White Christmas

(The following essay is a re-post from Growing Up Under Southern Apartheid)

White Christmas

In east-central Alabama, we typically don’t get a white Christmas, at least not like the one Bing Crosby sang about. When I was a kid, I looked at many a picture book with snow-laden Christmas scenes and saw Christmas cards come in through the mail that featured snow-covered villages. In the South, we could wish for snow, but we were more likely to get rain. Snow might come later (if only for a day) but never as early as Christmas.

As children, even without the snow, we began to feel the anticipation of the holiday as the time drew near. Adults would start it. They’d say, “What’s Santy Claus gonna bring ya?” or “Have you been a good little boy this year? Well, mind your Mama ‘cause Santa’s comin’.”

Sights and Sounds of Christmas

One of the things that really set the stage for the holiday was putting up the Christmas tree. In rural Alabama back in the 1950s, most folks cut their own trees. Cedars grew wild in the pastures and farmland in the area. I remember going with Dad one year to look for a tree. We went to a farm owned by an older man who let us walk through the pasture to find the one we wanted. I remember Dad stopping back by the old man’s house to pay him, but the farmer just waved him off and wouldn’t hear of it. It was probably because my Dad was the preacher in town. In those days, churches paid their preachers a meager salary but people tried to make up for it in other ways. Someone might have a good day fishing on the river with too many fish to clean, and he’d take the preacher enough to feed his family. Someone else would have some corn or beans coming in and would take a mess of vegetables to the preacher’s house. Many merchants in town offered discounts for clergy.

At our house, by the time the Christmas tree went up, we had Christmas records playing. We had a little record player that played 45 and 78 RPMs and we’d delight in hearing “Up on the Housetop,” “Jingle Bells,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” and the like. Of course, in Sunday School we would sing “Silent Night,” “Away in a Manger,” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” 

And then there were the Christmas stories.  Dad would thrill us in reading Clement Moore's poem, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. On Christmas Eve, Mom would read Why the Chimes Rang, by Raymond MacDonald Alden to set a solemn yet magical tone for the holiday. Our excitement could hardly be tamped down because the next morning would be filled with drifts of wadded wrapping paper, stockings filled with candy, and the unmistakable Christmas aroma of new plastic from all of the toys gathered under the tree.

 Santa Comes to Town

We lived in Wedowee, Alabama from 1955 to 1960, so that makes it easy for me to place a relative time period on my early childhood memories since I was only a year old when we first arrived. I suppose in those days every community had its own way of marking the beginning of the Christmas season.  In Dadeville, Alabama, where I began the sixth grade, the local Girl Scouts sang carols on the courthouse steps on a Saturday afternoon as the town turned on the Christmas lights for the first time on Main Street.

In the small town of Wedowee, the county seat of Randolph County, the Christmas season was heralded by Santa riding into town on the back of a red fire engine. Children would gather at the town square in glad anticipation. Sure, New York City had the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with Santa and his sleigh as the grand finale, but we ushered jolly old St. Nicholas into town in grand style!

1955 GMC Pumper 

I remember when Dad took my brother and me to join the crowd of kids waiting to see Santa come to town. At the appointed time, we heard the siren wailing in the distance. Soon the fire truck appeared, driving through the town, Santa standing on the back and waving to the crowd. When the fire truck stopped, Santa began handing out bags of candy to all the eager children.

Christmas in the South was as segregated as all the other community activities, but there must have been some allowances in Wedowee for Santa’s visit. That day when we went to see Santa ride into town, it was an event for all children, both Black and white. It made such an impression upon me as a child that one particular image stands out in my memory to this day.  As I made my way up to see Santa who was handing out the candy to all the children, I saw a little Black girl walk up to get some candy. She was younger than I – I would have been around five, so she must have been around three years old. She had on a blue dress and pink bows tied up in her hair. The little girl walked slowly up to Santa at her mother’s encouragement, and what did Santa do?  He bent down and picked her up in his arms!  He then walked around, continuing to wave at the kids, carrying the little girl in his arms.


Of course, we knew this was not the real Santa. It was clear that he was a man in a costume. I have no idea who Santa was that day, but I never forgot the way that he carried the little Black girl in his arms. I was not accustomed to seeing Black children because Black people and white people lived separate lives and the children went to separate schools. While the little Black girl did not fit into all of the Christmas images and songs that I had in my head at that young age, that day a new image of Christmas was added to my memory. Throughout my childhood, though we never had snow, all of my Christmases were white, except for that one day.

________________________

Photo credit:

• Vintage 1950s Christmas card was found on Pinterest
• "Unmanaged eastern red cedars" photo from Wildlife, a publication of The Samuel Roberts Noble Foundation.
• The record player and fire truck images were both found on Pinterest with no credit attributed.

For an index to other essays in Growing Up Under Southern Apartheid, go here.

-

White Christmas

(From Growing Up Under Southern Apartheid)

White Christmas

In east-central Alabama, we typically don’t get a white Christmas, at least not like the one Bing Crosby sang about. When I was a kid, I looked at many a picture book with snow-laden Christmas scenes and saw Christmas cards come in through the mail that featured snow-covered villages. In the South, we could wish for snow, but we were more likely to get rain. Snow might come later (if only for a day) but never as early as Christmas.

As children, even without the snow we began to feel the anticipation of the holiday as the time drew near. Adults would start it. They’d say, “What’s Santy Claus gonna bring ya?” or “Have you been a good little boy this year? Well mind your Mama ‘cause Santa’s comin’.”

Sights and Sounds of Christmas

One of the things that really set the stage for the holiday was putting up the Christmas tree. In rural Alabama back in the 1950s, most folks cut their own trees. Cedars grew wild in the pastures and farmland in the area. I remember going with Dad one year to look for a tree. We went to a farm owned by an older man who let us walk through the pasture to find the one we wanted. I remember Dad stopping back by the old man’s house to pay him, but the farmer just waved him off and wouldn’t hear of it. It was probably because my Dad was the preacher in town. In those days, churches paid their preachers a meager salary but people tried to make up for it in other ways. Someone might have a good day fishing on the river with too many fish to clean, and he’d take the preacher enough to feed his family. Someone else would have some corn or beans coming in and would take a mess of vegetables to the preacher’s house. Many merchants in town offered discounts for clergy.

At our house, by the time the Christmas tree went up, we had Christmas records playing. We had a little record player that played 45 and 78 RPMs and we’d delight in hearing “Up on the Housetop,” “Jingle Bells,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” and the like. Of course, in Sunday School we would sing “Silent Night,” “Away in a Manger,” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” 

And then there were the Christmas stories.  Dad would thrill us in reading Clement Moore's poem, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. On Christmas Eve, Mom would read Why the Chimes Rang, by Raymond MacDonald Alden to set a solemn yet magical tone for the holiday. Our excitement could hardly be tamped down because the next morning would be filled with drifts of wadded wrapping paper, stockings filled with candy, and the unmistakable Christmas aroma of new plastic from all of the toys gathered under the tree.

 Santa Comes to Town

We lived in Wedowee, Alabama from 1955 to 1960, so that makes it easy for me to place a relative time period on my early childhood memories since I was only a year old when we first arrived. I suppose in those days every community had its own way of marking the beginning of the Christmas season.  In Dadeville, Alabama, where I began the sixth grade, the local Girl Scouts sang carols on the courthouse steps on a Saturday afternoon as the town turned on the Christmas lights for the first time on Main Street.

In the small town of Wedowee, the county seat of Randolph County, the Christmas season was heralded by Santa riding into town on the back of a red fire engine. Children would gather at the town square in glad anticipation. Sure, New York City had the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with Santa and his sleigh as the grand finale, but we ushered jolly old St. Nicholas into town in grand style!

1955 GMC Pumper 

I remember when Dad took my brother and me to join the crowd of kids waiting to see Santa come to town. At the appointed time, we heard the siren wailing in the distance. Soon the fire truck appeared, driving through the town, Santa standing on the back and waving to the crowd. When the fire truck stopped, Santa began handing out bags of candy to all the eager children.

Christmas in the South was as segregated as all the other community activities, but there must have been some allowances in Wedowee for Santa’s visit. That day when we went to see Santa ride into town, it was an event for all children, both Black and white. It made such an impression upon me as a child that one particular image stands out in my memory to this day.  As I made my way up to see Santa who was handing out the candy to all the children, I saw a little Black girl walk up to get some candy. She was younger than I – I would have been around five, so she must have been around three years old. She had on a blue dress and pink bows tied up in her hair. The little girl walked slowly up to Santa at her mother’s encouragement, and what did Santa do?  He bent down and picked her up in his arms!  He then walked around, continuing to wave at the kids, carrying the little girl in his arms.


Of course, we knew this was not the real Santa. It was clear that he was a man in a costume. I have no idea who Santa was that day, but I never forgot the way that he carried the little Black girl in his arms. I was not accustomed to seeing Black children because Black people and white people lived separate lives and the children went to separate schools. While the little Black girl did not fit into all of the Christmas images and songs that I had in my head at that young age, that day a new image of Christmas was added to my memory. Throughout my childhood, though we never had snow, all of my Christmases were white, except for that one day.

________________________

Photo credit:

• Vintage 1950s Christmas card was found on Pinterest
• "Unmanaged eastern red cedars" photo from Wildlife, a publication of The Samuel Roberts Noble Foundation.
• The record player and fire truck images were both found on Pinterest with no credit attributed.

For an index to other essays in Growing Up Under Southern Apartheid, go here.

-

Growing Up under Southern Apartheid (Part 4)

White Christmas

In east-central Alabama, we typically don’t get a white Christmas, at least not like the one Bing Crosby sang about. When I was a kid, I looked at many a picture book with snow-laden Christmas scenes and saw Christmas cards come in through the mail that featured snow-covered villages. In the South, we could wish for snow, but we were more likely to get rain. Snow might come later (if only for a day) but never as early as Christmas.

As children, even without the snow we began to feel the anticipation of the holiday as the time drew near. Adults would start it. They’d say, “What’s Santy Claus gonna bring ya?” or “Have you been a good little boy this year? Well mind your Mama ‘cause Santa’s comin’.”

Sights and Sounds of Christmas

One of the things that really set the stage for the holiday was putting up the Christmas tree. In rural Alabama back in the 1950s, most folks cut their own trees. Cedars grew wild in the pastures and farmland in the area. I remember going with Dad one year to look for a tree. We went to a farm owned by an older man who let us walk through the pasture to find the one we wanted. I remember Dad stopping back by the old man’s house to pay him, but the farmer just waved him off and wouldn’t hear of it. It was probably because my Dad was the preacher in town. In those days, churches paid their preachers a meager salary but people tried to make up for it in other ways. Someone might have a good day fishing on the river with too many fish to clean, and he’d take the preacher enough to feed his family. Someone else would have some corn or beans coming in and would take a mess of vegetables to the preacher’s house. Many merchants in town offered discounts for clergy.

At our house, by the time the Christmas tree went up, we had Christmas records playing. We had a little record player that played 45 and 78 RPMs and we’d delight in hearing “Up on the Housetop,” “Jingle Bells,” “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” and the like. Of course, in Sunday School we would sing “Silent Night,” “Away in a Manger,” and “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” 

And then there were the Christmas stories.  Dad would thrill us in reading Clement Moore's poem, ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. On Christmas Eve, Mom would read Why the Chimes Rang, by Raymond MacDonald Alden to set a solemn yet magical tone for the holiday. Our excitement could hardly be tamped down because the next morning would be filled with drifts of wadded wrapping paper, stockings filled with candy, and the unmistakable Christmas aroma of new plastic from all of the toys gathered under the tree.

 Santa Comes to Town

We lived in Wedowee, Alabama from 1955 to 1960, so that makes it easy for me to place a relative time period on my early childhood memories since I was only a year old when we first arrived. I suppose in those days every community had its own way of marking the beginning of the Christmas season.  In Dadeville, Alabama, where I began the sixth grade, the local Girl Scouts sang carols on the courthouse steps on a Saturday afternoon as the town turned on the Christmas lights for the first time on Main Street.

In the small town of Wedowee, the county seat of Randolph County, the Christmas season was heralded by Santa riding into town on the back of a red fire engine. Children would gather at the town square in glad anticipation. Sure, New York City had the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with Santa and his sleigh as the grand finale, but we ushered jolly old St. Nicholas into town in grand style!

1955 GMC Pumper 

I remember when Dad took my brother and me to join the crowd of kids waiting to see Santa come to town. At the appointed time, we heard the siren wailing in the distance. Soon the fire truck appeared, driving through the town, Santa standing on the back and waving to the crowd. When the fire truck stopped, Santa began handing out bags of candy to all the eager children.

Christmas in the South was as segregated as all the other community activities, but there must have been some allowances in Wedowee for Santa’s visit. That day when we went to see Santa ride into town, it was an event for all children, both Black and white. It made such an impression upon me as a child that one particular image stands out in my memory to this day.  As I made my way up to see Santa who was handing out the candy to all the children, I saw a little Black girl walk up to get some candy. She was younger than I – I would have been around five, so she must have been around three years old. She had on a blue dress and pink bows tied up in her hair. The little girl walked slowly up to Santa at her mother’s encouragement, and what did Santa do?  He bent down and picked her up in his arms!  He then walked around, continuing to wave at the kids, carrying the little girl in his arms.


Of course, we knew this was not the real Santa. It was clear that he was a man in a costume. I have no idea who Santa was that day, but I never forgot the way that he carried the little Black girl in his arms. I was not accustomed to seeing Black children because Black people and white people lived separate lives and the children went to separate schools. While the little Black girl did not fit into all of the Christmas images and songs that I had in my head at that young age, that day a new image of Christmas was added to my memory. Throughout my childhood, though we never had snow, all of my Christmases were white, except for that one day.

________________________

Photo credit:

• Vintage 1950s Christmas card was found on Pinterest
• "Unmanaged eastern red cedars" photo from Wildlife, a publication of The Samuel Roberts Noble Foundation.
• The record player and fire truck images were both found on Pinterest with no credit attributed.

< Part 3, A Matter of Complexion                                  Part 5, From Town to Country > 

-

Saturday Haiku: Christmas Journey

Mary and Joseph

journeyed from that quiet town

into all the world

___________________

Image: Mary and Joseph on the way to Bethlehem
Found at Ignatian Spirituality.com



-

Christmas Greetings

_________________________
Photo by Rachael Callahan @objectivityrach
A view from Railroad Park of Downtown Birmingham at Christmas time


-

Friday Funnies: Christmas Stamp - It's All about Perspective

-

Christmas Greetings from Birmingham

_________________________
Photo by Rachael Callahan @objectivityrach
A view from Railroad Park of Downtown Birmingham at Christmas time



-

Finding Christmas

I enjoy the Christmas season and when I discovered the liturgical season of Advent as an adult, that sacred time of waiting gave the season even more meaning for me. At the same time, I realize that there are many who have difficulty participating in the festive season. Some have painful memories from the past; some have been hardened by life and cannot make their way back to hope. Others have either lost faith, were nurtured in a different faith, or were raised without a strong faith tradition.

My hope is that everyone can find reason to celebrate the season and that we all can have hope for the days ahead. The following essay is one that was first posted in December of 2010. It was first written and presented at the request of Rev. Karen Matteson, a Unitarian Minister. She wanted me to take part in a Sunday morning service in preparation for Christmas. Many in that Unitarian congregation felt that it was very important to have a big Christmas Eve celebration. Others had a problem with Christmas because they came from different backgrounds, and most had a problem with affirming the divinity of Christ. The minister wanted to have a service to help bring everyone in to the celebration of the season while acknowledging the different places that many were coming from. "Finding Christmas" was my contribution to that service which I was honored to take part in.

   Finding Christmas: A Post-modern Christian Revisits an Ancient Holiday

by Charles Kinnaird

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me 

                                            there lay an invincible summer."

                                                   ~Albert Camus

In the Jesus story, the Gospel writer at one point has the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, asking the question, "What am I to do with Jesus?" It is fascinating to me that from that time until this, most of us in Western Civilization have had to ask that very question and in some way respond to the question. When I was in high school, there were two Broadway musicals, Godspell, and Jesus Christ, Superstar, that represented one way that my generation was responding to the question of what to do with Jesus. Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel, Handel's Messiah, Zulu Zionism in South Africa, Base Communities in Latin America, and the Jesus Seminar in Santa Rosa, CA, represent a few of the many varied responses to the same question.

In my own journey, I am always re-evaluating and redefining. I took a computer course once where we were working with spreadsheets. I loved the visual effect of having the spreadsheet all laid out, then typing in another number and watching the whole screen change in response to the new data. A living philosophy has to be that way. When we are confronted with new information or new experiences, our perspective will change in some way. There may even be a shift in our world view.

The Risk of Incarnation

A few years ago, I was attending a Eucharistic service at an Episcopal Church (some traditions refer to it as Mass, or Holy Communion). It was at a time when I was re-assessing what the Christian myth meant to me, given my world view. It occurred to me that however the person of Jesus fits (or does not fit) into one's theology, the Jesus Story dramatically illustrates the risk of incarnation. It was an emotional moment and I immediately connected with that notion because I knew first-hand the risk of incarnation.

In my work as a registered nurse, I often have to ask patients to sign a consent form for the surgeon to operate. I always ask the patient "Has the doctor explained to you the risks and the benefits of this procedure?" If the patient answers affirmatively, then I know that he or she is ready to sign the consent form. That day during the Eucharist, I knew that as I drank from the cup, I was affirming my own participation in the risk of incarnation. Knowing the beauty of being alive, I was also fully aware of the risk.

Celebrating the Light

Christmas is about light and life. It is a celebration in the middle of winter that the light will come and the darkness will end. It is a celebration of the promise of new life beginning. We call it Christmas, a time when Christians celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus as the incarnation of God and a light to the world.

The celebration existed, however, long before the Christians took it over. Winter Solstice had long been a time to celebrate the dawn on the darkness of winter. It was a time to extol the evergreen that proclaimed the promise of life in the dead of winter.

Christmas for us can be a time to celebrate the joy and beauty of incarnation as we know it. If we have lived long enough, we understand the risk, but we also know from our collective experience that the darkness will end. We sense the persistent hope of new life. We know that life on this planet is worth the risk. We can use the Christmas season to acknowledge our own participation in the incarnation of Life.

Our light has come.

Our day has dawned.

We can joyfully celebrate

Life is up to something,

    and we are included!

Life is full of surprises,

    and we are a part of it!

-

Celebrating Christmas

[From my archives: this essay was first posted in 2014]

Celebrate the season with whatever joy, hope, and light you have

For the past few years, some folks around where I live have taken up the slogan, "Put Christ back into Christmas." Perhaps they are urging people to move away from the hectic consumer-driven buying frenzy and discover a more spiritual celebration of the holiday. I have had the sense, though, that some are saying, this is a Christian holiday, it is our holiday, so you need to celebrate it our way. Last year, I came up with a snarky comeback: "Let's put the Mass back into Christmas." Since I was a former evangelical Christian who had discovered the ancient liturgy of the Catholic Church, I could "one-up" those conservative Christians when it came to getting back to the "reason for the season."

While part of my Christmas celebration will be to attend Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve (for the "Christ Mass"), Christmas has actually spilled out into the world, creating many ways to celebrate the light that comes to us even during the darkest time of the year. Before it was a "Christian holiday season," Winter Solstice was the oldest celebration in human history, some say going back 30,000 years to a time when people built bonfires to encourage the sun not to go away completely and to exercise the sure and certain hope that days of light and warmth were coming. Christmas has become that time when we can all celebrate the coming of the light to our lives and an end to our darkened days. A friend of mine shared a Christmas sermon by Rev. W. Leslie Pugh from Midland, Texas. Pugh tells why Christmas is important to him even though he can no longer literally believe the stories from the Bible. One thing he said was that "Christmas notions about the infusion of the divine into human dwellings -- a holy baby born in a manger -- happen often."

So celebrate the season however you wish, with whatever joy, hope and light that you have, in whatever way is meaningful to you. Take time to recognize the light in your life. Spend some time rejoicing that the story of the divine infusing our human dwellings is indeed true, and that such infusions of the divine happen often in our lives. Take this moment to be aware of the divine presence that not only "dwelt among us," but is still with us today.



-

Gingerbread Christmas

I haven’t done this in a while, but when my daughter was young, it was fun to use this gingerbread recipe I found in my Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. I used the recipe for Gingerbread People. This makes a very pliable, workable dough. After you cut out whatever shapes you want, you can roll the scraps together and cut out more. We have used this dough to make lots of little gingerbread men, stars and other shapes, and also to make a gingerbread house (pictured above).

To make the house, I had found a book in the library that contained patternes that I traced onto paper and usd those patterns to cut the shapes out of the dough. We still had to trim it a bit when the bread came out of the oven to make them all fit together. Icing sugar was used as the "mortar" to hold the house together.

GINGERBREAD PEOPLE

1 ½ cups dark molasses

1 cup packed brown sugar

2/3 cup cold water

1/3 cup shortening

7 cups all-purpose flour*

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground allspice

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground cloves

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Mix molasses, brown sugar, water and shortening.

Mix in remaining ingredients except frosting.

Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours.

Heat oven to 350°. Roll dough ¼ inch thick on

floured board. Cut with floured gingerbread cutter

or other favorite shaped cutter. Place about 2 inches

apart on lightly greased cookie sheet. Bake until no

indentation remains when touched, 10 to 12 minutes;

cool. Decorate with Decorators' Frosting (I just buy the ready-made stuff in a tube).

ABOUT 2 ½ DOZEN 2½ INCH COOKIES.

*If using self-rising flour, omit baking soda and salt.

Gingerbread Cookies:

Decrease flour to 6 cups.

Roll dough ½ inch thick and cut with floured 2½

inch round cutter. Place about 1½ inches apart

on lightly greased cookie sheet. Bake about 15

minutes.

-

Christmastide: "For Unto Us a Child is Born"

On the eight day of Christmas, "For Unto Us a Child is Born," by George Frideric Handel who chose his text from Isaiah 9: 6,7. It is a selection from Handel's Messiah, performed by the Winchester Cathedral choir.

-

Monday Music: O Thou that Tellest Good Tidings to Zion

By the liturgical calendar, Christmastide began with the Vigil Mass on Christmas Eve and will continue until Epiphany (January 6). In other words, although Christmas Day was yesterday, it is still Christmas, which means we have a little more time for Christmas music.

My friend, Mark Biddle, has been sharing "12 Days of Christmas" musical selections from his talented family on his blog, Mostly on the Bible (he's a seminary prof). I wanted to share this lovely performance by his daughter, Ellen Broen, singing "O Thou that Tellest Good Tidings to Zion" (from Handel's Messiah). Check out his blog site, though, not only for the Twelve Days of Christmas music, but also for the theological commentary he shares on living our faith values.

-

Finding Christmas

I enjoy the Christmas season and when I discovered the liturgical season of Advent as an adult, that sacred time of waiting gave the season even more meaning for me. At the same time, I realize that there are many who have difficulty participating in the festive season. Some have painful memories from the past; some have been hardened by life and cannot make their way back to hope. Others have either lost faith, were nurtured in a different faith, or were raised without a strong faith tradition.

My hope is that everyone can find reason to celebrate the season and that we all can have hope for the days ahead. The following essay is one that was first posted in December of 2010. It was first written and presented at the request of Rev. Karen Matteson, a Unitarian Minister. She wanted me to take part in a Sunday morning service in preparation for Christmas. Many in that Unitarian congregation felt that it was very important to have a big Christmas Eve celebration. Others had a problem with Christmas because they came from different backgrounds, and most had a problem with affirming the divinity of Christ. The minister wanted to have a service to help bring everyone in to the celebration of the season while acknowledging the different places that many were coming from. "Finding Christmas" was my contribution to that service which I was honored to take part in.

   Finding Christmas: A Post-modern Christian Revisits an Ancient Holiday

by Charles Kinnaird

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me 

                                            there lay an invincible summer."

                                                   ~Albert Camus

In the Jesus story, the Gospel writer at one point has the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, asking the question, "What am I to do with Jesus?" It is fascinating to me that from that time until this, most of us in Western Civilization have had to ask that very question and in some way respond to the question. When I was in high school, there were two Broadway musicals, Godspell, and Jesus Christ, Superstar, that represented one way that my generation was responding to the question of what to do with Jesus. Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel, Handel's Messiah, Zulu Zionism in South Africa, Base Communities in Latin America, and the Jesus Seminar in Santa Rosa, CA, represent a few of the many varied responses to the same question.

In my own journey, I am always re-evaluating and redefining. I took a computer course once where we were working with spreadsheets. I loved the visual effect of having the spreadsheet all laid out, then typing in another number and watching the whole screen change in response to the new data. A living philosophy has to be that way. When we are confronted with new information or new experiences, our perspective will change in some way. There may even be a shift in our world view.

The Risk of Incarnation

A few years ago, I was attending a Eucharistic service at an Episcopal Church (some traditions refer to it as Mass, or Holy Communion). It was at a time when I was re-assessing what the Christian myth meant to me, given my world view. It occurred to me that however the person of Jesus fits (or does not fit) into one's theology, the Jesus Story dramatically illustrates the risk of incarnation. It was an emotional moment and I immediately connected with that notion because I knew first-hand the risk of incarnation.

In my work as a registered nurse, I often have to ask patients to sign a consent form for the surgeon to operate. I always ask the patient "Has the doctor explained to you the risks and the benefits of this procedure?" If the patient answers affirmatively, then I know that he or she is ready to sign the consent form. That day during the Eucharist, I knew that as I drank from the cup, I was affirming my own participation in the risk of incarnation. Knowing the beauty of being alive, I was also fully aware of the risk.

Celebrating the Light

Christmas is about light and life. It is a celebration in the middle of winter that the light will come and the darkness will end. It is a celebration of the promise of new life beginning. We call it Christmas, a time when Christians celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus as the incarnation of God and a light to the world.

The celebration existed, however, long before the Christians took it over. Winter Solstice had long been a time to celebrate the dawn on the darkness of winter. It was a time to extol the evergreen that proclaimed the promise of life in the dead of winter.

Christmas for us can be a time to celebrate the joy and beauty of incarnation as we know it. If we have lived long enough, we understand the risk, but we also know from our collective experience that the darkness will end. We sense the persistent hope of new life. We know that life on this planet is worth the risk. We can use the Christmas season to acknowledge our own participation in the incarnation of Life.

Our light has come.

Our day has dawned.

We can joyfully celebrate

Life is up to something,

    and we are included!

Life is full of surprises,

    and we are a part of it!

-

Monday Music: Coventry Carol

Here is a carol that is appropriate for this day commemorating the Holy Innocents. While Mary bore in her body and held in her arms the hope for the world, the Prince of Peace, she lived with the reality of a world in which kings will slaughter innocents to stay in power. Women throughout the ages have lived with this sorrow. Every victim of the Empire's "collateral damage"has a mother who weeps.

From Wikipedia: The "Coventry Carol" is an English Christmas carol dating from the 16th century. The carol was traditionally performed in Coventry in England as part of a mystery play called The Pageant of the Shearmen and Tailors. The play depicts the Christmas story from chapter two in the Gospel of Matthew: the carol itself refers to the Massacre of the Innocents, in which Herod ordered all male infants under the age of two in Bethlehem to be killed, and takes the form of a lullaby sung by mothers of the doomed children. 

-

Taladh Chriosta (Lullaby of the Christ Child)

Taladh Chriosta (Lullaby of the Christ Child)

From Wikipedia:

Tàladh Chrìosda (Christ's lullaby) is the popular name for the Scottish Gaelic Christmas carol Tàladh ar Slànaigheir (the Lullaby of our Saviour). It is traditionally sung at Midnight Mass in the Outer Hebrides in Scotland. The 29 verses of the hymn date from the 19th century and are intended to represent a lullaby for the Christ Child by the Blessed Virgin. The words are recorded as being composed by Fr. Ranald Rankin of Fort William for the children of Moidart and were originally entitled Tàladh ar Slànuighear (the Lullaby of our Saviour) and sung to a tune called Cumha Mhic Àrois (the Lament for Mac Àrois). The song was popularised among English speakers in the early 20th century by Marjory Kennedy-Fraser under the title The Christ-Child's Lullaby.

-

Monday Music: Wexford Carol (Celtic Music)

One of my all-time favorites! The Wexford Carol is another traditional Irish carol. This one is instrumental, but I have posted choral version before as well as a wonderful rendition by Alison Krauss and Yo Yo Ma.

-

Monday Music: Galician Carol

The Galician Carol is a new discovery for me this year as I explore Celtic carols. This is instrumental, but there are lyrics. The song originates from the Galicia region of Spain. We often think of Celtic culture in association with Ireland, but the Celtic people actually inhabited regions on the continent, including Italy, Spain, France, Germany and Austria.. You may scroll down to read the English lyrics.

We’ll Speak Very Softly (Galician Carol)

We'll speak very softly, and lower our voices,

Before the sweet saviour, in whom heaven rejoices.

O, my beloved, could I but hold thee,

how great my joy, how great my joy,

how great thy blessing falling upon me!

My belov-ed, my heart's one delight,

my dear baby Jesus, how are you?

From the cold I see you shivering,  and it grieves me through and through:

From the cold I see you shivering, and it grieves me through and through

-

In the Bleak Midwinter

[This post is also being shared at The Music of the Spheres]

On this, the first Sunday of Christmastide, the fourth day of Christmas, listen to the beautiful carol sung by the Gloucester Cathedral Choir. "In the Bleak Midwinter" is a superb combination of the poetry of Christina Rossetti and the music of Gustav Holst. The video presentation is magnificent. Watch for the impromptu representation of "only his mother in her maiden bliss, worshiped the Beloved with a kiss."  

Celebrating Christmas

Celebrate the season with whatever joy, hope, and light you have

For the past few years, some folks around where I live have taken up the slogan, "Put Christ back into Christmas." Perhaps they are urging people to move away from the hectic consumer-driven buying frenzy and discover a more spiritual celebration of the holiday. I have had the sense, though, that some are saying, this is a Christian holiday, it is our holiday, so you need to celebrate it our way. Last year, I came up with a snarky comeback: "Let's put the Mass back into Christmas." Since I was a former evangelical Christian who had discovered the ancient liturgy of the Catholic Church, I could "one-up" those conservative Christians when it came to getting back to the "reason for the season."

While part of my Christmas celebration will be to attend Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve (for the "Christ Mass"), Christmas has actually spilled out into the world, creating many ways to celebrate the light that comes to us even during the darkest time of the year. Before it was a "Christian holiday season," Winter Solstice was the oldest celebration in human history, some say going back 30,000 years to a time when people built bonfires to encourage the sun not to go away completely and to exercise the sure and certain hope that days of light and warmth were coming. Christmas has become that time when we can all celebrate the coming of the light to our lives and an end to our darkened days. A friend of mine shared a Christmas sermon by Rev. W. Leslie Pugh from Midland, Texas. Pugh tells why Christmas is important to him even though he can no longer literally believe the stories from the Bible. One thing he said was that "Christmas notions about the infusion of the divine into human dwellings -- a holy baby born in a manger -- happen often."

So celebrate the season however you wish, with whatever joy, hope and light that you have, in whatever way is meaningful to you. Take time to recognize the light in your life. Spend some time rejoicing that the story of the divine infusing our human dwellings is indeed true, and that such infusions of the divine happen often in our lives. Take this moment to be aware of the divine presence that not only "dwelt among us," but is still with us today.


-

Monday Music: O Come, Emmanuel

The beautiful and ancient Advent hymn, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," first known in Latin as  "Veni, veni, Emmanuel" and translated into English in the mid-19th century, it has traditionally been sung on Sundays of Advent as we await the promise of Christmas. The text is based on Isaiah 7:14 that God will give his people a sign that will be called Immanuel, which means, "God with us."   This beautiful instrumental version features The Piano Guys on cello and piano.