Today, on the Eve of Christmas, I’d like to share some reflections on one of my favorite Christmas carols, “The Holly & the Ivy.” Over the past few years, I’ve had the joy of singing this song many times as I’ve taught it to my children (and you know children—they sometimes ask for Christmas songs when it isn’t remotely close to Christmas!) and sung it annually with children in my church community.
At first glance, it may seem like not a lot is going on in the song. Sure, it has a pretty melody and festive nature imagery, but there isn’t much in the simple declarative statements that is spiritually profound. Is it more than a ditty for children or a piece for choral music enthusiasts?
I would answer with an emphatic YES! When we plumb its depths, we can find much of spiritual worth in this carol, which turns out to be as much about the crucifixion as about the nativity.
First Verse
The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.
The first of these considerations comes not from the song itself, but from its context. Although we don’t have any record of “The Holly & the Ivy” from before the 19th century, it seems to be quite a bit older, both musically and textually. There are numerous medieval carols in which the personified figures of Holly and Ivy vie for supremacy. One such carol, “Ivy Chief of Trees It Is,” proclaims ivy the winner—repeatedly—in the refrain, declaring “veni coronaberis” (“come, you will be crowned”).
In several carols, Holly is allegorized as male and Ivy as female, so the texts dramatize something of a battle of the sexes. Sometimes Holly triumphs, and sometimes Ivy; as we might expect, there are arguments for both sides.
But in “The Holly & the Ivy,” we find the emphatic assertion that holly, not ivy, is the best tree in the forest—and for reasons that transcend the claims of male or female superiority. Why? Because the holly plant offers us a mnemonic of Christ’s birth, death, and redemption of his people (as we will see in the following verses). In contrast to other holly and ivy carols, discord between male and female becomes a non-issue here. And instead of allegory, the text employs a series of implied similes in the verses.
Second Verse
The holly bears a blossom
As white as lily flower;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet Savior.
This verse sets up a pattern that each ensuing verse will repeat: something about the holly reminds us of something about Christ. This is where the “implied simile” I mentioned above comes into play, because the carol doesn’t tell us, “the holly represents Jesus because of x, y, and z.” Instead, the text depends upon our powers of association to pick up on the simile. What do white blossoms suggest? Purity, innocence, sinlessness—all attributes of Christ, the very qualities that enabled him “to be our sweet Savior.”
Third Verse
The holly bears a berry
As red as any blood;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to do us sinners good.
Again, the verse gives just the merest suggestion that there is a link between the blood-red holly berry and the work of Christ. Without stating the connection explicitly, the word “blood” causes us to picture the crucifixion, and perhaps also the Lord’s Supper—the once-and-for-all event and the recurring reminder of when Christ did “us sinners good.” Remarkably, all of this is hypertextual; the Christian mind will naturally connect the dots, but the text does not connect them for us.
Fourth Verse
The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas Day in the morn.
By now we know that the sharp prickles of the holly should suggest something about the crucifixion to us: the crown of thorns, the nails, the spear, and all the agony of Jesus’ death. Whereas the previous verses established the truth that Christ has come to save sinners—the “why” of his birth—this verse puts the event in time and space: “on Christmas Day in the morn.”
I find this verse the most poignant and heartstopping. The thorn stands as a terrible, ominous reminder of what will happen to the sweet blameless baby born on Christmas morning. We're hearing about his birth—more concretely in this verse than in any other—but we're already thinking about his death.
Fifth Verse
The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.
The image of the crucifixion recurs in the final verse, this time as a taste. We think of Christ asking for “this cup” to pass from him, the bitter wine he was offered on the cross, and the metaphorical bitterness of his unjust death. But the final line reminds us that we are the beneficiaries of his sacrifice; he has drunk the bitter cup and given us his sweet self in its stead.
It may be worth noting here that the line “And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ” acts as a sort of refrain of its own, repeated as the third line in all the verses except the first. What might appear a throwaway descriptor of Christ as “sweet” takes on an unexpected poignance in light of the final verse with its focus on bitterness and gall.
Burden
Now that we've looked at all the verses, a few words about the burden (the technical term for the refrain of the carol, repeated after every verse).
The rising of the sun
And the running of the deer
The playing of the merry organ
Sweet singing in the choir
The burden appears to follow the verses as something of a non sequitur. Why are we talking about suns, deer, organs, and choirs all of a sudden, when the stated topic was holly and Christ? But actually, this isn’t a change of topic at all. The two halves of the burden take us from forest (sunrise, deer) to church (organ, choir) in a progression that echoes the movement of the verses, which always begin with botany and end with theology. This back-and-forth between natural world and spiritual world occurs nine times in the carol and suggests a profound—though unstated—link between the two.
I hear in the burden of the carol this bold and intriguing claim: you simply can’t be in the forest for long without your thoughts taking a theological turn; and you simply can’t be in God’s house for long without your thoughts turning to God’s world.
Conclusion
In summary, I would contend that “The Holly & the Ivy” is worth singing, listening to, and meditating upon because it does something different from any other Christmas song. It offers a sparse, miniature story of redemption, exquisitely painted in just a few brushstrokes with a lot of negative space arising from implication rather than explicit statement. (In this way, the carol works similarly to the tradition of Haiku or early 20th-century Imagist poetry: images are offered, but the connections between them are not stated explicitly. Instead, these types of poetry invite the reader to discern the connection between the images.)
The carol is particularly suitable for children because of the clear and tangible images it presents—but it also repays maturer thought because of how those images become symbols that ripen into theological truths as we ponder them. Closer examination yields rich insights that are neither purely poetic nor purely theological but arise from the intersection of poetry and theology.
To make a good thing even better, the musical setting of “The Holly & the Ivy” seems to me to perfectly echo the poetic minimalism of the text. I’ve linked two beautiful renditions of the song below, hoping that, if you listen, you might find the song richer than before.
May you, dear reader, rejoice in the birth and redemption of our sweet Jesus Christ—this day, tomorrow, and always!