Date: Fri 25-Dec-1998

Publication: Bee

Author: CURT

Quick Words:

commentary-Clark-Christmas

Full Text:

COMMENTARY: Far From The Manger

BY CURTISS CLARK

What I knew as a child about the Baby Jesus seems now to be suffused with

light, as are other winter memories from my childhood in the late 50s and

early 60s.

Recollection kindly imparts gauzy filters over the harsh stuff from that time:

the hard oak and linoleum of interminable school days, the bone-rattling chill

that would set in at the far frontiers of my paper route, and the angry

untethered poodle at the Conklins between me and home.

What memory casts up like great stars in the East are the skating pond

bonfires, the lit town tree on the green, and ice-etched windows revealing the

candles of Christmas.

The story of Christmas-past emerges for me in a slightly confused state from

the soft, sentimental glow of remembrance. There was the excitement of

wrestling a big, pungent pine into the corner of the living room and binding

it tight with the bulky corded lights with big hot bulbs. There was the sudden

shroud of mystery in relations between adults and children over this business

about Santa Claus, marked by secrecy and subterfuge alien to our otherwise

direct and honest Yankee upbringing. And mixed in there somewhere between the

brisk scrub in the tub and cookies in the church social hall, was the story of

Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, Light of the World in a season of darkness.

The story of Christmas, as I remember, was delivered with grace and clarity to

all willing to sit on a numbing church pew without fidgeting, which may

explain why these recollections remain a bit opaque and confused for me.

At the heart of this great Christmas concoction, in my innocent view, was the

notion that children are special, particularly at this time of year. And of

all the children that ever were, Jesus was apparently the most special,

judging from his place at the center of the ranks of adoring creche figures in

our house. There he lay, luminous, beatific, and not the least bit chafed or

cranky, as babies are wont to be. Simply being, had earned this child the awe

and adoration of kings and creatures alike. As a newborn, he had done nothing.

He made simply being a child a more perfect state for the rest of us little

ones at Christmas time. He made it less important whether we'd been bad or

good -- that was Santa's mess to sort out. Somehow, this divine child made it

possible for all children to be angels, no matter what kind of trouble we'd

gotten into. In time, I would put this notion to the test with mixed results.

Obviously, religion was a bit beyond me as a child, and frankly it still is.

Jesus grew up and got complex, and so did I. I've strayed pretty far from the

manger. I've had to try to resurrect my own life a few times over the years,

and the results have been less than miraculous. I still end up chafed and

cranky with discouraging regularity.

The world seems a lot more complex too. The harsh stuff is harsher. Instead of

interminable school days, we suffer interminable sex scandals, and the

untethered Saddam is no poodle. We watch for great stars in the East through

nightscopes and see that they are cruise missiles. How in the world are we

ever going to filter this stuff out?

But every year, out of the darkness, comes Christmas and a new chance at

infancy for ourselves and for the world. Have we been good or bad in the past

year? Fortunately, it doesn't matter if we recognize the essence of our being

, which still has the potential to awe kings and creatures alike.

As we grope around in the pervasive darkness of the winter solstice, it is

sometimes hard to rediscover that essence without the aid of a bright new

star. But from the very first Christmas, it has been children who have

illuminated our spirits in this season.

If we watch the children who gather around the tree on Christmas day and

remember the children we were those many years ago, a feeling is certain to

arise. That feeling is the essence of being that we seek. It is love,

compassion, and unconditional adoration. And in that moment of rediscovery we

can see that perhaps we haven't strayed that far from the manger after all.