An American Christmas Tale

This morning was a learning morning for me. I always get a kick out of the chance to learn something from the past, some tidbit of history that jumps up and teaches me a principle, a concept, or an idea. Today started out like most any other Sunday. I woke-up, got a hug from my Lady Fair, scratched the dog behind his ears, took care of my daily constitutional, broke-out the ironing board and a white shirt, and turned on the TV to “Music and the Spoken Word”. Of course the order varies according to the specific urgency of the day, but that’s generally the first few minutes of my Sunday morning.
And yes Virginia, he does iron his own shirts. Don’t ask me how a manly-man of my stature comes to a point in life where he finds himself ironing his own shirts because I simply don’t know. If I were honest with myself about it I would likely come to the conclusion that my Lady is smarter and craftier than I give her credit for. But ones manly ego does not allow ones thoughts to travel in such spheres, so lets just say that I find its something I prefer doing for myslf.
Today, while listening to “Music and the Spoken Word” I was treated to some of American History that bears contemplation in today’s world (… conflict and strife) and our seasonal situation (i.e., most corporations drawing to a close their fiscal accounting, celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, and contemplation of next years resolutions). There’s cosmic irony in the relationships and influences that these three impose on each other. The older I get the more important and worthy of contemplation this seasonal period merits on all three counts. Today was an inch-stone event, as verses a mile-stone event. Minor from the perspective of ones totality, but well worthy of mention.
As I’m sitting there listening and ensuring that the cuff pleats of my shirt sleeves are “just-so” I hear the narrator (not the normal host) telling a personal history of one of our nations greats from circa 1860. He explains that our nation was embroiled in an unpopular conflict that had resorted to military action. One that pitted brothers and cousins against each other, even Fathers against Sons, both physically and mentally. The financial burden of the military conflict was immense, a burden felt by all citizens throughout our nation. Many thought it to be at an irrevocable cost that could not be born by the nation. It seemed that not everyone fully understood the true issue that was being tested by the conflict of arms; this issue being what price would American citizens be willing to pay to help define “freedom” on both a national and international basis?
Its curious to me that this issue must be defined and redefined at least once in every generation; some of us get the opportunity to hold true and participate in the definition of Freedom twice, and sometimes three times in their lifetime (i.e., the Civil War, Indian Wars, WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Boznia-Hertzgovina, Gulf War I and Gulf War II, dare I say Afghanistan).
In our hero’s era we learn that in 1860 he looses his house to a fire. While the house is in flames he is severely burned in an attempt to safe his beloved wife Fanny; he succeeds in retrieving her mortal body from the fire, but not her life. He is bedridden for a very long time due to the burns he received in the rescue attempt. His wife is buried three days later on the anniversary of their wedding while he lays in his bed critically ill due his burns. Our hero recovers but is melancholy, and is finding it hard to face life and continue on as the sole surviving parent to his children.
In 1861 he must endure another loss. He receives notification that his eldest son Charles, a soldier in the war, has been critically wounded. He travels to Washington D.C. to be near his son and to bring him home for recovery if possible. It takes him several days once he arrives at Washington to locate his son; and when he does he finds that he has arrived in time to be near his son for the last few hours of his life. In his grief he utters the now well known phrase… “There is no peace on earth, for hate is strong and mocks the song, of Peace on earth, good will to men."
Our hero moves through life a sad and pitiful sole that puts on brave face for the sake of his remaining family, but feels the loss of his wife and son to the marrow of his bones. Then on Christmas morning of 1863 he awakes and tells us that he felt the physical presence of his wife in each and every room of the house. He came to realize that even after death she remained with him, and would be there for him throughout all time and eternity. As he sat there basking in his new found zest for life he heard the bells tolling in the church’s throughout his town and his heart swelled with happiness and understanding. His feelings of warmth, happiness, family, and a fullness of life inspired him to pull out a clean sheet of paper and capture his feelings in prose. Today we know these words as the lyrics to “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”; the hero of our story is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Here’s the timeless words of inspiration that Henry had to say:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old familiar carols play.And wild and sweet the words repeat Of Peace on earth, good will to men. I thought how as the day had come The belfries of all Christendom Had roll'd along th' unbroken song Of Peace on earth, good will to men. And in despair, I bow'd my head: "There is no peace on earth," I said,"For hate is strong and mocks the song, Of Peace on earth, good will to men." Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound the carols drowned Of peace on earth, good will to men. It was as if an earthquake rent The hearthstones of a continent, And made forlorn, the households born Of peace on earth, good will to men. Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, With Peace on earth, good will to men."

Many lyricists have modified the lyrics over the years. However, I believe that when you understand the history of the original version you’ll love it best. I find this Christmas Tale to be moving and full of inspiration and hope for each of us today. The circumstances that we find ourselves in are very much a parallel to Henry’s. We're a nation that is having a hard time redefining ourselves to fit the era we’re living in. We’re not sure as nation the price we are willing to pay for the Freedom of Mankind; and many of us have forgotten, if we ever knew, that the freedom of choice for man kind is the crux, the heart and sole of all Christendom. We’re in a financial crisis that only in part was brought about by the cost of war, but mainly has to deal with the shifting of the entire finical structure on an international basis. Many Americans are so wrapped up in “me firstism’s”, the concept of entitlements (ergo, I am entitled to…(add the term dujor)…) that they can’t see their own demise on the horizon.
Both temporal and theological history teaches us that if any of us attempt to carry this accumulative burden individually, by our self, we are doomed to fail. The saving grace, the lesson to be learned, is that collectively we can endure, and through endurance succeed where others fail.
So as you face the new era, the new year, or simply the new day, remember that you are not alone. You have brothers, sisters, cousins, parents,….”Family”….., that you can rely on in. Remember that your family extends beyond blood lines to your Spiritual Family and from there to your National Family. And most of all keep the concept of Freedom and individual choice as a guiding principal in your life, and listen to that small still voice when making your choices. After all, isn’t that what Christendom is all about, Family and freedom of Choice? And that to me is why we celebrate Christmas.

Merry Christmas!