
For of the faces round the fire
He noticed one was black.
The next man looking 'cross the way
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes;
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store,
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight.
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.
The last man of this forlorn group
Did naught, except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave to him
Was how he played the game.
Their logs held tight in death's still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without.
They died from the cold within.
The birth of Jesus tells us a great deal about God. It tells us that
though very different from us, God chooses to share with us and to become
one with us. Experiencing this love leads us to some basic truths. It
is important to join our hands and hearts against the cold of human hatred
and the darkness of resentment and revenge. Only in this way can we be
free to share who we really are. That real self is expressed in compassion,
understanding, forgiveness, respect and faith. Our sharing of these gifts
builds a bonfire of God's love against the cold and dark bitterness that
so often threatens our world, our hearts and our families.
Often we don't even know that such gifts are a part of who we are. Yet,
the desire for peace can guide us as surely as the star guided all who
sought Jesus.
Today we recall the birth of the Prince of Peace. May we seek to follow
the desire for peace that lives in our hearts and allow the fire of God's
love to transform the coldness that keeps us divided into the warmth of
life together where everyone belongs.
(I am indebted to John LaPointe for his insights and the poem, The Cold
Within.)
