Friends and fellow travelers,
On this first day of Christmas and the last Sunday of the year, we greet you from our sabbatical home in Berlin, Germany. It has been a gray, wet winter here, but as we were walking toward the Berlin Cathedral the sun came out on Christmas Eve and turned the clouds and buildings rose gold, just an hour before the church began to ring its large bells to call people to the Christmas Eve service.
In this time of war, storms, uncertainty, and earthquakes, the longing for “peace on earth” is almost palpable, in our hearts, our homes, and in the world. We long for respite, for a break, or at least for some space between the emergencies. We can barely imagine how Immanuel, God with us, might really feel. Christmas songs ring hollow and Christmas-busyness fills, but also makes, the hollowness in our hearts.
Still, the sun transformed buildings yesterday from gray to rose gold. And we each know someone (or perhaps are someone) who has helped to carry a weary traveller’s burden this winter. So to all who carry a heavy load this night, to those who feel burdened or numb from the state of our world, to all who feel exhausted from their care for others or your own heartbreaks, to all who cradle hope against the odds, to all who have given up on Christmas altogether: on this Christmas Day, we bring you a gift to help you on your journey: our new translation of a poem by Herman Hesse, “Heiland” (Savior/Healer). It speaks to our darkness and also to the way that always, again, eternal love breaks through.
Der Heiland
Immer wieder wird er Mensch geboren
Spricht zu frommen, spricht zu tauben Ohren,
Kommt uns nah und geht uns neu verloren.
Immer wieder muß er einsam ragen,
aller Brüder Not und Sehnsucht tragen,
Immer wird er neu ans Kreuz geschlagen.
Immer wieder will sich Gott verkünden,
Will das Himmlische ins Tal der Sünden,
Will ins Fleisch der Geist, der ewige, münden.
Immer wieder, auch in diesen Tagen,
ist der Heiland unterwegs, zu segnen,
Unsern Ängsten, Tränen, Fragen, Klagen
Mit dem stillen Blicke zu begegnen,
Den wir doch nicht zu erwidern wagen,
Weil nur Kinderaugen ihn ertragen
The Healer
Hermann Hesse
Always He is born a human, again
to speak to the devout and the one in pain
to live among us and get lost in vain.
Always must He walk alone again
and bear our longing and disdain,
always nailed to the cross, again.
Always again God seeks to reveal
that Heaven in our stable kneels,
and Spirit eternal seeks our weal.
Always again, and still today,
our healer walks amidst our fray
to bless our fears, doubts, and disarray.
To greet us with those quiet eyes
we dare not meet. We are not wise
as children who might bear the love His gaze implies.
Transl.: Almut Furchert & Chuck Huff
(We have tried in this new translation to maintain some of the rhyme scheme and music of the German original.)
In this spirit, to all in joy or sorrow, here is our Christmas wish:
May Divine hope come to kneel in your stable, always again, this day and into the new year.
Those of you journeying along with us in our Twelve Days of Christmas Contemplations might take our version of Hesse’s poem and read it out loud as though to someone who needs to hear this word. Then read it to yourself for the news it carries for you, someone in need of a healer. Then, read it again.
And finally, May Christmas find you where you are.
Chuck & Almut & little Hannah
PS: If you would like to become part of our 12 Days of Christmas journey you can still enroll.