Hygge

Pastor’s Epistle—December, A.D. 2019 A

Few tasks prove lonelier than that of the liturgically-minded pastor in December, forever entreating people to hold off on their celebrations, to slow down and enjoy the solace of Advent, to resist the ever-earlier creep of crass Christmas commercialization. “Evergreens in November?” we gasp, clutching earnestly at our pearls. “I may come down with a case of the vapors!” It’s all in vain, if we’re honest. One cannot hold back the tide with a teacup.

Well, not this year. At least not with the same earnestness I’ve managed to muster up for previous Decembers. The truth, I suspect, is that we all need a little Christmas (right this very minute) to make it through the drearier months of autumn, and the building stress of the holidays and New Year to come. If a little wintergreen lifts our spirits—well, one does weary of feeling rather like Ebenezer Scrooge.

I will, however, encourage our congregation to embrace, as best we can, the best of both worlds. We needn’t feel terribly guilty for listening (in hushed tones, I’m sure) to Christmas carols at Thanksgiving. But at the same time, it would surely do us good to heed the lessons of Advent: lessons of slowing down, of savoring silence, of sitting quietly with our God. Few things could be more countercultural—or more desperately needed in these days.

As the name implies, Advent is the season of joyful preparation for the coming of our Lord: in Bethlehem, yes, but also in Word and in Sacrament, in hearth and in home; and finally at the End of the Age, when Christ shall come again to free us from every fetter, when the earth and sea shall divulge the dead in the great Resurrection, and when God at last will be All in All. Knowing that Christ meets us in our past, our present, and our future frees us from worldly worries and cares, not through naiveté but through Nativity.

You might recognize some of this in the Nordic notion of hygge, which is having something of a moment in popular culture right now. Hygge (hyoo-guh) roughly translates as “coziness,” and contains connotations of quiet togetherness, warmth and warm feelings, getting away from the hustle and bustle of society to enjoy winter cabins and cocoa around the fire. No screens, no internet. Just board games and books and contented snuggling on the sofa. Hygge is Advent, with a bit less explicit spirituality.

There’s so much uncertainty in our world today. The government, the economy, the environment, all seem constantly to be in uproar and agitation. But this much is certain: Christ is forever arriving, forever abiding, forever returning. You will find Him in simple kindnesses, in humble acts of truth and of love, and in the indiscriminate generosity shown to young and old, rich and poor, lover and stranger alike. And of course we will find Him in community, in the chalice at the altar. He is our Rock in a sea of change.

Christmas will come. That is hope enough, and to spare.

Stay hygge, my friends.