It has not always been obvious to me that Christmas trees were more Christian than pagan. They are a Germanic tradition, popularized by Queen Victoria (from one of the German states) in nineteenth-century England. To be sure, the lights festooned through the branches (originally real candles) create a magical sense of another world, one we long for but cannot see. But I wanted more of the Good News of Christmas, so I often placed a creche at the base or nearby, thinking surely this is the true meaning of Christmas.
Yet now I see that the Christmas tree seemed to be our way of taking earthly things – ourselves and our surrounding natural world – and making them spiritual, fantastic, mysterious, and beautiful, in a sense Godlike. We too, wonder if we could have those lights festooned through our souls, the Holy Spirit blinking in our earthly flesh.
So in a sense the tree, once decorated (don’t forget the lights), reaches for Heaven, the star on top pulling us higher. We gaze into the branches of our pasts, hoping to understand who we are today and who we will become on our journey into tomorrow. We play carols as we look into the depths of the fir and think about the true meaning of Christmas, the Incarnation of the Son of God come among us.
Yet today as we welcomed our tree into our home – a smaller one since we are shrinking with age – and set it in the window, filled the bucket with water, and trimmed the lower branches so the cat would not be tempted, I saw this tree anew and it didn’t even have lights yet.
For it was alive, wasn’t it? And now it has died for us. In the death of the tree, our home was enlivened by fragrance and light. The tree has joined our family for a few weeks, drawing our attention to Christmas Day, helping us focus on the miracle of Christmas. This tree, humble and real and sitting in the window, is our way to Bethlehem. It will light our journey over the next week.
From these simple realities, I added the symbolism of the evergreen tree in our glorious story of Christ Jesus. For there was an earlier tree, we are told, at the beginning of time, a tree with forbidden fruit. It was the tree that stood in that first garden, Eden. It saw the woman Eve approach; it saw the snake Lucifer curl around the woman, whispering into her ear; it heard the words to disobey God and achieve godlike knowledge; It saw her take a bite and offer the fruit to Adam; it saw humanity fall into disease and death.
We are told by theologians that the tree reappears on Golgotha, that hill outside Jerusalem, many years later. It is on the wood of a tree that Christ Jesus cancels the Fall, raising us up with him in his resurrection. And so on Good Friday we meditate upon the wood of the cross, thinking of Eden and the wood of that other tree with its forbidden fruit. Mary becomes the new Eve, crushing the serpent at her feet.
The images of salvation weave a rich tapestry in time and into eternity. The more we read and the more we study and the more we listen to our preachers and teachers, the deeper we go into the ever-greenness of those fir branches. We, like the children of Lewis’s Narnia, enter the closet of furs and emerge into the world of eternal life.
As I loop strings of lights on our tree, I will think of the light of Bethlehem – the star over the stable, and the Christ Child in the manger. But I will also think of the tree of life that became the tree of death and then life again.
All so we could come with him. All so we could live eternally within his love, the love of God. If we choose to, that is.
And as I nest a few ornaments in the branches, I will see my past in the greenery, just as my past forms my present and informs my future.
And as I hear the words sung by a choir of faithful, It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old…, or perhaps Silent night, holy night…, I will know I have one foot in Heaven already. Perhaps it is the first rung of a wooden ladder that Jacob saw in his dream.
I will know what we can know, not what we are forbidden to know, and thus I will be protected from evil. I will know the love of God is right here, surrounding me, holding me, leading me through the valleys left in my life, up the mountain to the stars, for even if I walk through the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for he is with me.
Glory is all around us. See it. Hear it. Feel it. Touch it. Believe it is real. Invite Christ into your heart this Christmas and know joy eternally.
Christine Sunderland
Christine Sunderland 