December 1970

The bumper sticker below the license plate of an Alabama auto caught my eye. It said, "Wise Men Still Seek Him."

Christmas is upon us again. The tired, but fairly good natured crowd clogs up the streets and freedom of movement is lost in the stores. Clerks are worn out and still they smile. Sales must be made and jobs need to be maintained. The joy of the season is almost buried under the crush for things. But is this what it's all about?

The temptation is to recall the orange in the toe of a stocking, wax candles on the pine tree you cut yourself, a "Flying Arrow" sled, the yule log you helped haul to the big fireplace, and the fire on the plum pudding. The woodbox in the corner by the kitchen range was a favorite spot also. Here you could drowse and absorb the first aroma of turkey and duck.

There is a definite generation gap... How many can recall stale hard candy, nuts in the shell, apples and a pair of shoe laces as the heart of the stocking loot? Or, the icy vigil at the head of the stairs while the pipeless furnace was being fired up with soft coal and the wood you had brought in?

Then we gathered in the parlor to open presents... You never heard about a parlor, or a mantle, or a kerosene lamp, or an outhouse, of sloppin' the hogs, or crows foot and standin' cedar... How about ground pine and laurel, holly and spruce, bayberry and Santa Claus?

It's no wonder we have trouble looking back some 2000 years when we can't even tell about our Christmas Past without a world of definition. Somehow this is the time of year to relate to the past, present, and future. We read about Scrooge and Tiny Tim with great feeling. We squelch our doubts by once again reading aloud, "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Clause!" At the same time we enjoy the superior smile of a boy who thinks he has found out there is no Santa and his Sister hasn't.

Tinsel and holly, Santa Claus, and children. Noise and confusion and the ring of cash registers; the tearing of credit slips (for Santa enters through a hole in the chimney and leaves through a hole in the pocket); above all these sounds are the notes of cornets and trombones playing "Holy Night" or "Little Town of Bethlehem." Wistful, little children look hungrily at shop displays; a child is made happy by a ten cent gadget (this is the season when we get the children something for Father to play with); Angels, wise men, and a special family; City lights and the light of a star. Luxury and a stable. Men of today and a manger of yesterday. Civilization and a Child.

To some the contrast seems a mockery and hypocrisy. Others there are to say romance and reality. I like the crowds and the three kings of the Orient. I like the city stores and the shepherds and the angels. Even in a world of confusion wise men see a star. Surely they say to young and old alike, "Help build a better tomorrow rather than to destroy an imperfect today."

The Wise Men following a Star, offering their gifts... This is a symbol of Christmas. If this ever be forgotten, the world will be the poorer. These Wise Men saw a Star. A radiance shone around them. Their hearts were not without wonder. These star-gazers related he brightness of the skies to the events of the earth. Even as the tides combine the waters of the earth with the pull of other planets, so these men responded to the unity and harmony of the larger universe.

These Wise Men saw a child. While it is possible to sentimentalize about childhood--or to fly off on another tangent in talk of little animals; nevertheless, most of us parents are saved by our children. The fires of our devotion are kindled around the manger of Bethlehem; or a tiny crib of a little child in any of our homes.

David L. Brigham
Executive Director