[22] 94 Away In A Manger

‘The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,
But little Lord Jesus no crying he makes.
I love thee, Lord Jesus! Look down from the sky,
And stay by my bedside till morning is nigh.’

What’s with this Victorian obsession with children being silent and obedient? Silent Night, O Little Town of Bethlehem, Once in Royal David’s City, and of course Away in a Manger all talk about things being quiet; perhaps out of a perceived need for reverence and awe. Retrospectively forcing silence onto historical events is of course ridiculous: imagine a silent labour, a silent new-born, a silent father-to-be! This just wouldn’t happen – Mary must have screamed in pain, Jesus must have bawled with his first gulp of air, and Joseph must have paced the stable floor like a mad man. All this on top of the lowing cattle!

My main problem with imposing gentle quietness onto the infant Jesus is that it seems to set a precedent for a pure and meek Christ which is also not true. Reading the gospels we find occasions over and over again where He breaks the rules, acts against the norm and even plain gets it wrong. I love the image of Him turning over tables in the temple (Mt 21:12), he goes against one of the commandments by acting against his mother’s wishes (Lk 2:48-50), and then there’s one of my favourite passages in the bible (Mk 7 25:30). This is the occasion of the Syrophoenician asking Jesus to heal her son. Jesus refuses angrily, and goes as far as to throw in a racial slur. She bests him with a clever remark, and he changes his mind. He learns. He becomes better than he had been. This is so far from a perfect Christ.

I don’t have the theological knowledge to argue that Jesus wasn’t perfect and sinless, so I’ll stop far short of that, but to me it seems to me that a perfect Jesus is completely not the point. He came down to experience human life and pain, fully human as well as fully divine. I don’t want to present this as the only interpretation, or even a thoroughly researched one, but rather this is how I feel. If you do consider Him sinless, as the Victorian hymn-writers probably did do, then why are these same writers implying that, as a sinless being, Jesus shouldn’t cry? Are crying children sinning?

I reckon that this romantic notion that children should be silent is actually quite pernicious: it creates a picture-postcard idealised notion of Christ, which goes hand-in-hand with other false Christmas-isms, such as Holy-Land snow.

Must admit I’m finding it difficult to turn this one around and find something to redeem this carol. Perhaps by making us look into the background more closely, it has helped us examine our faith more frankly. For that at least, thanks be to God!