Say You Love Me
The Czech Republic boasts the most beekeepers per capita in the EU with over 53,000 self-reported, meaning there are roughly as many beekeepers in this nation as there are Christians!
It doesn’t take long to observe that there is a deep and abiding love for all things bees. Meander down most any country road for a bit and you will cross paths with a collection of hives, often housed in an old-world gypsy caravan of sorts. Even in the cities it is not uncommon for apartment dwellers to keep a hive or two out on their balconies! Among the more common wares being sold at roadside stands or out of residential dwellings are jars of clover honey.
From cosmetic products and meads(honey wines), to delicious honey cakes, the influence of honey is ubiquitous.
This love of honey is not a new trend, as older Christmas traditions have also incorporated honey as a central feature of the celebration. Tradition says that a honey pot on the Christmas table will ward away evil. Additionally, young people may anoint their faces with honey. This is believed to promise being admired and finding romantic love in the year ahead.
While slathering honey on one’s face may not be the preferred method for garnering affection in all cultural contexts, we might do well to be reflective about the myriad of lengths we do go to be liked and loved in our own ways. From the proliferation of plastic surgeries, fad diets, YouTube make-up tutorials, and dating apps, to the gratification we receive from social media engagement via ‘likes’ and subscriptions and followers. We all hope to quench our loneliness in some way and reinforce the feeling that we are well-liked. It would seem we are a culture simply in love with being loved, or with appearing to be loved? Living in love with love, whatever that means to you, might be the highest American virtue at present. In the meantime, surveying demonstrates that we are progressively less and less satisfied than previous generations.
One of our sweetest Christmas memories was a meal shared with an older childless couple in our church in Southern Bohemia. They came to our house and cooked us a traditional Christmas meal, with fried carp and potato salad. As we gathered at the table they read the nativity of Christ directly from the Bible. They brought treats for each of our young children and distributed them as we sat quaintly and quietly around the table. We fumbled with our insufficient Czech. They threw out the few words of English they knew. The evening was neither perfect nor picturesque. It was more an exercise in awkwardness and vulnerability than nostalgic advent myrth. Yet, why does this memory speak so much more clearly and authentically to our hearts than a thousand other Christmas memories? Perhaps it was simply the meeting of thirsty souls, they without children of their own, and we reckoning with our extended family thousands of miles away. They were sincere moments. There were no photos taken that night, no instagram posts, no extra efforts to make some appearance of something else. Even as Christians I realize we continue to struggle with seeking perfection in so many wrong ways and in the wrong things. Authentic relationships are an elusive thing in a broken world, as elusive as the perfection we hope to portray online.
Maybe this Christmas we’ll aim not for the perfect pictures or social media moments, but rather the authentically awkward moments of togetherness, connection, and the knowledge that our Savior came into our broken world to fellowship with us, graceless as we are.
