Peace on Earth

A friend of mine left church early yesterday so that he could make it to his family’s Christmas celebration. Now, I know that there are a wide variety of Christmas traditions, but late February doesn’t seem to work for any of them - too late for Epiphany, way too early for Christmas in July, etc. He explained, however, that this was simply when his family could get together. I’ve done the same in the past, thanks to having family scattered from North Carolina to Michigan; I think our record was a family Christmas get-together in April.

Despite the calendar mismatch, the mention of Christmas put me in the mind of Christmas songs. Not the traditional, happy carols like “Joy to the World” and “O Come All Ye Faithful” (although I do love those). Nor the modern, intricate instrumentals of Trans-Siberian Orchestra or Mannheim Steamroller (although I do love those, too). Instead, I was thinking of the not-so-happy songs, like U2’s “Peace on Earth”:

They’re reading names out over the radio All the folks, the rest of us, won’t get to know Sean and Julia, Gareth, Ann and Breda Their lives are bigger than any big idea

Jesus can you take the time To throw a drowning man a line Peace on Earth To tell the ones who hear no sound Whose sons are living in the ground Peace on Earth Jesus in the song you wrote The words are sticking in my throat Peace on Earth Hear it every Christmas time But hope and history won’t rhyme So what’s it worth? This peace on Earth

Sean, Julia, Gareth, Ann, and Breda were victims of the Omagh bombing in Northern Ireland on August 15, 1998.

Or “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”:

I heard the bells on Christmas day Their old familiar carols play; In music sweet the tones repeat, “There’s peace on earth, good will to men.”

And in despair I bowed my head: “There is no peace on earth,” I said, “For hate is strong, and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote the poem upon which this song was based in 1863, during the height of the American Civil War. His wife had died in a fire two years earlier, and he had received word that his son, who had joined the Union Army without his blessing, had been severely injured in battle.

And this seems like a downer - inappropriate Christmas songs for an inappropriate Christmas season - but there’s a lot to be down about right now.

An unprovoked war rages in Ukraine, leaving hundreds dead and hundreds of thousands fleeing their homes, and it’s just starting.

Economic hardship is bearing down on 140 million Russians, most of whom have little or no involvement in the war.

India remains conspicuously neutral, because of their own past conflicts and history with the West.

Civil war in Ethiopia continues, with thousands dead and 2.5 million displaced, with a fraction of the attention that the war in Ukraine has received. (Because people aren’t concerned about it threatening surrounding countries? Because they don’t look like us? I don’t know.)

There is much evil in the world.

And that’s to say nothing of the smaller, personal tragedies hitting those around me: A beloved church elder and businessman dies suddenly from Covid. A young couple’s marriage falls into pieces. A family deals with the fallout of their daughter’s molestation. Another man battles cancer while weighed down by depression, a history of health problems, and bad medical advice. A family copes with the revelation that their newborn has a fatal genetic disease. All of these pale in size and scope to wars in Ukraine or Ethiopia, but that makes them scarcely less painful to those affected.

Sometimes downer songs are an appropriate response - to mourn those lost, to acknowledge if we’re drowning or bowing our heads in despair, to feel the gulf between Christian hope and humanity’s history. In Biblical terms, to lament. Because these Christmas songs also remind us that lament isn’t the end. Longfellow’s carol continues:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: “God is not dead, nor does He sleep, The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then ringing singing on its way The world revolved from night to day A voice, a chime, a chant sublime Of peace on earth good will to men.

Christ has come! God is with us. And he has promised to make all things right, to defeat evil and death, to wipe away every tear, to remove mourning and crying and pain (Rev. 21:3-4).

And, even when we can’t hear the Christmas bells’ promise - when, like U2, the words stick in our throat and we’re left wondering what it’s worth - the act of bringing these laments to God is itself a statement of faith in God. Because we know that Immanuel, God with us, means that Christ has experienced the same hurts that we have, that he has taken the world’s evil upon himself, that he is with us even in the midst of our despair.