This year I encountered a new Christmas phenomenon: the “charcuterie chalet,” sometimes called a “meat mansion.” They’re festive little cabins made entirely of cured meats and cheese. They look fun and tasty.
At first glance, they feel deeply un-Christmas-y. No gingerbread. No sugar. No peppermint. Just… flesh.
But that’s actually closer to the heart of Christmas than we usually admit.
The incarnation is not about vibes or nostalgia. It’s about God taking on flesh. Weight. Blood. Bone. Jesus does not merely appear among us—He comes to be eaten, so to speak, as true food from heaven. He Himself draws the straight line from the manger to the cross, and from the cross to the Communion table.
As the hymn Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence puts it:
“Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood,
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heav’nly food.”
We have been trained to keep Christmas cute and non-corporeal. Yet Christmas is our redemption made visible. The incarnation is earthy, embodied, almost confrontational in how physical it is. It continues as we are baptized into His body. We will rise with Him! So we enjoy the sugar. But don’t forget to feast on Christ: our hope, born in a body, bled in a body, and the One who will raise our bodies too.
That is very good news indeed.