At the midpoint of the Victorian era, in 1872, poet Christina Rossetti wrote the poem which, when set to music three decades later, became known as “In the Bleak Midwinter.” She initially had it published in the Scribners Monthly under the title “A Christmas Carol.” Living in London, it is interesting to note that she sent it to an American-based magazine. Rossetti also penned the lyrics for “Love Came Down at Christmas” which was set to a variety of tunes, a point to which we shall return.
Along with Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Rossetti was one of the foremost female poets of her day. She grew up in a family of writers and artists, and she was educated by her parents by reading religious works, classics, poems, fairy tales and novels. As an adult, she moved freely in the London society of well-known painters and authors. While a good part of her poetry was geared for children, she produced several devotional writings of significant depth. One of these, “The Face of the Deep,” is a devotional commentary on the book of Revelation which is nearly 600 pages long, and for all of its prose, it still includes 200 poems!
The right marriage of good lyrics with a good tune is ultimately what makes for a long-lasting Christmas carol. In 1906, Rossetti’s carol first entered an English hymnal, having been set with a tune composed by Gustav Holst known as “Cranham.” It’s a classic melancholic tune with a tinge of the minor. When you come to the first syllable of ‘winter’, the tempo slows down and the bass chord drops two notes downward to the minor 6th position. (For instance, from C to A.) Holst, an English composer after the Victorian period, is most well-known for his orchestral work, The Planets.
For myself, I am drawn to this song primarily for the tune. The simplicity of it has a way of etching into my mind, let alone, my heart and soul. But it may be this very simplicity that prompted English organist and composer Harold Darke to have a second go at it. He managed to complexify the melody without any loss of the calming, minor-tinged mood of the Holst version. His 1911 choral arrangement actually gave each verse a successive element, whereby the first verse starts with a solo and the latter ones build toward a full choir. If you are not familiar with this version, I recommend that you listen to it on YouTube (link below). Given the complexity, you can understand why it is not as familiar as other carols. Nevertheless, when 50 leading UK and US choirmasters were asked to rank their top choices for Christmas carols, their number one pick was Darke’s version of “In the Bleak Midwinter.” Little wonder that it is sung annually in the Kings College Advent-time concert at Cambridge.
And now to the lyrics (which are in full form below; I recommend reading them now before reading further here). The first verse clearly sets the mood of the world into which the incarnate God enters: a bleak, frosty, frozen, world, hard as iron and stone, only to be shrouded by layer upon layer of snow. This seasonal reference can also be applied metaphorically (and thus year- round) to society’s harshness. In this light, the bleak world is the world in which Herod ruled and in which Trump rules. Midwinter is also the time of the year of greatest darkness. The second verse presents the Great Paradox that set the mold for all subsequent paradoxes distinguishing the Christian gospel among other narratives. The infinite God, who cannot be contained by either the heavens or the earth, finds containment in a simple stable.
A third verse is often dropped from the sung versions. It builds off the same paradox whereby the incarnate deity, as a baby, is sufficiently contented within this new containment; the immediate barnyard surroundings and “a breastful of milk” are “enough.” Again, this is the same God who is worshipped by a hierarchy of angels and cherubim figures in the cosmic spiritual realms. Verse four drives home the same point. Angelic beings may be present, doing their acts of worship; this is all to be expected for such a grand moment. But the sort of worship that really counts for a new born babe is a mother’s affectionate kiss. All of this drives home the physicality of God’s new habitation.
The final verse brings about the devotional pivot-point that Rossetti was apt to do in her writings. “What can I bring?” The babe-God seemingly has enough, but nevertheless poor shepherds bring their animals and rich astrologers bring their treasures. This coupling of the two main guest- groups of the nativity story (or more properly, nativity stories), reminds us that the entire continuum of humanity is represented in the shepherds and wise men. The working poor and the
aristocratic rich, the local commoner and the foreign traveler, the insider Jew and the outsider Gentile, and thus every human being from every race and tongue is implicated between these polarities. Every person is included in the invitation to make homage.
And why not female and male, or slave and free, or national citizen and new immigrant? We could and we should extend the polarities represented by shepherds and magi.
British hymn writer Elizabeth Cosnett wrote an interesting commentary on Rossetti’s final verse by noting the place of women in Victorian society. She explained that “when a woman wrote these words, women were largely excluded from the professions and from higher education.” Rossetti, like the shepherds, did not have gainful employment; and like the wise men, she held no degree. Another hymnologist, reflecting on Cosnett’s observation, concluded that the final verse “does not invalidate the more general reading of the verse, but gives a special sharpness and poignancy to the last verse for those who wish to find it.”
This attention to the social conditions of one’s day is the best way to prevent the Christmas story from getting overly romanticized. The same applies to the original texts of the nativity. The shepherds were understood as marginalized workers in their day, and the story of the magi was entangled with an insecure king who ruthlessly (yet cunningly) used rhetoric and violence to maintain his own control over everything. Sometimes we look at Bible scenes depicted in European paintings as missing the mark because the scenery and costumes reflect the contemporary context of the painter. But this is precisely the point. Placing biblical stories in current settings is a way for old truths to speak a powerful word to the real world of social conditions.
Rossetti’s poem, I think, does some of this contextualization in a subtle way. It starts with imagery of ice and snow common to countries of northern latitudes, all of which suggests that winter’s seasonal bleakness and hardness is also a mark of societal life year- round. Then, similar to Mary’s Magnificat, the verses exalt the lowly and tame down the exalted, in this case, the heavenly realms ofworship. This paradoxical reversal has a profound meaning in the context of social inequities, especially to those who are victimized by others. And finally, Rossetti identifies her own status—“poor as I am”—in conjunction with shepherds and travelers. But note how this identification places her in good company. There’s dignity to be found here, which is precisely one of the main gifts that Jesus gave to the marginalized people during his time of ministry. While the poem and associated tune do lend themselves to a romantic feel, these social elements mitigate against the sentimentalizing tendency that sadly saturates much of our experience with Christmas carols.
Ultimately, in a world of limits, the closing theme of human choice pulls everything together. I mentioned above how “every person is included in the invitation to make homage.” Recall, though, that the shepherds and wise men came to the new family because of their response to the glory- lights which they had formerly beheld. They still had a choice to make, and they chose to come.
They had responded well to the para-doxa, literally, the ‘glory beyond’ conventional thinking or experience. They brought their animals and their boxed-gifts, but giving the greater part, namely their own hearts, is what really counted for something in the grand scheme of things. Rossetti amazingly climaxes her poem with that choice, making it available to every person regardless of their social state or condition.
The angelic host do not seem to operate by the same dynamics of choice. By vocation they simply give forth what they are called to give. The same could be said for nature, too, as depicted in the regal Advent Psalms (96-98). The heavens rejoice, the sea roars, the rivers clap their hands, and the mountains sing. We, however, in our limited state, actually have a higher dimension of response.
Poor as we are, we are response-able creatures. Our choices mean something to God. To give our warm, beating hearts, especially in the bleakness of our cold winter-world, is perhaps the best gift that God could get in return for the self-giving gift of coming among us.
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.
Our God, heaven cannot hold him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign:
In the bleak midwinter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.
Enough for him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk,
And a mangerful of hay:
Enough for him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.
Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air -
But only his mother
In her maiden bliss
Worshipped the beloved
With a kiss.
What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a wise man
I would do my part;
Yet what I can, I give him -
Give my heart.
Ted Lewis (1958-2024) was a frequent contributor to Radix and wrote this meditation in 2017. He was a restorative justice practitioner and trainer, founder of the Restorative Church project, and also served as the executive director for the International Jacques Ellul Society. Printed by permission of Nancy Lewis.