Nothing greater could be heard,
Than a dry wind in the thorn,
The cry of the One new-born,
And cattle in stall as they stirred.
~ C.S. Lewis
Nothing greater could be heard,
Than a dry wind in the thorn,
The cry of the One new-born,
And cattle in stall as they stirred.
~ C.S. Lewis
I’ve heard the Christmas story preached numerous times from numerous angles, because there is more than one chain of events involved. Indeed, the gospel account of the first Christmas is filled with characters and subplots and parallel themes. None of these fascinates me more than the Magi. We call them “The Three Wise Men,” or “Three Kings.” But we actually know very little about these mysterious characters from the Far East. They are mentioned only in the gospel of Matthew. We know they began their westward journey at the time the star first appeared in the sky on the night Christ was born. They journeyed for many months following this star. Eventually, they showed up in Jerusalem asking for the whereabouts of the King of the Jews. (How did these three gentlemen from the Far East know they were looking for the King of the Jews?) Once they located the Christ child, they worshipped him and presented him with impractical gifts that were better suited for an earthly king. But their worship and offerings were unmistakably genuine.
On the side, we have King Herod, who was troubled by the appearance of the Magi. More precisely, he was troubled that they came asking for a King of the Jews who was not named Herod. (He did not like competition.) King Herod tried to deceive the Magi into giving away the whereabouts of the true King of the Jews, but they were warned in a dream to escape Israel via an alternate route, and so they wisely avoided King Herod on the way out.
What a truly wonderful story.
Texas Governor Rick Perry has signed into law a bill protecting Christmas and other holiday celebrations in public schools from legal challenges, and he also reminded the anti-Christian zealots on the left that freedom of religion does not automatically translate into freedom from religion.
A record of the genealogy of Jesus Christ the son of David, the son of Abraham: Abraham was the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, Judah the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar, Perez the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab, Boaz the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth, Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of King David. David was the father of Solomon, whose mother had been Uriah’s wife, Solomon the father of Rehoboam, Rehoboam the father of Abijah, Abijah the father of Asa, Asa the father of Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat the father of Jehoram, Jehoram the father of Uzziah, Uzziah the father of Jotham, Jotham the father of Ahaz, Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, Hezekiah the father of Manasseh, Manasseh the father of Amon, Amon the father of Josiah, and Josiah the father of Jeconiah and his brothers at the time of the exile to Babylon. After the exile to Babylon: Jeconiah was the father of Shealtiel, Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, Abiud the father of Eliakim, Eliakim the father of Azor, Azor the father of Zadok, Zadok the father of Akim, Akim the father of Eliud, Eliud the father of Eleazar, Eleazar the father of Matthan, Matthan the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ. Thus there were fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Christ. (Matthew 1:1-17)
In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.” “How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.” “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said.” Then the angel left her. (Luke 1:26-38)
In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told. (Luke 2:1-20)
After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.” When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Christ was to be born. “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied, “for this is what the prophet has written: ‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for out of you will come a ruler who will be the shepherd of my people Israel.’” Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and make a careful search for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.” After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.” So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” (Matthew 2:1-15)
Footnote: The genealogy of Jesus Christ given in Matthew 1 does not include those 19 generations that preceded Abraham. (The numbers in parentheses are the ages of the men when they became fathers to the next members in the line of succession.) They are Adam (130), Seth (105), Enosh (90), Kenan (70), Mahalalel (65), Jared (162), Enoch (65), Methuselah (187), Lamech (182), Noah (500), Shem (100), Arphaxad (35), Shelah (30), Eber (34), Peleg (30), Reu (32), Serug (30), Nahor (29), Terah (70), and Abram, who became Abraham, and was born 1,946 years after the creation of Adam. Therefore, all of the generations from Adam to Jesus Christ are 61.
Time magazine has a pretty good piece on a Christian organization that is rebelling against the commercial aspects of Christmas and is instead turning to goodwill toward others.
But to a growing group of Christians, this focus on the commercial aspect of Christmas is itself the greatest threat to one of Christianity’s holiest days. “It’s the shopping, the going into debt, the worrying that if I don’t spend enough money, someone will think I don’t love them,” says Portland pastor Rick McKinley. “Christians get all bent out of shape over the fact that someone didn’t say ‘Merry Christmas’ when I walked into the store. But why are we expecting the store to tell our story? That’s just ridiculous.”
McKinley is one of the leaders of an effort to do away with the frenzied activity and extravagant gift-giving of a commercial Christmas. Through a savvy viral video and marketing effort, the so-called Advent Conspiracy movement has exploded. Hundreds of churches on four continents and in at least 17 countries have signed up to participate. The Advent Conspiracy video has been viewed more than a million times on YouTube and the movement boasts nearly 45,000 fans on Facebook. Baseball superstar Albert Pujols is a supporter – he spoke at a church event in St. Louis to endorse the effort.
Christian Group Launches New Attack on Christmas Commercialism – Yahoo! News
The young wife and I went out to Cheekwood today to see the Christmas trees. The good thing about that is, it’s the only time they let you take pictures inside the mansion, and even then they only let you take pictures of the trees. But you take what you can get.
Mrs. Right Minded is selling poinsettias as a fund-raiser for our school. Today, she went to the supplier to get some samples so she can show everyone what they’ll be buying. We were both amazed by how flawless these things are. So, here, enjoy them with us.
It’s amazing the lengths to which liberals will go in order to sidestep anything related to Christianity. These people are absolutely paranoid about offending that one person, even if it means the manjority gets the shaft.
A public interest law firm has launched a new attack on what it calls an “anti-Christmas virus” evidenced by a school district that banned even traditional Christmas tunes.
The Ann Arbor, Mich.-based Thomas More Law Center says its lawyers filed a brief in the 3rd U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Philadelphia in a case challenging a New Jersey districts ban on the melodies.
“As so often is the case,” the firm said, “a complaint from one parent resulted in the districts policy that banned the playing of all Christmas music, including simple instrumentals without words.”
(The following post is an excerpt from My Italian Experience, and tells the story of my attending Christmas Eve mass at St. Peter’s Cathedral in the Vatican City on December 24-25, 1990. I spent three straight Christmases away from home during my time in the Navy, all of them in Italy, and my last one there, described below, was also the most memorable. This is about as good a Christmas as you can have while separated from your family.)
George and I attended Christmas Eve mass last night at the Vatican. Since my work schedule had prevented my attending the ceremony the previous two years, I seized the opportunity this time. The weather was perfect for a trip to Rome: raining, chilly, and quite dreary.
During the morning, George’s roommate offered to drive us to Stazione Centrale. We left more than an hour before our 12:10 train was scheduled to depart. Traffic was worse than I had ever seen it. By the time we entered downtown, still several blocks from the train station, we stopped, and waited. George and I became increasingly uneasy. By 11:45, not having moved in some twenty minutes, and still with a few blocks to go, George and I got out and walked the remaining half-mile (in the rain, of course).
We made our way briskly through the usual maze of pedestrians, sidewalk vendors, and mopeds. Along the way, we discovered the problem. At an intersection, three lanes of traffic, each heading its own direction, had converged. It appeared deadlock would prevail for some time. Of course, there were no traffic policemen present.
George and I arrived at the station a minute or two after noon, and had to stand in line for a couple of minutes to get tickets. After purchasing “due biglietti per Roma e ritorno” (two round-trip tickets to Rome) at Lit. 23,600 ($19) apiece, we ran downstairs and made it to binario (track) three just before the espresso from Salerno arrived as scheduled.
We scrambled to find a partially vacant compartment, then seated ourselves. The train followed the subway line through Naples and into Pozzuoli before turning north toward Rome. I had brought my camera and an excess of film along with my usual cache of paraphernalia: umbrella, walkman, tapes. I put on headphones and dozed for a good portion of the journey.
The ride through the mountainous Italian countryside was serene, as usual, the dark clouds adding a touch of mystique. The rain was light but steady. We were taking an espresso, and there were no stops between Naples and Rome. The ride was enjoyable. During our journey, I visited the dining car, three cars from ours, for snacks, returning with cookies and drinks.
The ancient walls just outside the city gave the first indication of our imminent arrival. We rolled through the maze of tracks and pulled into the far left track, number twenty-six, at Roma Termini. It was a little after 2:00. We had arrived a couple of minutes early. The ride had taken two hours. We were in Rome. The weather had not changed. I was wearing my overcoat and a sweater, so the cool dampness did not affect me much.
Our initial endeavor was to visit a music store, one of several shops in the train station. We found nothing of interest, so we moved along.
We then decided to visit the USO, down the street from St. Peter’s Square, to get our tickets for mass. I had reserved them earlier in the week via telephone from Naples. They were free, but we had to get them by closing time, five o’clock.
George and I went down to the subway and purchased tickets (Lit. 700, or $0.60, apiece). We then headed for Line A (the other subway line in Rome being, of course, Line B), and awaited the next train. It soon arrived. Surprisingly, it wasn’t very crowded.
We traveled six stops westward to the end of the line. Boarding at Termini, we passed Repubblica, Barberini, Spagna, Flaminio, and Lepanto. We arrived at Ottaviano shortly, and made the half-mile walk south to St. Peter’s Square, then east to the USO. After obtaining the tickets, George attempted to telephone home, but the phone at the USO was out of order.
By now, we were thinking about food. We walked back to St. Peter’s Square, stopping briefly to admire the nativity scene and take pictures of each other with the cathedral as a backdrop, then walked back to the subway station.
We traveled two stops east to Flaminio. Walking through the underground tunnel, the street vendors and musicians had gathered en masse, open guitar cases catching a few coins. We ascended to the street near Piazza del Popolo. It was my idea to stop here for food. We walked around for perhaps fifteen minutes in search of a café where we could get a snack. By now it was four o’clock.
George and I found a nice, albeit small café in an underpass connecting Piazza del Popolo and a street leading to Villa Borghese. The neighborhood seemed familiar. I realized I had been here the year before, on August 2, when I had visited Villa Borghese.
Meanwhile, we sat down and enjoyed two small calzoni (folded pizzas) apiece and a coke. It was just something to hold us until dinner. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Most restaurants in Italy don’t open until seven or seven-thirty in the evening, so we had to eat something. After we finished, we walked into Piazza del Popolo, one of the most beautiful piazzas in all of Rome, with its Egyptian obelisk standing in the center. By now it was almost dark. A handful of people standing atop the Pincine Hill, accessible from the piazza, were looking across the piazza and the nightlit city. It must have been an awesome view with dusk now settling over Rome.
George suggested we return to the Vatican. We rode the subway, then began the casual walk toward St. Peter’s Square. In the meantime, we decided to stop in a bar for cappuccino and relax for a few minutes. We drank our cappuccino and even enjoyed gelato to go. We departed abruptly after the bartender wouldn’t allow us to sit. (Italians are very peculiar about this.)
We made our way back to St. Peter’s Square to once again admire the nativity scene, now lit, and the huge Christmas tree beside it. It was adorned with hundreds of lights. We both made a couple of photographs and departed.
As the time approached six o’clock, I made a stop at a pay telephone as George waited nearby. He had made a brief call earlier while in the Flaminio subway station just after we had eaten and were returning to the Vatican.
By now the rain had become intermittent. We craved a meal soon. George suggested L’Etrusco, an osteria near St. Peter’s, which he had frequented before. I had no reason to object. We walked around the neighborhood talking, window shopping, and trying to whittle away the time until seven. We circumnavigated the same city block several times, passing L’Etrusco, hungrily, each trip.
Thinking ahead, we were also trying to determine which buses, if any, would be able to take us to either Stazione Ostiense or Stazione Tiburtina, where trains would be leaving during the early morning for Naples. Stazione Termini would close at midnight. We had gotten some information at the USO, but an inquiry posed at a nearby information booth proved this invalid. We decided we would be forced to take a taxi to one of the stations. There would be no buses in the area after midnight.
Around a quarter before seven George and I decided to enter L’Etrusco to see if it was open. To our amazement, it was. It had opened early because of the midnight mass. We sat at a table near the door.
The dining area was characteristically small, perhaps a dozen or so tables. We were given menus, and soon ordered caprese for antipasto. For a first course, I enjoyed fettucini. We both ordered the white house wine.
As our food was being prepared, the restaurant began to fill. A half-hour after our arrival as the first guests, the dining room was full. We were joined by a mixture of Germans, Italians, Brits, and Americans.
George and I enjoyed a slow meal, even ordering a second liter of wine to help us pass the time. We also ordered third courses, then desserts. As the evening progressed, the osteria grew increasingly boisterous. Finally, a young man carrying a guitar entered from the street to exchange entertainment for coins. He must have played some popular Italian songs, for around half the patrons began singing along. We shook our heads in disbelief.
Shortly after nine o’clock, George and I decided to leave. We asked for the bill. It was surprisingly small, Lit. 43,500 ($35). We then made the short walk to St. Peter’s Square. There we waited in a long line to enter the cathedral. We met some Canadians who stood in front of us.
Following an hour wait, the line began to move. We walked up the steps of the cathedral where a group of Carabinieri were directing guests to the proper entrance. The tickets were color-coded as per language. George and I were directed to the north side of the cathedral where we entered through Porta Rezzonico. We were seated with other English-speaking folks.
Having entered the cathedral at ten-thirty, we had some ninety minutes before the commencement of the mass. An organist played one of the pipe organs. The sound was phenomenal. We passed a little time by taking a few photographs and skimming the programs given us as we had entered. Only a small portion was inscribed in English.
As midnight approached, the cathedral filled to capacity, some twenty thousand. The suspense was agonizing. A choir began singing a few minutes before midnight, and finally, at twelve, the lights brightened and the crowd stood as the papal court entered the enormous sanctuary. In fact, the court walked down the aisle to my immediate left. The ceremony had begun.
The mass was conducted in a multitude of languages, George and I understanding only a fraction. Unfortunately, we were not afforded the best of seats. In fact, we were several rows from the pope, some twenty-five meters away. Invariably, each time the pontiff turned toward our side, several people in front of us stood with their cameras.
The ceremony was scheduled to end at two o’clock. George and I grew increasingly tired and oblivious to the mass. We decided to leave a little early, walking out at a quarter past one.
Our first endeavor was to find a taxi. We walked out of St. Peter’s Square, turning north. With a mighty stroke of luck, a vacant white taxi turned south onto the street facing us. We stopped him and asked how much he would charge to take us to Ostiense. “Trenta mila,” he replied after conferring with the gentleman sitting beside him. That was reasonable. I then asked his price for driving us to Tiburtina. “Quaranta mila,” he replied. We therefore opted for the ride to Tiburtina. It was a little farther, and would therefore cost a little more, but the next train for Naples would depart there at two-thirty, vice three-thirty from Ostiense. We did not wish to wait in the cold an additional hour to save Lit. 10,000 ($8).
The taxi cruised the empty streets of Rome for the twenty-minute ride to Tiburtina. We arrived at two o’clock, paid the Lit. 40,000 ($32), and entered the station. It was deserted, less a handful of homeless. We checked the schedule for the track our train would use, then sauntered over to track two to await our train.
The train we would board had left from Milan earlier in the evening. It was headed for Palermo in Sicily. George and I reasoned it would be rather full. When it arrived, just after two-thirty, we were proven correct. We searched most of the train, composed mostly of sleeper cars, until finally discovering a compartment near the front with two empty seats.
This train was also an espresso, and it, too, made no stops between Rome and Naples. I listened to my walkman for most of the journey, nodding off occasionally. George slept most of the way. The train ride passed rather quickly as we pulled into Napoli Centrale at five o’clock Christmas morning. A short taxi ride back to Capodichino marked the end of our trip.
I rose at ten o’clock that morning so George and I could go to some friends’ home for the afternoon. We took the bus from Capodichino to Agnano, and were driven from there by car.