In the Bleak Midwinter Christina Rossetti
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, Breastful of milk, and a
mangerful of hay; Enough for Him, whom angels fall before, The ox
and ass and camel which adore. Angels and archangels may have
gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air; But His
mother only, 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.
Through the musical
settings of Gustav Holst and Harold Darke, Rossetti’s poem has become a
standard at Christmas, including Christmas here at St. James. In
this Poem of the Week series, we’ve read two other poems by Christina
Rossetti—“Good Friday” and “Up-Hill.” Rossetti was one of the finest
poets of the Victorian era, and when Tennyson died, her name was
suggested for Poet Laureate—but England wasn’t ready for a female poet
laureate at that time! Her poetry is richly varied, and her work
includes long narrative poems like “Goblin Market,” lyrics on both
secular and religious subjects, and even nursery rhymes. Rossetti could
write splendidly about joy and love. But she could also write about
darkness. As someone who struggled with depression all her life, she
knew dark days, and in poetry she gave voice to that darkness and
struggled to reconcile it with her faith. “In the bleak
midwinter” is full of vivid contrasts. In the first stanza, we get an
evocative description of winter (clearly, an English winter, not a
Palestinian one!). It is “the bleak midwinter,” and everything is frozen
and hard – “earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.” This winter
is deep and seems to have gone on forever—Rossetti masterfully creates
that sense of winter’s duration in the line “snow had fallen, snow on
snow, snow on snow,” which adds layer upon layer to this winter.
In the second stanza, God enters into this coldness and hardness.
Rossetti describes both the first and second comings of Christ in the
poem. Heaven and earth are too small to hold him, and both will “flee
away” when he comes again; but at this moment in time, “in the bleak
midwinter,” Christ enters in. Rossetti evokes the simplicity,
the poverty of the Christmas stable, again, through powerful contrasts.
“Cherubim worship [him] night and day,” but here, Christ has only a
“breastful of milk and a mangerful of hay.” Angels fall down in worship
before him, but he accepts the homage of animals. There may have been
archangels gathered around, but here in the stable, his mother’s kiss is
enough. Again and again, Rossetti contrasts the power and glory
of heaven with the simplicity and poverty of earth. For me, Rossetti’s
poem recalls the early Christian hymn in St. Paul’s letter to the
Philippians: “Christ Jesus… though he was in the form of God, did not
regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied
himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness”
(Philippians 2:6-7). This self-emptying love of Christ is seen in the
Incarnation, and reaches its fullest expression on the cross. I
think that passage from Philippians also sheds light on the last stanza
of the poem: “What can I give him, poor as I am?” The poem began with
such a barren image of the bleak midwinter – a frozen earth, “water like
a stone.” And at the end, the speaker is similarly barren. She has no
role to play here – she is neither a shepherd nor a wise man – and she
has no gift to give: nothing except her heart—her love, her self.
I am reminded of St. Therese’s words of self-offering: “At the close of
life's evening I shall appear before you with empty hands.”
Christmas is so associated with joy and hope and light and peace that it
can seem like there is no room for sadness or darkness. But in this
poem, Christina Rossetti makes room. Christ comes not just into the
sunshine and happiness, but into the “bleak midwinter” of our world. In
his self-emptying love, Christ gives meaning to our emptiness.
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