THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST (17)

by JANN FLURY
Columnist EducationNews.org

December 23, 2002

I remember Christmas from a long, long time ago when I was a little boy in a small village in Switzerland . Santa Clause always came to check us kids out a couple of days before Christmas. He came right into our home, just before bedtime. He took each of us on his knee, in turn, and asked whether we had been good or bad. He asked what we would like for Christmas and rummaged around in a big sack he kept in guarded isolation, and in which we never got to peek. He'd bring out a small bundle of birch branches fashioned into the dreaded "Aunt Greta": a last-resort instrument of discipline, used on any unruly, delinquent child, back in those mediaeval times. Santa would reconfirm that we had, indeed, been good and then pack up and leave, mumbling something about looking into what he could do about our Christmas wishes. There was no doubt about him being the "Real McCoy."

Christmas eve, the whole family--Momma, Papa, and we five kids--would walk to the Christmas concert, held at church. It was a festive, one-mile stroll in the moonlight, along a snowy path to the village square. The concert always started at 8 o'clock sharp. All the school children sang Christmas carols and participated in the concert, and the church organist filled in with excerpts from Handel's "Messiah."

After the concert, back at home, the candles on the freshly cut and decorated Christmas tree were lit, and our cat, "Anina," was let into the house. She always fancied the shiny ornaments on the tree and would promptly set a tiny bell a-tinkling with her clever little paws. Momma would dish out the special fruit breads and pastries she had prepared for the occasion and set a platter of cinnamon toast and a punch bowl of steaming "Gluehwein" on the table. There were nuts to crack and Mandarin oranges to peel. The whole family sang Christmas carols, and we all got to taste the "Gluehwein." Finally, we would get permission to open the Christmas presents we got at the church concert: mostly, things we had asked for from Santa.

The magic of Christmas, as I remember it, wasn't the presents, which were rather meager by today's standards; it was the ambience created by the fragrance, sounds, and the warmth and comforting spirit of togetherness of the family. It was the scent of fresh pine, orange peel, and the pungent aroma of "Gluehwein;" the flickering of the candles and the sound of song and laughter--even the playfulness of the cat--that made Christmas so special. At midnight , we thanked God for a happy home and a joyous Christmas and went to bed. Outside, large snowflakes were softly falling, and I managed to sneaked "Anina" into bed with me.

Today, the scent of Mandarin orange peel still lingers in most households at Christmas time. Trees mostly smell of plastic and it is forbidden to give children under 19 alcoholic beverages of any kind. Electric lights on the trees flash with monotonous regularity and candles are considered dangerous. Santa Clause has become a commercial figure: a sales representative for the toy industry, appearing in stores, on television, and street corners. He doesn't bother asking anymore if the children have been good or bad, only what they want. The spirit of Christmas is measured by the light displays in the neighbourhood and how much each family can spend on presents. Dad arrives home late because he's been held up at a "R.I.D.E." checkpoint for drunken drivers, and mother is irritable after a hectic day of last-minute shopping.

The celebration of the birth of Christ, which used to be the main theme of Christmas, has all but disappeared: it might offend those of other cultures who have chosen this Christian country as their home. For the sake of political correctness, the celebration of "Diversity" has become more important than Christianity. Many schools now avoid putting on Christmas concerts and any mention of Christ is assiduously avoided. Is this what celebrating "Diversity" means?

UNICEF urges us to open our hearts and give to the needy in the holiday spirit. Poverty is everywhere, they say, and any family that has has less than 45% of its income to spend on non-essential leisure items is now classified as underprivileged.

Measuring happiness in terms of material possessions has distorted the spirit of Christmas. For the affluent "haves," the festive season has come to represent a time of gluttonous excesses and disappointment when that last present won't work because it came with "batteries not included." For the "have-nots," the season has come to represent a time of maudlin self-pity and depression because they can't buy out the shopping mall. Family strife, violence, murder and suicide increase dramatically over the festive season, and the meaning of Christmas is somehow eclipsed by self-righteous overindulgence.

Material wealth is relative, and it is human nature to want just a little more than what one has, but happiness is not won by drowning in material possessions: it comes from love and family togetherness, which brings with it security and joy--to be celebrated during the very special Christmas season.

"Peace on Earth, Good Will to Man" may be a futile plea for 2003, but we can still hope for the best.

May you all have a truly Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year