Dear Saints,

The Advent season of 1863 was not a happy one for Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. A year earlier, some sealing wax had fallen onto his wife’s dress and gone up in flames. Henry rushed to save her, but she was burned beyond recovery and died the next day; he, too, suffered significant burns that would plague him for the rest of his life. Shortly thereafter, Henry endured another devastation when his son, a soldier in the Union army, was shot in the back, the bullet nicking his spine and ripping through his shoulder.

So it’s no surprise that, come Christmas, the great poet would pen the following lines:

And in despair I bowed my head;

“There is no peace on earth,” I said:

“For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

What is extraordinary is that the poem doesn’t end there. The very next stanza is a testament to the kind of hope and faith that cannot be defeated, not even by the worst tragedy:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

Even in the midst of his suffering - perhaps especially in the midst of his suffering - Longfellow understood Advent’s promise: Jesus will be on the scene every time, in every circumstance. He is coming into our grief, pain, bewilderment, and even despair, so as to set things right. It’s ours only to be ready for him.

Christ’s Peace,

Father Daniel

δοῦλος Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ