Christmas 2010 will be remembered as a wonderful holiday season. Peace on earth. Good will toward men. That is truly what it represents. If we could eliminate the Internet, evening news broadcasts, radio talk shows and morning newspapers, and if we focused more intently on our inner spiritual lives, Christmas 2010 would be unspoiled. The holiday would be filled with genuine spirit if our daily existence remained untouched by the ineffectual and weak politics that dominate our era and unsoiled by the media’s one-dimensional pettiness that seems to direct so much of this nation’s path. Without the constant barrage of negative news, without being caught in the 24/7 news cycle, without succumbing to bleak economic reports and pessimistic outlooks about our lives, the holiday would hold greater significance where it truly matters—in our hearts and minds. If we could step away from shopping centers and the materialistic struggles that consume us as Americans, we might reconnect with the holiday’s real meaning—the birth of Christ. Even amid economic hardship and a nation and world undergoing rapid transformation, this Christmas remains a celebration. Our nation is divided against itself. Things no longer function as they once did. These are frustrating times, marked by uncertainty about a future we cannot grasp. Questions about what lies ahead are everywhere, and truthfully, no one peering into a crystal ball can say where we are headed. We know our past. Currently we find ourselves stationary, like pebbles frozen in the earth. Yet it is Christmas. There exists a hopeful spirit, Yuletide lights and decorations, invigorating cold air, evergreen wreaths and trees, and the beautiful sights and sounds of the season. Drawing on the immortal words of William Wordsworth: The minstrels played their Christmas tune To-night beneath my cottage-eaves; While smitten by a lofty moon, The encircling laurels thick with leaves. Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, That overpowered their natural green. Through hill and valley every breeze Had sunk to rest with folded wings: Keen was the air, but could not freeze, Nor check, the music of the strings; So stout and hardy were the band That scraped the chords with strenuous hand. And who but listened?-till was paid Respect to every inmate’s claim, The greeting given, the music played In honor of each household name, Duly pronounced with lusty call, And “Merry Christmas” wished to all.
Christmas 2010
