“T’was the night before Christmas, but nobody was really noticing.”

… When I could not have said it better, I borrow.

I borrow words like these …  from singer/songwriter Greg Brown who performs his beautiful “Christmas Song” with Bo Ramcey: Even when things look dark, deep down, there’s a light  … I borrow these from Albert Camus: In the midst of winter, I found, within me, an invincible summer … and from Jon Quelly in Common Dreams: I know very well how dark it feels right now for so many. We are right to be frightened and angry and frustrated. And at the same time, I feel deeply that the light “we all share, in the human heart” is the beginning of our path forward. We are going to have to fight like hell, but that fight will be built on love and solidarity or nothing at all.

I borrow these words from the late and wondrous Nikki Giovanni…We are better than we think and not quite what we want to be. We are alive to the imagination and the possibility. We will continue to invent the future through our blood and tears and through all this sadness. Incidentally, these are words she wrote after the 2007 mass shooting at Virginia Tech, where she was teaching at the time. Sadly, some words are timeless.

Jon Quelly, in his article goes on to say …  Even amidst all the horror and violence and injustice, we know in our life the good people—young and old and those neither young nor old—and they don’t ask us to believe but rather show us the way. In continuing to speak about Greg’s Christmas Song, he says:  The song presents a story of Jesus that escapes Christianity, which is perhaps why I find it so lovely and piercing. It opens the door to thinking about the hidden promise of a holiday that too often asks us “what we want” rather than reflecting on the joys of what we’ve been given.

One of my favorite verses in the song goes like this:

Just getting born is such an amazing thing.
You’d think we’d all just be nice forever after—
Just to get to be a part of it.
You’d think that anybody that ever held a little baby in their arms
Would be so careful not to ever do any damage
To another human being—or to the creation
Of which we are so obviously a part.

For the second straight year, Bethlehem’s Christmas celebrations will be somber and muted, in deference to ongoing war in Gaza. There will be no giant Christmas tree in Manger Square, no raucous scout marching bands, no public lights twinkling and very few public decorations or displays.

If your heart can handle the up close and personal truth about Bethlehem today, you might try this from my fellow substacker, Mohammed Mohisen: Every year, we celebrated with our Christian neighbors. We helped them decorate their Christmas trees, shared in their joy, and savored the sweet chocolates they gifted us with so much love. Now, the streets that once brimmed with the warmth of Christmas are cold and lifeless. The trees are gone. The chocolates are dust. The laughter has been replaced by the sounds of explosions and the wails of mourning. For two years now, we have been robbed of sharing their holidays, just as they have been robbed of ours. There are no celebrations anymore, only memories of a time when we could dream together, laugh together, live together. 

And there is still Ukraine with its resilient spirit “for the children“.

Here in our own country as we prepare to cross the threshold from one historic year to another, let us remember to breathe deeply, smile at strangers, hold those closest to us even closer and remember the invincible summer that lies withing each of us. “Don’t Let the Light Go Out.”

And here in Portland, don’t let the season pass without revisiting PSU’s 2020 gift of “Dona Nobis Pacem”.

Last, but not least, I invite you to take a minute to read “This Christmas”, a reminder poem I bring out every year.

So here we are again …  the night after Christmas and noticing …  I wish us All, Every One, the Blessings of the Season. And may this season remind you of the power of compassion, the strength of humanity, and the urgent need for justice.
With Love, Sulima