Like most kids raised in a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant home, I was all about Christmas. I loved everything about the holiday hype in December: The music, candles, my mom's homemade Chex Mix and fudge, my family's advent calendar, church on Christmas Eve -- which is followed in my family by our annual watching of "A Christmas Story" on TBS. Christmas meant family, home, and optimism, but as my journey into adulthood goes on, I feel those things less and less about Christmas time. The magic and joy has given way to passive aggressiveness and commercialization. The holiday has different connotations to me now: finals, stress, rehearsal. I guess I feel a little like Charlie Brown,\: I'm awash in the paraphernalia and pageantry more than ever, but I feel like my heart isn't in it anymore. I am tired, and so, it seems, the rest of the world is, too.
There have been a great deal of heartbreaks in the world just in the past year; I could list them all, but we all know what I am talking about. Because of that pain, people everywhere are giving in to hate and fear, and there is so much talk (aka yelling) about that pain, hate and fear that we can barely hear ourselves think anymore. The world is so loud that all I want is peace.
I may not be feeling the Christmas spirit right at the moment, but I know it is the cure to exactly what I need. As a music major at my school, one of the events that I am required to perform in is Christmas Vespers, a service of music and scripture put on by the choirs, orchestra, and incredible organ professor Dr. Plamann. Every year we close with the same number, "Night of Silence." Written to be performed with "Silent Night," it is a piece themed after the verse from Isaiah that you hear often during this time of year: "People walking in darkness have seen a great light." This piece is an OCU institution, and since it's been around so long, it is very susceptible to becoming a joke among snarky vocalists. The more I think of the text of that piece, however, it really reflects how I am feeling.
Cold are the people, Winter of life,
We tremble in shadows this cold endless night,
Frozen in the snow lie roses sleeping,
Flowers that will echo the sunrise,
Fire of hope is our only warmth,
Weary, its flame will be dying soon.
Voice in the distance, call in the night,
On wind you enfold us you speak of the light,
Gentle on the ear you whisper softly,
Rumors of a dawn so embracing,
Breathless love awaits darkened souls,
Soon will we know of the morning.
Spirit among us, shine like the star,
Your light that guides shepherds and kings from afar,
Shimmer in the sky so empty, lonely,
Rising in the warmth of your Son's love,
Star unknowing of night and day,
Spirit we wait for your loving Son.
Humankind has been walking in darkness for a long time, and we are living in a terribly weary world, but that is why we need Christmas. The holiday is a reminder of the hope, light, and peace that is to come. I especially love the line, "Breathless love awaits darkened souls," because lately everything feels dark to me, including my soul. This line, my faith, and this holiday are a reminder of the unconditional love promised to humanity. So, I may have trouble finding the Christmas spirit at the moment, but I shall not forget its message or importance.
This year at Vespers, our big orchestral number was an excerpt from Ralph Vaughan Williams' "Dona Nobis Pacem," which is also based on text from Isaiah. I remember singing it in rehearsal the week after the news broke over the violence in France, Lebanon, and Syria, and thinking it was precisely the right thing to sing this year. I will leave you with the text from the beginning of the piece:
Nation shall not lift up a sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.
And none shall make them afraid, neither shall a sword go through their land.
Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
Truth shall spring out of the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven.
It will be a Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown.