Ode to Christmas

Lots of Beautiful Pastel Decorations from MARIETTA

As my friend Marv once said in one of the best odes to Christmas that I've ever read anywhere:

"Still, as always, I look forward to anything 'Christmas,' be it sacred or profane.

"Quite frankly, I love it all: commercial or spiritual, mall or church, crass or sublime, jaded or sentimental, slow or frantic, sad or comic, regretful or nostalgic, adult or childish, wrapping up or ripping open, giving or spartan, on-line or in line, pine or palm, white or tropical green, it just does not matter; it's all moving and wonderful, magical and grand (and I wish it lasted all year)."

Marv is also the one who introduced me to the concept of "Christmas Amnesty":

You can fall out of contact with friends, fail to return calls, ignore e-mails, avoid eye contact at the store, forget birthdays, anniversaries and reunions, and if you write during the holidays, they are socially bound to forgive you and act like nothing happened. Decorum dictates that the friendship move forward from that point, without guilt or recrimination. . . . Just say, "Sorry I haven't written. Merry Christmas."

. . . Amnesty protocol demands that your friend / relative say, "That's okay" and move on without comment. This is the way it has always been done. (see Chapter 8: "Holiday Heartbreak," 108 - 09)

from The Stupidist Angel:
A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror
a novel by Christopher Moore (b 1957, Ohio),
contemporary American writer of absurdist fiction
and comic fantasy

HERE'S SANTA!
"I understand it now,"
Mr. Dickens cried,
"Father Christmas
will never die"
("Shop of Ghosts,"
Chesterton).

The Girl Who Just Loved Christmas

Back in the mid - 70s, I read an unforgettable Christmas story called "The Girl Who Just Loved Christmas" about a romantic high school girl who is upset the first time that her older sister brings her fiance home for Christmas because some of the family customs, such as who gets to put the star on top of the tree, are about to change. Unfortunately, I can recall neither the source of this short story nor the author's name, only the title and the joy I felt at recognizing a kindred spirit in that "Girl Who Just Loved Christmas."

Every year at Christmastime, I long to read this old favorite once again! I have tried many library and internet searches but so far without any luck. Should I ever find a copy tucked inside my Christmas stocking, that will be one of the best presents ever!

Three Passions

Why do I just love Christmas? Previously I have relied on British philosopher Betrand Russell's "Three Passions" to answer that question; so briefly, I will repeat myself. A age 84, Russell, added a prologue entitled What I Have Lived For to his autobiography. He wrote:

Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a great ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.

I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy . . . because it relieves loneliness . . . because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of heaven that saints and poets have imagined. . . .

With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men . . . to know why the stars shine . . . to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.

Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth . . . the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate this evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.

This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me. ~ Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970)

Okay, here are mine, governed by these words of hope:

"For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a woman, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."
~ 1 Corinthians 13: 9 - 13 (King James Version)
First is the hopeless one -- trying to create order out of chaos. I will never give up this losing battle! It has governed my child rearing, my housekeeping, my quest for information, my struggle against urban decay in West Philadelphia and neighborhood blight in West Lafayette, my hope for the afterlife that one day we really shall "know as we are known," that the whole confusing scheme of life will fall into place. One day my partial (i.e.,"imperfect") knowledge of this chaotic puzzling universe shall be made whole (i.e., "perfected") and that will be the reward of a passionate existence.

Second -- sometimes known as the I'm talking and I can't shut up syndrome! -- is participating in "The Great Conversation," contributing to the "Dialogue of Ideas." This passion governs my friendships, my correspondence, my teaching, my blogs, my understanding of history, my love of literature and movies -- and talking about them after I read / see them. It informs my quest for truth and beauty, my pursuit of knowledge. "Faith, Hope, and Love" have long been the popular favorites, but it is the "Knowledge" part that has always appealed to me.

My third and favorite passion is Christmas, the most comprehensive celebration of all celebrations! Every year, we hear the complaints about the relentless commercialization, the laments that Christmas is no longer a religious holiday but has become a religion in and of itself. Well, if you ask me, that's The Good News; that's something I can believe in!

As is so often the case, the third passion really draws on the best of the other two. I love reading about all of the old traditions -- even the ones that we don't specifically incorporate into our own 21st Century observances. Surely some of the best contributions to the Great Conversation were made on behalf of Christmas; and surely the light shining out of darkness symbolizes our best hope for order out of chaos. If there is ever a time when we are inclined to treat each other well, to acknowledge each other's humanity, surely it is Christmas. The embodiment of spirituality, the first principle on which all other passions are based -- that's Christmas!

Every Christmas, I look forward to watching Miracle on 34th Street and hearing skeptical little Susan / Natalie Wood mutter under her breath, "I believe, I believe, I know it's silly but I believe!" I've said the same thing myself a few times (and not just about Kris Kringle).

More than merely a childish sing-song, Susan's mantra offers the same perspective of near-belief as the half-doubting, faintly hoping father in the New Testament who cries out: "I believe. Help thou mine unbelief." Those who are fans of John Irving's novel, A Prayer for Owen Meany, will recognize this verse from Owen's funeral. Pastor Merrill reads aloud the entire passage (Mark 9:14-24), concluding in his grief: "Owen Meany helped my 'unbelief'" (566).

Believing in the face of your own unbelief, believing when it seems silly. I think I can believe in both of those things. And I can believe in Christmas!

As Kermit The Frog and John Denver sing on one of the best Christmas CDs ever, John Denver & The Muppets: A Christmas Together, 1979:

I don't know if you believe in Christmas
Or if you have presents underneath the Christmas tree
But if you believe in love, that will be more than enough
For you to come and celebrate with me . . .

For the truth that binds us all together
I would like to say a simple prayer
That at this special time you will have true peace of mind
And love to last throughout the coming year . . .

From “The Christmas Wish"
Music and lyrics by Dan Wheetman

A few other things that I can believe in:

Puttering as a Spiritual Practice (see Anne Lamott, Plan B, 149)
The Miracle of Oxygen
The Precession of the Equinoxes
The Lifelong Quest for Truth & Beauty
The Pursuit of Knowledge
The Great Conversation
The Origin and Destiny of Cats

I believe . . . I think I am; therefore, I think I am . . .

The Precious Firstlings

Vintage Card
“Christmas Cards from the Cremers” is a brief chapter from the book A Nursery in the Nineties, the autobiography of Eleanor Farjeon, who also wrote the lyrics to “Morning Has Broken,” way back before Cat Stevens made them famous, and the clever little poem “Cats Sleep Anywhere,” which has been illustrated as a children's book many times. Recalling the Christmas presents that she and her brothers received as children, Farjeon writes:

"Among our benefactors were . . . the Cremers. . . .

Mr. Cremer kept the best toy-shop in Regent Street. There had been a Mrs. Cremer; there were two Miss Cremers. As long as old Mr. Cremer continued in life, Christmas brought us cases full of the most fascinating toys. . . .

When Mr. Cremer died, the two Miss Cremers went to live in the Isle of Thanet [the name for the area just north of Dover, not really an island, and not very far at all from London]. At Christmas now "The Cremers" meant cards only. But they were always the first Christmas cards we received--dear little robins perched on babies' cradles, dear little girls in bonnets, with bunches of holly, "To dear little Harry, dear little Nellie [this was Eleanor], dear little Joe, dear little Bertie--with love from the Misses Cremer." They came like heralds, early in December, when Christmas was three endless weeks away. Mother's voice calling: "The Cremers' Cards have come!" brought us running. We looked, and knew that Christmas was coming too.

But posts are so uncertain, and Thanet and London not quite next door, you know, and it would be dreadful to a pair of fond, remembering spinsters should their cards ever arrive a trifle late. To make quite sure, they began to despatch their Christmas cards in November.

"Children! the Cremers' Christmas cards!"

"Already?"

Christmas is not yet due for a full month. We run to collect the precious firstlings (emphasis added).

And years pass, you grow older, the things to be done, the occasions to prepare for, press a little more irksomely each year on ladies who, if they cannot still send cases of toys to little Harry, Nellie, Joe, and Bertie, must never disappoint dear children of their Christmas Greetings.

"The Cremers' cards!" calls Mama, somewhere about Guy Fawkes' Day [November 5th].

We return, one September, from the summer holiday. The golden weeks beside the sea have waned, but London streets are sunny, it is weeks yet to the time of fog, and fires.

Laughing too much to speak, she appears waving the envelope. "No!" exclaims Harry. But there they are, the Cremers' cards have come. "To dear little Harry, dear little Nellie, dear little Joe and dear little Bertie." The robins, and the little girls in bonnets.

Two of us at least are over twenty, and tomorrow it will be October the First (emphasis added).

That was the last of the Cremers' Christmas cards. Then time went back on them" (313 - 17).


Time went back on them. Sigh. One day, it will happen. . . .

The First of Many Things

First Day of December, First Day of Hanukkah, First Snowfall
In 2010, they all occurred on one beautiful winter's day!
I have long been curious about all of Jostein Gaarder's titles (e.g., Sophie's World) but The Christmas Mystery is the only one I've read so far. Gerry's mom placed it beside my bed when we went to England for Christmas 2002, so I read it to myself that year, and then the next year to Ben and Sam as a read-aloud for Advent 2003. The cover is brightly illustrated to resemble an Advent Calender, with miniature pictures of angels, castles, ships, sheep. Each chapter begins with a similar illustration, opening the door to another place and time. We followed along on a world map to track the fascinating progress of the characters, as each day they crossed another threshold, disappearing into world history. We learned so much on this intriguing journey and could hardly wait to see how the mystery would resolve itself on Christmas Eve.



As you can see from Ben's cut and paste Menorah project (1994), Hanukkah was a very popular holiday in the Philadelphia Public School System. Another year we carved a menorah onto the face of a nice wide pumpkin; I wish I had taken a picture of that!

"Light one candle
for the wisdom to know 
when the peacemaker's time is at hand."
~~ Peter, Paul & Mary ~~

My beautiful Dancer's Menorah
antique brass by David Klass

. . . last Month's Turkey - o - Lantern

and our first ever O Christmas Tree O Lantern

First Sunday of Advent

First Week of Advent: The Hope of Prophecy
For the last fifteen years or so, I have had a little tradition of making a set of cards for my mother, one for each of the four Sundays in Advent. Each year the design is different, with a new theme of some kind.

As my transitional ritual from Thanksgiving into Christmas, I always devote a few hours of the long weekend to getting the Advent cards ready and (hopefully) getting the first one in the mail in time for Sunday. Some years I fall a bit behind on that optimistic deadline; but as long as the first one arrives somewhere within the first week of the season, it's not hard to keep mailing the others out in a timely, weekly fashion.

This year, I had the idea to design them as Valentines, using red lace doilies, ribbons, and a handful of fancy little gift tags that I found on amazon, featuring sentiments that lend themselves nicely to the symbolism behind each candle on the Advent Wreath.

Week One, the Candle of Hope
Dispelling the Darkness:

We must never be afraid to go too far, for truth lies beyond."

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."

~ both passages by Marcel Proust ~

Second Sunday of Advent

Second Week of Advent: the Peace of Bethlehem
Each year, I hope for the peace and presence of mind to celebrate a true Advent, always searching for that calm at the center of the holiday storm. Yet, despite my best intentions, my guest room is currently a disaster area of half-begun Christmas projects! When will they ever be finished? Help! Well, at least Christmas music is playing in the background as I write these frantic words!

As my friend Cate, a charming gardener of the soul, wrote in this morning's e-mail: "Second Sunday already? Eeek! Must do, must do . . . Hope to finish the tree today (or close to it)."

We all know in our hearts that these should not be the watch words of the day; yet it seems so: Must do, must do . . .

Instead, how about: Let us find peace . . .

Week Two, the Candle of Peace
Leading the Way:

"We shall find peace. We shall hear the angels,
we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds."
~Anton Chekhov~

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy;
they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."
~Marcel Proust~