The Holly Bears a Berry

Each year, as the end of December approaches, we see the tension between two Christmases begin to rise. There is the Christian Christmas, about the birth of Jesus and the twelve days that begin on December 25. Then there is the secular Christmas, which has snowmen, polar bears, and both of these, strangely, often drinking Coca-Cola.

This splitting of Christmas has given rise to campaigns to “reclaim” Christmas as an exclusively Christian celebration. “Keep Christ in Christmas” and “Jesus is the reason for the season” being two popular slogans. (I am disappointed to report that I have not yet seen a “Keep the Hallows in Halloween” campaign to reclaim that occasion as the Vigil of All Saints Day.)

It is easy, when we think of Christian Christmas, to get lost in the lovely images so common now. A glowing, adoring Virgin Mary gazing at her perfect son. Quiet, protective St Joseph looking on from a safe distance. Some remarkably clean and sedate sheep, cattle, perhaps a donkey. The whole season takes on a placid, harmonious, solemn joy punctuated with sweet carols.

The truth is that Christmas, like all of our seasons, has more layers than may first seem. Even in the joy of our celebrations at the birth of our Saviour, there are reminders of what is to come in his life. Some carols remind us of this in their lyrics, even when sung to joyful, dancing tunes. The Holly Bears a Berry, a traditional Cornish Christmas carol (which is also sometimes sung in Passiontide) includes a verse which says, “Now the holly bears a berry, as blood is it red, then trust we our Saviour who rose from the dead.”

The blood referenced is, of course, the blood of Jesus, shed at his crucifixion. We are reminded that Jesus was born for a life that would include his murder. And that, for many Christians, to be a follower of Jesus means to risk sharing that fate. The calendar of the Western Church has, for centuries, reminded its faithful of this possibility by following Christmas Day immediately with three feasts of martyrs, each mirroring aspects of Jesus’ own death.

On December 26, the church remembers St Stephen the Protomartyr, a martyr in both will and deed. In chapters 6 and 7 of the Acts of the Apostles, we hear the story of St Stephen, a deacon, who is arrested and tried. In his trial, he offers a powerful testimony of his faith that Jesus is the Messiah, the fulfillment of the law. St Stephen knows that his words anger those trying him and, when he finishes speaking, he is dragged out of the city and stoned to death. For his unwavering commitment to the gospel, St Stephen shares the fate of Jesus: to be killed by those who cannot receive the good news that has changed his own life.

On December 27, the church remembers St John the Apostle, Evangelist, and, by tradition, the Divine who receives the Revelation. St John is a martyr in will but not in deed. He sets out to share the good news of Jesus and, like the other apostles, gathers a significant community of believers. St John’s work eventually draws the notice of Roman officials, who are most unhappy that he is continuing the project of the Galilean they had tried to rid themselves of. John is eventually arrested and goes to Rome for what he believes will be his own martyrdom. By the miraculous intervention of God, he survives every attempt the Romans make to kill him. Exasperated, the authorities exile him to the island of Patmos, where he is to spend the rest of his days. In spite of his willingness to be a martyr in the likeness of Jesus, God has other plans.

Finally, on December 28, the church remembers the Holy Innocents. This day is sometimes called Childermas. The Holy Innocents are martyrs not in will but in deed; the infants of Bethlehem killed by the fearful Herod’s order (Matthew 2:16-18). This day is, for many, the most difficult of the three Christmas martyr feasts to reckon with. Children murdered by those in power, not because of anything they had done, but because of who they might have been or who they might have become. This day is a powerful and sobering reminder of the lengths to which corrupt power will go to preserve itself. The Holy Innocents also has a long association as a day of remembrance for parents who have lived to see their own children die, sharing the sorrow of the parents of Bethlehem and of Mary, years later, at the foot of the Cross.

These three feasts may seem like a very strange or even inappropriate way to celebrate the early days of Christmastide. They are certainly heavy days to commemorate and may bring to mind the funeral rites—in the midst of life, we are in death—more readily than angels singing on high. But, beyond the immediate sadness at the details of their stories, they remind us of the pattern and promise that God revealed so perfectly in the life of Jesus. A pattern and promise we recall most loudly at Christmas: In the great joy of the arrival of our Saviour, at his death upon the Cross on Good Friday, and in the joys and sorrows of our own lives, even if they come to martyrdom, God is with us. Thanks be to God.