Over the river, and through the wood,Did you know that that song was originally written as a Thanksgiving poem? (The wonders of Wikipedia!) It’s an easy transition to Christmas. For some reason, Grandfather’s house in the original becomes Grandmother’s house at Christmas. And a few specific references to Thanksgiving Day are changed to Christmas. But in either case, it captures the joy and excitement of a shared holiday, especially shared between grandparents and grandchildren. It captures some of the special goodness in that very special relationship.
To Grandmother’s house we go;
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river, and through the wood—Last night was all about the herald angels and a wondrous star, as we remembered Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. This morning, the day after, the grandparents showed up to see the new baby. We have absolutely no evidence that Jesus’ grandparent actually did show up. In fact, most likely they did not. But it’s fun to imagine that, like grandparents today, they did show up right after the birth to welcome their new grandchild. Over the last few days I’ve had fun imagining what they might have been like. Sort of an amalgamation of Leave It to Beaver America and the stereotypical Jewish grandmother, clucking and fussing, with a little bit of my own thrown in as well.
It is so hard to wait!
Over the river, and through the wood—
Now Grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
We know virtually nothing of course. Tradition gives names to Mary’s parents. Out of deference to her, stories were created in the second century to supply a fuller account of her birth and family. The stories are woven from Old Testament cloth, not historical reality. But we might borrow their names, Anne and Joachim, as we imagine Jesus’ grandparents.
I know that not all human families embody the ideal relationship between grandparents and grandchildren. But what is that ideal in our minds? Grandparents are those who bestow extravagant love. Not encumbered by the need or guidance or discipline that parents rightly feel, grandparents are free to pour out unlimited and extravagant love.
And to cherish the gift of this grandchild as a wondrous and miraculous gift. From a practical perspective, grandparents can only see themselves as indirectly responsible (at best) for the birth of their grandchildren. So the child is a gift. A gift to be cherished. In fact, if grandparents could directly cause the birth of a grandchild, I know quite a few—grandmothers especially—who would do so. But they can’t. The child is a gift. To be wondered at and treasured.
We do well to remember what this child does for us. How he was born to redeem us from sin and transform the darkness into light. But maybe this morning we might also remember what we can do for him. Perhaps we might imagine ourselves in the role of Jesus’ grandparents. We are like Jesus’ grandparents. A new baby has been born, a wonderful gift for us. Let us shower upon him extravagant and unfettered love. Cherish him. Treasure him. Hold him close.
