Carrol Vertrees: Hard for some to find joy in this ‘Bleak Midwinter’

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Carrol Vertrees

Updated: January 19, 2012 10:40AM

“In the Bleak Midwinter” is a hymn of eloquence, reminding us of the gift that was delivered to a frozen world centuries ago. The words by Christina Rossetti are gripping, year after year in this unique season. They shine through the winter bleakness.

It is a season of joy. But for many, the bleakness persists, bleak not only because of the darkness and cold, but because jobs have disappeared, and some even face hunger.

It is hard to raise our voices in happy song in such severe circumstances.

Veterans coming home from far-away places of conflict, for example. For some, the joy of their homecoming is not infinite, because they have no jobs. These lines by reporter Carole Carlson about a veteran caught in that web show how fragile the veneer of joy can be: “That magical homecoming has faded with the falling leaves.”

Most of us have enjoyed steady jobs, and most of us have never been hungry or without hope. It is impossible to comprehend the depth of the darkness and pain, the bleakness that dims the joy of this season.

Some politicians don’t help — they just don’t get it. One said recently to some demonstrators, “Take a bath and get a job.” Clever talk, but when millionaires talk like that they are being cruelly snobbish. Maybe he can help some of them get jobs as lobbyists.

Another candidate said, “I know how you people feel.” Humbug. He doesn’t know how they feel because he has never been in their situations.

To be honest, many of us don’t know how they feel either.

How can a man lift himself by his bootstraps if he cannot afford boots?

Years ago, when Barry Goldwater was running for president, an opponent’s ad depicted Goldwater as saying, “Use your ingenuity. Inherit a department store.” Goldwater had done that. Isn’t politics fun?

Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote about Ivan Denisovich, a political prisoner in one of Russia’s infamous prisons, where he is cold all of the time. He ponders this and wonders about the attitudes of the well-fed guards. Then he discovers a profound truth: “How can I expect a man who is warm to understand a man who is cold?”

There is a lesson there for all of us.

I thought that I was poor back on the farm, but I wasn’t sure. We had food, fun and love. I remember, though, that life was hard for parents like mine. One year the orange in my Christmas sock was a bit lopsided, but I knew that the thought behind that little gift was perfect, and that is how I try to remember it.

In rural Indiana’s bleak midwinters we were often cold but our neighbors were cold, too, so we knew how they felt. We still sang with grateful hearts about what the season meant.

I wonder how the poor, the lonely are handling the Christmas season. Some are among the “new poor,” struggling in this bleak midwinter for the first time.

I hope they can still sing the eloquent phrases that are a gift from Rossetti, and other carols of the good news. The bleak midwinter will, in its time, break into the warmth of spring.

Condescending platitudes from candidates, or from us, miss the spirit of the season. A lopsided orange given in love is far better. That is what I believe.