The rose, and I did mention they are my passion, keeps coming up in the context of Christmas. Although I’m closer to an agnostic than the typical Christian, believing there is more than one way that our complex relationshp with god is experienced, more than one history that describes it, I thought I would write something about the symbolism of the rose in Christmas stories, in honor of the day. In my research I found three stories of the rose.
The popularism of the Da Vinci Code lead to the opportunity for many authors to write, and sell!, more in-depth books about Mary Magdalene, symbolized by the rose. There’s also the story of a small girl who visited the baby Jesus and had no gift for him. Her tears turned into the the Christmas rose (which scholars say is really not a rose at all). The third is my favorite because of the hauntingly beautiful hymn that describes Jesus’ mother Mary as the rose.
There is no rose of such virtue
As is the rose that bare Jesu
Allelulia
(There are more verses.) The thread that I see consistently running through these stories is the strong correlation of the rose with the mystery of womanhood. The silky petals, the bawdy pinks and reds, and the many layers reaveled in the unfolding of a hybrid tea rose from bud to blossom, borders on the erotic. Passion is earned. But this devine transformation happens with such an innocence of purpose. We think of the child, the mother, the sister, partner and friend.
Allelulia