From “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho – Santiago, a shepherd, speaking of his sheep:
“The problem is that they don’t even realize that they’re walking on a re road every day. They don’t see that the fields are new and the season’s change. All they think about is good and water. Maybe we’re all that way, the boy mused.”
Photo taken in Galveston earlier this year. Merry Christmas!
I went to prison last night for our weekly prayer and share. (Well, it happens weekly when the men are not in lock-down, confined to their cells. And I only go once a month, but still, it is a weekly occurrence.) As these guys greeted me they wished me a Merry Christmas. It immediately occurred to me that they had no reason to look forward to Christmas. They were all wearing standard issue whites, green jackets not warm enough for the cold outside, standard issue shoes. All that to say that they, we, were in prison, only I got to leave in an hour. There would be no presents for them this year, none of the Christmas “trappings” I take for granted. Not even fruitcake! Then it occurred to me that some of these guys are lifers, so their reality was that Christmas, as I think of it, would never be reality to them. Still – “Merry Christmas” rolled off their tongues more easily than mine –I now felt guilty for even saying it. Then, this line came to mind just when I needed it. From Dr. Seuss and How the Grinch Stole Christmas:
“Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more!”
No, these men would not experience Christmas as I think of it, but maybe I need to adjust my thinking. Yes, we were here inside multiple fences wrapped in barbed-wire with care, but not in hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there. Nope, this was a celebration of God’s presence among us, a celebration of the real Christmas that “doesn’t come from a store.”
Hopefully, like the Grinch, my heart “grew three sizes that day.”
Also among my Christmas favorites is In the Bleak Midwinter. One of my favorite versions is by (go figure) the Crash Test Dummies. The song is rather old. It was originally a poem written by Christina Rossetti in 1872, then was put into song in 1906. I guess it is not really a popular song. It is, after all, 110 years old and ensconced in the Episcopalian Hymnal. But it is such a great winter song.
In the bleak midwinter, frosty winds made moan; earth as hard as iron, water like a stone….”
That is a simple testament to how words can transport you. Even sitting in a warm house those first lines send a shiver down your spine and transport you to that point in location and time in your life where you have been really cold.
It is also a great Christmas song, and for that matter, a great all year song, because of a later verse:
What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man, I would do my part. Yet what can I give Him – give my heart.
Amen.
In listening to O’ Holy Night recently I somehow focused on the word “yonder” – as in “for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” “Yonder” is not really a modern word. In fact, it seems like a word that, if used, would perhaps label someone as somewhat of a rube. Indeed, it sounds like something Jed Clampett or Granny would say in The Beverly Hillbillies (“Jethro, go fetch Ellie Mae yonder at the cement pond.”). Still, it seems like a great word. It replaces “in a distance, over there” quite succinctly.
In contemplating the songwriter’s use of that word, it occurs to me that the Christmas Story is, in fact, a story of “yonder.” It is a story of how we get from “here,” from where we are and what we are, to “yonder,” to a better place, to some better form of ourselves, some better form of humanity.
“[F]or yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn.” I can almost hear it from the wise men – and from myself — “Let’s go over yonder and see what that star is all about. What’s going on in that manger? Who is that little baby?”
Wisdom today from Keb Mo and Better Man:
“I’m gonna make my world a better place. I’m gonna keep a smile upon my face. I’m gonna teach myself how to understand. I’m gonna make myself a better man.”
That seems like a pretty good start.
One of my Christmas favorites is O, Holy Night.
“Long lay the world, in sin and error pining, ‘til he appeared, and the soul felt its worth. The thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn”
Not a mention of Santa Claus in it, no jingling bells, no snow or snowmen, no mention of Christmas having a color, blue or white, no grandma, or anyone else, being run over by a reindeer. No reindeer! No, this is just (just!) a song about Christmas, the real Christmas before that other Christmas came along. A Christmas where, in the “sin and error,” in the “pining,” in the “weary world” we pause, adjust our focus, take a deep breath or two (or more), and “rejoice” at the thought of a “new and glorious morn.” Holy indeed!
If there is a better string of words put to music I can’t think of it. Though written in the 1800s, it speaks to today, it speaks to tomorrow, and always will. “The thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” Merry Christmas!
“The author who benefits you most is not the one who tells you something you did not know before, but the one who gives expression to the truth that has been dumbly struggling in you for utterance.” Oswald Chambers.
I ran across this today and it echoed in my mind for a while. I guess we read for different reasons at different times. Sometimes I want a “mindless read” while at other times I am up to having my mind stimulated, even challenged by the words on the page. But the words that stick with me and roll around in my head the longest (might I go so far to say that they actually change me) are indeed those that “give expression to the truth that has been dumbly struggling in [me] for utterance.”
“Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.” Blaise Pascal
This quote was part of a reading at church today. As I reflected on this over the course of the day it became apparent that my world is indeed full of those incredible things waiting to be known. It occurs to me that the greatest obstacle to knowing these incredible things is not the scarcity of incredible things so much as my failure to see them for what they are, my lack of patience, and my self-centeredness, my busyness, …. Well, the list could be longer, but I’ll stop there.
Photo taken from an office window in Portland this morning. Lyrics, with a twist, from In the Bleak Midwinter.
It occurs to me... 