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25 Dec 00 - 09:49 AM (#363071) Subject: Thought for the day, Christmas, 2000 From: Allan C. Nearly every year at this time, I crack open a big, red book called "The Fireside Book of Christmas Stories" which has been in my parents' home since the year I was born. While it contains many wonderful tales, my attention is always attracted to "Christmas Papers", written by Washington Irving. I will share a small excerpt with you today: Nothing in England exercises a more delightful spell over my imagination, than the lingerings of the holiday customs and rural games of the former times… Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations. There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the church about this season are extremely tender and inspiring. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that accompanied its announcement. They gradually increase in fervor and pathos during the season of Advent, until they break forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace and good will to men. I don not know a grander effect of music on the moral feelings, than to hear the full choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant harmony. It is a beautiful arrangement, also derived from days of yore, that this festival, which commemorates the announcement of the religion of peace and love, has been made the season for gathering together of family connections, and drawing closer together again those bands of kindred hearts, which the cares and pleasures and sorrows of the world are continually operating to cast loose: of calling back the children of a family, who have launched forth in life, and wandered widely asunder, once more to assemble about the paternal hearth that rallying-place of the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the endearing momentos of childhood. There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At other times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature…But in the depth of winter, when nature lies despoiled of every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of sheeted snow, we turn for our gratifications to moral sources. The dreariness and desolation of the landscape, the short gloomy days and darksome nights, while they circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our feelings also from rambling abroad, and make us more keenly disposed for the pleasure of the social circle. Our thoughts are more concentrated, our friendly sympathies more aroused. We feel more sensibly the charm of each other's society, and are brought more closely together by dependence on each other for enjoyment. Heart calleth unto heart; and we draw our pleasures from the deep wells of loving-kindness, which lie in the quiet recesses of our bosoms; and which, when resorted to, furnish forth the pure element of domestic felicity… The English, from the great prevalence of rural habit throughout every class of society, have always been fond of those festivals and holidays which agreeably interrupt the stillness of country life; and they were, in former days, particularly observant of the religious and social rites of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even the dry details which some antiquaries have given of the quaint humors, the burlesque pageants, the complete abandonment to mirth and good-fellowship, with which this festival was celebrated. It seemed to throw open every door, and unlock every heart. It brought the peasant and the peer together, and blended all ranks in one warm generous flow of joy and kindness. The old halls of castles and manor houses resounded with the harp and the Christmas carol, and their ample boards groaned under the weight of hospitality. Even the poorest cottage welcomed the festive season with green decorations of bay and holly-the cheerful fire glanced its rays through the lattice, inviting the passengers to raise the latch, and join the gossip knot huddled round the hearth beguiling the long evening with legendary jokes and oft-told Christmas tales. …Stranger and sojourner as I am in the land-though for me no social hearth may blaze, no hospitable roof to throw open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship welcome me at the threshold-yet I feel the influence of the season beaming into my soul from the happy looks of those around me. Surely happiness is reflective, like the light of heaven; and every countenance, bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoyment, is a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and ever-shining benevolence. He who can turn churlishly away from contemplating the felicity of his fellow beings and can sit down darkling and repining in his loneliness when all around is joyful, may have his moments of strong excitement and selfish gratification, but he wants the genial and social sympathies which constitute the charm of a merry Christmas. |
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25 Dec 00 - 10:37 AM (#363087) Subject: RE: BS: Thought for the day, Christmas, 2000 From: catspaw49 Lovely my friend. Merry Christmas Cecil. Spaw |
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25 Dec 00 - 11:06 AM (#363098) Subject: RE: BS: Thought for the day, Christmas, 2000 From: Allan C. Cecil was my father's first name. I am honored that you call me that, Spaw. Happy Christmas to all. |
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25 Dec 00 - 12:12 PM (#363129) Subject: RE: BS: Thought for the day, Christmas, 2000 From: catspaw49 I knew several people named Cecil back home growing up. Its one of those names that seems to have gone out of style for awhile as names often do. I hope it makes a comeback Allan. My Dad's name was Walter, another you hear a lot less of these days. All too often though, some names make a monster comeback! A few years ago when I was teaching, we had 178 males in our vocational school where I taught and 36 of them were named "Jason." I know this because we counted after talking about it one day in the lunchroom. We should have counted the "Heathers" too. Spaw |
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25 Dec 00 - 02:38 PM (#363180) Subject: RE: BS: Thought for the day, Christmas, 2000 From: McGrath of Harlow Whenever people write about Christmas, yoyu findd them talking of it somethingb that is holding on as a survival from former times, on the point of being extinguished.
And a generation later, the old-time Christmas we are dreaming about is the Christmas of the very times when our parents were lamenting its passing.
And that is not a bad thing, if it makes us feel that it is precious, and that we need to take care of it.
Chesterton wrote a story/essay about that once,
"Good Lord!" he cried out; "it can't be you! It isn't you! I came to ask where your grave was."
"I'm not dead yet, Mr Dickens" said the old gentleman, with a feeble smile; "but I'm dying," he hastened to add reassuringly.
"But dash it all, you were dying in my time" said Mr Chales Dickens with animation; "and you don't look a day older."
"I've felt like this for a long time" said Father Christmas.
Mr Dickens turned his back and put his head out of the door into the darkness.
"Dick" he roared at the tope of his voice; "he's still alive."
Another shadow darkened the doorway, And a much larger and more full-blooded gentleman in an enormous pewriwig came in, fanning his flushed face with a military hat of the cut of Queen Anne. He carried his head well back like a soldier, and his hot face had even a look of arrogance, which was suddenly contradicted by his eyes, which were literally as humble as a dog's. His sword made a great clatter, as if the shop was too small for it.
"Indeed" said Sir Richard Steele, "'tis a most prodigious matter, for the man was dying when we wrote about Sir Roger de Coverley and his Christmas Day."
My senses were growing dimmer, and the room darker. It seemed to be full of newcomers.
"It hath ever been understood", said a burly man, who carried his head humorously and obstinately a little on one side - I think he was Ben Jonson - "It hath ever been understood, consule Jacobo, under our King James and her late Majesty, that such good and hearty customs were fallen sick and like to pass from the world. This grey beard was surely no lustier when I knew him than now."
And I also thought I heard a green-clad man, like Robin Hood, say in some mixed Norman French, "But I saw the man dying."
"I have felt like this a long time," said Ftaher Christmas, in his feeble way again.
Mr Charles Dickens sudddenly leant across to him.
"Since when?" he asked. "Since you were born?"
"Yes," said the bold mman, and sank shaking into a chair. "I have been always dying."
Mr Dicks took off his hat with a flourish like a man calling a mob to rise.
"I understand it now", he cried, "You will never die."
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25 Dec 00 - 06:19 PM (#363252) Subject: RE: BS: Thought for the day, Christmas, 2000 From: SINSULL Allan, Merry Christmas. And many, many more. |
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25 Dec 00 - 11:24 PM (#363337) Subject: RE: BS: Thought for the day, Christmas, 2000 From: katlaughing Thank you, Allan, that is beautiful and a great tradition of your own, that book. Kevin, I that was a great and poignant one, too. Thanks. luvyakat |