100 Years Ago - Christmas Eve
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/edition/register/the-hope-of-bethlehem-nk3kcmqxf
december 23, 1916
The hope of Bethlehem
There is a wistful tone in our voices as we sing the Christmas songs this year; we cannot forget, and we ought not to forget, amid what scenes this loveliest of festivals is kept this year.
When two years ago we came to the first Christmas of the war, we had to adapt ourselves to new conditions; the new has become familiar now, and it requires a deliberate effort of memory to return to the old Christmas; but it lives, where all the ancient joys and hopes of the world live, in the heart of the little child. And there is hope still to be received in Bethlehem. When the story of 1916 has to be learned by school-boys in coming days, perhaps they will think first, not of the war but of some mighty personality, at present helpless in its mother’s arms.
The hope which springs from Bethlehem has passed through many phases. The poets loved in other days to dwell upon the mystery of the Incarnation, and upon the startling contrast between the outward scene and the Divine glory. But there came a time when such metaphysical claims left men cold; upon the modern heart there came a great compassion for humanity, and with that a recoil from the faith which delighted in Divine mysteries. Christmas became the festival that hallowed childhood and motherhood, and promised an era of goodwill and peace. It was the Christmas of Charles Dickens, whose generous spirit responded to all the hopes of humanity.
But there are signs of a return to the Divine Mysteries. The strange adoring language of the saints awakens an echo in the hearts of many today, who draw near to the Manger not to adore childhood and motherhood, but to worship in that Babe the incarnate Son of God.
The Church, harassed by failure, returns at Christmas not to a heavenly scene, as a refuge for exiles from a doomed world, but to a vision of this world redeemed. This earth is where man’s doubts find their play, and it is of this earth they ask, “Is there any hope?” In such an hour Advent comes with its promise. No despair is permitted. So much has been done, so much has been sunk in this divine enterprise, that it cannot be abandoned. And if hope is low there are ways, long and steep and thorny, but still ways, that can be trod to the Manger. Adeste fideles.
december 23, 1916
The hope of Bethlehem
There is a wistful tone in our voices as we sing the Christmas songs this year; we cannot forget, and we ought not to forget, amid what scenes this loveliest of festivals is kept this year.
When two years ago we came to the first Christmas of the war, we had to adapt ourselves to new conditions; the new has become familiar now, and it requires a deliberate effort of memory to return to the old Christmas; but it lives, where all the ancient joys and hopes of the world live, in the heart of the little child. And there is hope still to be received in Bethlehem. When the story of 1916 has to be learned by school-boys in coming days, perhaps they will think first, not of the war but of some mighty personality, at present helpless in its mother’s arms.
The hope which springs from Bethlehem has passed through many phases. The poets loved in other days to dwell upon the mystery of the Incarnation, and upon the startling contrast between the outward scene and the Divine glory. But there came a time when such metaphysical claims left men cold; upon the modern heart there came a great compassion for humanity, and with that a recoil from the faith which delighted in Divine mysteries. Christmas became the festival that hallowed childhood and motherhood, and promised an era of goodwill and peace. It was the Christmas of Charles Dickens, whose generous spirit responded to all the hopes of humanity.
But there are signs of a return to the Divine Mysteries. The strange adoring language of the saints awakens an echo in the hearts of many today, who draw near to the Manger not to adore childhood and motherhood, but to worship in that Babe the incarnate Son of God.
The Church, harassed by failure, returns at Christmas not to a heavenly scene, as a refuge for exiles from a doomed world, but to a vision of this world redeemed. This earth is where man’s doubts find their play, and it is of this earth they ask, “Is there any hope?” In such an hour Advent comes with its promise. No despair is permitted. So much has been done, so much has been sunk in this divine enterprise, that it cannot be abandoned. And if hope is low there are ways, long and steep and thorny, but still ways, that can be trod to the Manger. Adeste fideles.