Lully Lulla
Something I like about the Western Christmas tradition is how many Christmas carols are lullabies. Silent Night and Away in a Manger are definitely written in the style of a lullaby, and there are ones I know of in French, German and Dutch as well. Some are actual lullabies not addressed to the Christ child but to some mother's baby as she reflects on the birth of Christ.
Maybe it's because I am nursing my second child this Christmas, that I notice these things. And I wonder, these folk carols that have come down to us through many generations, were they written by clergy to bring the message of the incarnation home to average folk--those nursing and caring for infants? Or were they written by the women themselves--woven out of the already existing nursery melodies and the readings and hymns they heard in Church?
Or was it just the fact of the Baby Jesus himself that inspired the young men and the old bards to compose songs like this?
Whatever the case, there is something about singing my baby to sleep that can feel like one of the most sacred moments in my life as a mother. However much my baby screams, fusses, squirms, poops, or spits up when awake, in this moment I can reflect on the Eternity present in the tiny soul resting in my arms, and on the mystery of my Lord born in this same way of a woman.
Some of the lullabies mention Herod's slaughter of the innocents, and while this might seem gruesomely out of place, there is a sense in which all lullabies are bittersweet, and have a dark undertone. I comfort my babies, making them feel utterly safe and loved, and yet I know that the world outside my home, my arms (and even within my arms--the darkness of my own soul!) is a dark and dangerous place, marred by sin and death.
I just went to my two year old son who woke up with a bad dream, and stroking his head found myself whispering--it's all right. Everything is all right. And I caught myself wondering, But is it?
And this is the joy, for me, of anticipating Christmas. Because it is! Light in the darkness. God made flesh. The Lord is Come! Emmanuel! He has put on our flesh to restore the fallen image, to save us from sin and death.
It is a special thing to contemplate and celebrate the Feast of the Nativity as a mother of young children. These little, squalid, Wonders.
And we say, "How can this be?..."
Maybe it's because I am nursing my second child this Christmas, that I notice these things. And I wonder, these folk carols that have come down to us through many generations, were they written by clergy to bring the message of the incarnation home to average folk--those nursing and caring for infants? Or were they written by the women themselves--woven out of the already existing nursery melodies and the readings and hymns they heard in Church?
Or was it just the fact of the Baby Jesus himself that inspired the young men and the old bards to compose songs like this?
Whatever the case, there is something about singing my baby to sleep that can feel like one of the most sacred moments in my life as a mother. However much my baby screams, fusses, squirms, poops, or spits up when awake, in this moment I can reflect on the Eternity present in the tiny soul resting in my arms, and on the mystery of my Lord born in this same way of a woman.
Some of the lullabies mention Herod's slaughter of the innocents, and while this might seem gruesomely out of place, there is a sense in which all lullabies are bittersweet, and have a dark undertone. I comfort my babies, making them feel utterly safe and loved, and yet I know that the world outside my home, my arms (and even within my arms--the darkness of my own soul!) is a dark and dangerous place, marred by sin and death.
I just went to my two year old son who woke up with a bad dream, and stroking his head found myself whispering--it's all right. Everything is all right. And I caught myself wondering, But is it?
And this is the joy, for me, of anticipating Christmas. Because it is! Light in the darkness. God made flesh. The Lord is Come! Emmanuel! He has put on our flesh to restore the fallen image, to save us from sin and death.
It is a special thing to contemplate and celebrate the Feast of the Nativity as a mother of young children. These little, squalid, Wonders.
And we say, "How can this be?..."
posted by mamachurchmouse at 21:06
3 comments
