Snow is a unique
symbol.
On one hand, snow is
often a symbol of purity (such as the expression “Pure as the
driven snow,”) of innocence, of beauty and light.
On the other, snow
is also a symbol of death, of Earth falling under the spell of sleep.
Snow lies heavy on
the ground, burying the world like soil. It muffles sounds. Its
arrival signals the changes that drive life away. The leaves fall,
leaving the trees as though they were dead. Killing frosts droop the
flowers, browning once vibrant petals, yellowing the grass. Animal
life sleeps, or dies. Bears retreat to their dens, insects and
spiders and reptiles disappear, and frogs lie at the bottom of ponds,
their life signs stilling until they exist in a state of suspended
animation. Not even their hearts beat.
Like they were dead.
Like the temperate
Earth, our lives begin in season, we burst into bloom, then harvest,
and as an inevitable part of the cycle, we die.
There is immense
potency, then, in the image of a flower that blooms in the dark and
the snow.
“Lo, how a rose
e'er blooming
From tender stem hath sprung,
Of Jesse's lineage coming,
As men of old have sung.
From tender stem hath sprung,
Of Jesse's lineage coming,
As men of old have sung.
It came a flow'ret
bright
Amid the cold of winter
When half-spent was the night.
Isaiah 'twas foretold it,
This Rose that I have in mind.
Amid the cold of winter
When half-spent was the night.
Isaiah 'twas foretold it,
This Rose that I have in mind.
And with Mary we
behold it,
The Virgin Mother so sweet and so kind.
To show God's love aright,
She bore to men a Savior
When half-spent was the night.”
The Virgin Mother so sweet and so kind.
To show God's love aright,
She bore to men a Savior
When half-spent was the night.”
A flower that blooms
despite the falling snow represents faith in redemption, the ultimate
triumph of life over death.
It is a fitful faith, starting like a snorer in sleep.
It is a fitful faith, starting like a snorer in sleep.
Robert Graves
describes it this way:
“She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half words whispered low;
As earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow.”
For me, the religion
of Christmastime is found in this image of mid-winter stirring.
Like snow, we have
fallen. Our lives take form, condense as if the snow, trailing the
cloudy glory from which we were born. But then, we are dragged
downward to settle on the Earth, subject to winds of fate, part of
the great force that has rendered the Earth itself dead.
And yet, despite our
fallen state, Earth stirs. Hope remains in the soil, vital and alive
and potent, thrusting through when least expected or likely.
We have the promised
Savior, born as a rose blooming despite the cold cold winter and the
darkened night, and we have each of us: half asleep, weakly
whispering our love while our hope for redemption stirs like the
Earth shooting forth grass and flowers despite being a winter
wasteland.
Christ was born to save. His promise, is the promise of our life springing forth anew. It is found alone in His sacrifice.
What I invite you to reflect upon this Christmas day is the unique impact Christ's birth, death and resurrection have for you. While we are each under the spell of sleep and of death, of winter, our words of love mere half-words whispered low, our hours dark, and our faith a feeble stirring under the falling snow, because of why He came those many millennia ago, spring will come.
Christ was born to save. His promise, is the promise of our life springing forth anew. It is found alone in His sacrifice.
What I invite you to reflect upon this Christmas day is the unique impact Christ's birth, death and resurrection have for you. While we are each under the spell of sleep and of death, of winter, our words of love mere half-words whispered low, our hours dark, and our faith a feeble stirring under the falling snow, because of why He came those many millennia ago, spring will come.