December 15, 2005

• Christmas Spirit

  The Spirit
  of
  Christmas
  

  
  I see that I’m not the only one concerned about the Christmas Spirit:

  
  

  
  Dec 11, 8:21 AM (ET)

   VATICAN CITY (Reuters) – Pope Benedict warned on Sunday
  against rampant materialism which he said was polluting the
  spirit of Christmas.

  “In today’s consumer society, this time of the year
  unfortunately suffers from a sort of commercial ‘pollution’
  that threatens to alter its real spirit,” the Pope told a large
  crowd gathered in St. Peter’s Square to hear his weekly Angelus
  blessing.

  He said Christmas should be marked with sober celebrations
  and urged Christians to display a nativity crib in their houses
  as “a simple but effective way of showing their faith and
  conveying it to their children.”

  Last year, under Pope John Paul, the Vatican launched a
  high-profile campaign to urge Roman Catholic Italy not to
  compromise the spirit of Christmas through excess or dilute its
  message out of fear of offending a growing Muslim population.
  

  
  
  

  I
  first heard of Christmas spirit from my mother.  To her, it was
  something she got into, or didn’t get into.  The same
  Christmastime at which I concluded that there is no Santa Claus (that
  story comes later in my 12 days), when I was about three years old, I
  recall her saying of the amplified carrillon playing carols in the
  streets of San Jose, and the decorations everywhere, that they really
  got her into the Christmas spirit.

  From what she said, the way she said it, and the ambience in which she
  said it, I inferred that Christmas spirit was joyous excitement,
  pleasure at standing in line waiting to sit on Santa’s lap, browsing in
  the lingerie and cosmetics departments, trying on clothes, spritzing
  odd assortments of sample perfumes behind our ears, sneezing, buying
  fudge from the candy counter in the big department store and eating it
  on the bus on the way home.

  
  After my father died on the
  first of December when I was seven years old, Mama would say every year
  that she just couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit anymore.   I easily got into the Christmas spirit with Mama during those first few
  years that I participated in her Christmas shopping.  I also fell
  into the December blues along with her after Daddy died.  As years
  passed, I gave up on Christmas spirit.  When it finally came back
  to me in the 1970s, Spirit had a CAPITAL ESS.

  I said it came back
  to me.  Properly, I suppose, I came back to it.  Spirit was
  always there, I just looked for it in the wrong places.  It has
  nothing to do with fudge or allergies to perfume, and very little to do
  with department store santas.

  In my life, the main difference between the Spirit of Christmas and
  my
  everyday attitude is that Christmas is accompanied by dark days, cold
  weather, special music, and bittersweet memories.  Christmas also brings extra challenges
  as I see others indulge in sweets and treats forbidden to me, but that has nothing to do with the Spirit.

  There is no more urge at this time of
  year than at any other, to give.   I give whatever I have to
  give, to whomever appears to need it, whenever I can.  Much of my
  giving is done right here on Xanga, through these blogs and the readings I do at
  KaiOaty’s site.  I am available 24/7 by phone to
  counsel, console, disillusion or admonish any drunk, dope fiend or
  other normal person in need.  If the rehab ranch ever decides to
  reinstate the van to the Thursday night NA meetings, I’ll be back there
  as a volunteer, driving it.  Given my state of physical health
  and dearth of material resources, it’s the best I can do.

  Not wanting to monopolize this
  piece on Christmas Spirit with my own ideas, I went to Google for other
  people’s take on the concept.  I found a profound and eloquent essay on Christmas
  and the Environment by Count von Staufer at The Christmas Archives, which says, in part:

  

  It is politically correct to denounce Christmas as a flagrant waste
  of resources. All those twinkling lights gobbling megawatts poured out
  by polluting power stations, the acres of forests pulped to make
  wrapping paper, the endless stream of petrochemicals used for plastic
  toys, and the sheer disposal problem of all that waste from discarded
  packages, empty bottles, dumped Christmas trees, and the exhaust fumes
  from all those families gathering for the season of goodwill; make
  depressing reading for anyone with green credentials.
  
  
  
  

  Take Christmas out of the picture, and one will be left with the
  destruction of the last major festival that links an urban living
  population to the cycle of the seasons, and a stake in the health of
  the countryside. Not so very long ago Christmas was the cusp of a year
  that revolved around the inevitable schedule of planting, nurturing,
  harvesting and restoration that marked the passing of the pastoral year.
  . . .
  

  Christmas must be a marker. It is the vestigial survivor of an
  earlier calendar. If it can be the backstop against which we may rest
  then start to mark once more the other major festivals such as Easter,
  then we may stand some chance of ensuring that every citizen has a
  natural feel for the passage of season, and be instinctively aware if
  that pattern is being pressured into change by the effects of economic
  activity.

  We can sound environmental alarms as often as we like. We will get
  fifteen minutes of undivided attention if we are lucky, but until each
  person feels the change of the year in their bones and has an
  instinctive feel for the season, he or she will not comprehend in the
  depths of their being, the need for conservation of the countryside and
  the environment. Every Western society has recognised the need for
  “stakeholders” in their population.  Those stakeholders aren’t just
  economic pawns, they are people who have the ability to interact with
  others, to appreciate that gifts aren’t always wrapped, that goodwill does not
  mean a drunken office party, and to become part of the patchwork of life.
  
  

  
  

  Not, strictly speaking, a Christmas story, I feel that the Legend of the Four Candles
  is appropriate to the season.  This is another of the wonderful
  works attributed to “Anonymous,” one of the world’s best and most
  prolific writers.
  
  
  
  
  Their ambience was so soft you could hear them speak….

  The first candle said, “I Am Peace, but these days, nobody wants to keep me lit.”

  Then Peace’s flame slowly diminished and went out completely.

  The second candle said, “I Am Faith, but these days, I am no longer
  indispensible.”  Then Faith’s flame slowly diminished and went
  dark.

  Sadly, the third candle spoke, “I Am Love and I haven’t the strength to
  stay lit any longer.  People put me aside and don’t understand my
  importance.  They even forget to love those who are nearest to
  them.”  And waiting no longer, Love went out completely.

  Suddenly…

  A child entered the room and saw the three candles no longer burning.

  The child began to cry, “Why are you not burning?  You are supposed to stay lit until the end.”

  Then the Fourth Candle spoke gently to the little one,
  

  “Don’t be afraid, for I Am Hope, and while I still burn, we can re-light all the other candles.”

  With shining eyes, the child took the Candle of Hope
  and lit the other three candles.
  
  
  

  Never let the Flame of Hope go out.
  
  
  

  With Hope in your life, no matter how bad things may be,
  
  
  

  Peace, Faith and Love may shine brightly once again.
  

  ————————-

  

  Last year, on this day in my Countdown to Christmas, I did some reminiscing about favorite Christmas sweets from my childhood.
  
  
  

  I
  also posted recipes for my favorite pie (above), favorite cookies
  (jelly tarts or thumbprints), and (drumroll, please!) edible
  fruitcake.  Having given up sugar and wheat, I can no longer enjoy
  those old favorites, but you still have time to prepare some for your holiday pleasure and giving.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh dear me!  How did this get in there?  If you want to know, you can go find out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  • 4:46 am
  • 8 Comments