I’m always a bit embarrassed to admit that I’m a late bloomer when it comes to “Fairytale of New York,” the Pogues’ iconic Christmas ballad. The first time I heard it was in a video of front man Shane MacGowan’s funeral in December 2023. In a packed Catholic church in Ireland, people wept and sang and danced in the aisles. I immediately knew that I was encountering something sacred.
“Fairytale of New York” itself is no kin to the cheerful Christmas songs that take over American radio waves every winter; it’s something altogether more rough, raw and real. The lyrics tell the story of two hopeful young Irish immigrants whose lives do not measure up to their starry-eyed dreams. This much is clear from the first line: “It was Christmas Eve in the drunk tank.” The bulk of the song is an argument between the couple after they’ve aged, trying to determine who is to blame for the failure of their hopes. (There is some language to be aware of if you’re playing it around young ears, and one line that I’ll suggest you replace with my friend John’s elegant workaround, “You big bag of carrots.”)
Why pick this song, with Shane MacGowan’s voice as rough as sandpaper, for our joyful pilgrimage to Bethlehem? Well, because it tells the truth. We’re so accustomed to the story of the Nativity and to the December excitement of Christmas that we often forget that other emotions were present that night in the stable — and that there is room for them in our lives as well.
Giving birth in a barn in an unfamiliar city surely wasn’t on Mary’s bingo card, and welcoming a child of mysterious parentage probably wasn’t how Joseph imagined starting his marriage. The joy of Jesus’ birth was mingled, most likely, with confusion, with fear, with the sorrow of being in a place that made it clear to them that they didn’t belong. Maybe it’s not so dissimilar to the story of two Irish newcomers out in the biting New York wind and snow on Christmas Eve.
During Advent and Christmas, we remember the profound mystery of the Incarnation, God taking on human form and walking among us. That means our every experience, our every emotion, is something holy. Whether it’s in joyful celebration or in loss, in sorrow, or even in the drunk tank, Shane’s voice reminds us that the bells of Christmas ring out every year. Every year they remind us of our highest hopes, but also remind us that we’re not alone, even in our lowest lows. That’s encouragement enough for me.
