Images of Advent from the Silver Screen: December 23

December 23

Elf

 

In shopping at the great emporium of commercialism, Sam’s Club, I discovered a delightful treat for the lover of chocolate chip cookie dough – a bag of bite-sized edible chocolate chip cookie dough, dusted in chocolate and available at your fingertips – without the danger of raw eggs. I was reminded of the plan suggested by Buddy the Elf in “Elf.”  “First we’ll make snow angels for two hours, then we’ll go ice skating, then we’ll eat a whole roll of Toll House cookie dough as fast as we can, and then we’ll snuggle.” 

Yes, the simple pleasures of life. Buddy’s got the right idea, in this film that finds the human elf in New York City in search of his father.  Played by Will Farrell, Buddy’s lack of sophistication is charming, as is his joy in smiling. “I just like to smile. Smiling’s my favorite.” While the mask-wearing of 2020 may help to prevent disease, it also prevents us from sharing our simile with those we meet. We have to resort to the art of raising our eyebrows or the crinkling of the lines at the corner of our eyes to express our joy behind the mask. 

Buddy also says, “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.” Once again, 2020 has limited our singing, unless in the presence of grandchildren, where songs about Rudolph and the Grinch are frequently belted out. Can’t keep the children from singing!

In 2020, I'm grateful the simple pleasures enjoyed by Buddy – playing in the snow, eating Toll House cookie dough, snuggling with those we love (especially grandchildren), smiling for absolutely no reason, and singing the songs and carols of Christmas, are bringing renewed joy to our holiday celebrations.  

 

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts, 

sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.

Colossians 3:16

What Did You Get for Christmas?

So what did you get for Christmas? It’s a common question for December 26^th, as we compare notes on what the Big Guy in the Red Suit crammed down our chimneys. The ritual of my growing up years was to leave the presents under the tree for the post-Christmas visits, as we’d show off our stack of loot to those who dropped by in between Christmas and New Year’s Day. My dad’s pile always included socks and underwear, which all had to be made in America, as he stayed true to his AFL-CIO union roots.

 

I’m guessing we all have memories of a Christmas present that was especially cherished. In 1959I received a doll I christened Linda, who still sits in a corner of my basement, kept for nostalgic reasons rather than any extrinsic value. Linda has never been quite the same since my brother and his friend Randy buried her in the sandbox. 

 

Perhaps the most memorable of gifts, given to me on the cusp of adolescence, was the Singer sewing machine I received one snowy Christmas morning. I’d enjoyed my home economics class where I learned to sew, and visited my Aunt Annamae, the family seamstress, to use her machine. That Singer would get a good workout over the years, as I created a pale yellow dotted Swiss prom gown, a bridesmaid dress for my cousin’s wedding, my own wedding gown, and even a Salvation Army maternity uniform. That Singer was a gift that kept on giving.

 

I’ve since learned that family finances were much tighter than I realized as a child, but there were always presents under the tree on Klinger Avenue. The threat of Roy C. Bennett and Sid Topper’s lyrics never came true: “I’m gettin’ nuttin’ for Christmas, Mommy and Daddy are mad, I’m gettin’ nuttin’ for Christmas, ‘cause I ain’t been nuttin’ but bad.” 

 

Such was not the case for Keisha, who attended our church in the Hough neighborhood in Cleveland. Christmas was on a Sunday, and the children had crossed the street from the housing project to attend our simple service that morning. Our four-year-old was gripping his new wrestling figures fiercely as the older kids excitedly told of their Christmas treasures. When I asked eleven-year-old Keisha what she’d gotten for Christmas, her answer stunned me: “Nothing.” She hadn’t been “nuttin’ but bad,” for she was one of the most responsible pre-teens I knew. No, her troubled mother had managed to get toys for the younger siblings, but there was no gift for Keisha on Christmas morning. 

 

By that point, I’d seen poverty from too many angles to be a stranger to its tragic consequences, but a child without a present on Christmas? How could this be? Shifting into elf gear, I pulled gift items from the hidden stash every Salvation Army officer keeps handy. This wasn’t going to happen on my watch. 

 

Ah, the memories of people and place, of gifts given and gifts received. It’s been a year when we’ve felt entitled to grumble, and we’ve been drawn too often into the depths of grief, but 2020 has also brought the gift of memory, recalling times when life was simpler, unencumbered by fear of contagion.

 

Bess Streeter Aldrich was a Nebraska writer whose words bring comfort and courage. “Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped itself about you like a shawl. But it warmed more than your body . . . filled it, too, with melody that would last forever. Even though you grew up and found you could never quite bring back the magic feeling of this night, the melody would stay in your heart always – a song for all the years.” 

 

On this, the day after Christmas, I’m clinging tightly to the shawl of memory, and to the gift of song. What is to come? Howard Thurman gives direction: “When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone . . . the work of Christmas begins . . . to bring peace among the people, to make music in the heart.” Today, peace joins memory and music: as perfect watchwords to carry into the new year.  

 

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 25

December 25

It’s a Wonderful Life

 

For many years in our house, it wasn’t “Christmas” until Larry watched  It’s a Wonderful Life,  preferably in black and white. It’s a classic, with actors James Stewart, Donna Reed, and Lionel Barrymore, and a storyline that juxtaposes greed and sacrifice, as well as joy and despair, all set in the midst of Christmas 1945. As young Janie Bailey played “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” for the tenth time, her father George wrestled with suicide, and as his family prayed, a quirky guardian angel named Clarence Odbody appeared, sent to save George and to earn his own wings.

Seventy-five years later, we’ve traded the struggles of George Bailey for our own. Isolation, discouragement, financial worries, and the specter of COVID-19 surround us. Even as we worry, we seek out ways to celebrate the birth of a child who promised a steadfast hope to the world. As we worship in front of the computer screen, feast at lonely tables, or walk through the pristine snow, we sing to Janie’s halting notes, “Veiled in flesh the godhead see, hail the incarnate deity . . light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings . . . glory to the newborn King.”

Another song echoes as well, as Chris Rice prays for us today: “So wrap our injured flesh around you, breathe our air and walk our sod, rob our sin and make us holy, perfect Son of God, welcome to our world.” It’s Christmas, and both wonder and sorrow are our companions this day, as we cling to the promise of Emmanuel, God with us.

 

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

Isaiah 9:6

Images of Advent from the Silver ScreenL December 24

December 24

Christmas Eve on Sesame Street

 

Since I first viewed Big Bird skating across the ice at Rockefeller Center, I’ve wanted Christmas Eve on Sesame Street to be part of my Christmas Eve ritual, just as much as a celebration of the last Salvation Army kettle counted, and a candlelight Christmas Eve worship gathering. Having been retired for a few kettle seasons, we no longer have the sigh of relief when the final bucket was tallied, and this Christmas, in-person gatherings for this sacred night are off limits – thanks, Corona virus. That leaves Christmas Eve on Sesame Street. 

I tried to encourage the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday to watch with me, but even in their willingness to humor Nana, they just didn’t get as excited about it as I did. I love the scenes from New York City, and the sweet retelling of O. Henry’sGift of the Magi,  as Ernie trades his Rubber Duckie to Mr. Hooper for a cigar box for Bert’s paper clip collection, and Bert exchanges his paper clip collection for a soap dish for Rubber Duckie. But my favorite story line is Big Bird’s, as he waits for Santa to arrive. 

Christmas Eve serves as a reminder to me of the power of keeping vigil. As we stand in the stillness of the evening, with a flickering flame of the candle providing a light in the darkness, we wait as did Zechariah and Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph, and Simeon and Anna. Instead of waiting for Santa Claus, we wait as we mark again the coming of Christ to the world. “Come, thou long-expected Jesus, born to set thy people free,” John Wesley pleaded. “Born a child and yet a king.”  

 

And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, 

because there was no room for them in the inn.

Luke 2:6-7

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 22

December 22

Muppet Christmas Carol

 

If Scroogedwas a comical remake of Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, the Muppet Christmas Carolwins the prize for the most whimsical interpretation of the classic story. With Kermit the Frog as Bob Cratchit, the film also features appearances from Miss Piggy (my favorite), Fozzie Bear, the Great Gonzo and Statler and Waldorf (my favorites too).

The actors tell the traditional story of Scrooge and the Cratchit family. As Scrooge plans to evict a number of poor families. Scrooge tells Cratchit, “Let us deal with the eviction notices for tomorrow, Mr. Cratchit.” In response, Cratchit (Kermit) reminds his employer, “Uh, tomorrow’s Christmas, sir,” to which Scrooge replied, “Very well. You may gift wrap them.”

In a recent social media post, a friend lamented the on-going level of judgement seen in so many ways, of the willingness of people to call others out, especially in a year when we have all struggled in so many different ways. Like Scrooge, at times we come close to cheering at the misfortune of others – “you may gift wrap them.” My friend asked, “What purpose does it serve?” Do we feel better when we point out or contribute to the misfortune of another? As the ghosts vividly exhibited to Scrooge, ultimately there is no good purpose to cruelty.

My friend suggests, “Maybe, just maybe if we are not so worried about condemning everyone else for dong things differently than we do, we may just be a whole lot more joyful.” As Scrooge struggled to understand, we do have the choice each day, to reach for compassion rather than judgement, and to deliberately choose joy rather than to wallow in miserable or mean feelings. Choose joy!

 

Ask in my name, according to my will, and he’ll most certainly give it to you. Your joy will be a river overflowing its banks!

John 16:24 (The Message)

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen: December 21

December 21

How the Grinch Stole Christmas

 

If we wanted to give the corona virus a personality in these last days of December 2020, we can find a likely suspect in the movie, How the Grinch Stole Christmas.As we live in the shadow of COVID-19, the virus-Grinch seems to be lurking around every corner, confirming the message of its hit song, “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.” 

In a first similarity, many of us have been challenged by the COVID-15, like the freshman-15 weight gain that so many add during their first year at college. Our experience resonates with the Grinch’s words: “Am I just eating because I’m bored? 

One of the most poignant lines from the film comes from six-year-old Cindy Lou Who as she says, “No one should be alone on Christmas.” We are feeling this so deeply in these days. Connection with other people has been proven again and again to be vital to healthy living, and yet homebound seniors, nursing home residents, and those hospitalized with the virus are isolated from those who love them. Even the Grinch admits, “I could use a little social interaction.”

We need each other. That’s how humans are built. Yet to protect each other, we choose to be separate, at least for a time. We don’t choose isolation out of revenge or hurt, but out of a sense of care for one another. Unlike the movie, we may not get the Christmas Eve happy ending we wish for, but it’s how we’re loving each other in these days. 

 

Paul said, “I long to see you so that I may impart to you some spiritual gift to make you strong – that is, that you and I may be mutually encouraged 

by each other’s faith.

Romans 1:11-12

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 20

December 20

Scrooged

 

The 1988 film Scrooged is a modern take on Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, a story that’s been told countless times on the big screen. Bill Murray stars as Frank Cross, a television executive who had fired staff on Christmas Eve. As happened to Ebenezer Scrooge in the original tale, Murray was visited by a variety of ghosts on Christmas Eve, inviting him to embrace the Christmas spirit. 

Cross explains his epiphany: “It’s Christmas Eve. It’s the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier, we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year we are the people that we always hoped we would be.” 

Like Cross, sometimes we need a little help to see ourselves as we are, but also as we can be. We may find that help when looking into a mirror, or perhaps through the voice of a trusted friend or even a random stranger, whose words work their way through our barriers of cynicism or denial. It also comes as the Spirit of God whispers into our spirit, urging us on to confront our own sinfulness so that we might become the person “that we always hoped we would be.” As Cross discovers, we don’t need to remain the person we’ve been, the good news of the gospel.

 

Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me,

For you are God my Saviour, and my hope is in you all day long.

Psalm 25:4-5

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 19

December 19

Love Actually

 

The movie Love Actually fits in the rom-com genre (romantic comedy for the uninitiated), probably a step or two above the look-alike Hallmark movies of Christmas. Centered around Billy Mack, an aging rock star, the film listens in on the lives of eight couples as they attempt to navigate their relationships during the weeks leading up to Christmas.

I was struck by the words of the British Prime Minister in the film: “Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. . . If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.” 

Just as we see through the lens of a half empty or half full glass, we can also see the world around us through a lens of good or evil, of love or hatred. While I’m fully aware that evil exists, I choose not to be on the lookout for it around every corner. Instead, in these days I’m hanging on to the words of Billy Mack that “love is all around.” No need for it to be dignified or newsworthy – sloppy kisses are just fine with me.

 

Above all, clothe yourselves with love, 

which binds us all together in perfect harmony. 

Colossians 3:14

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 18

 to be  posted

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen December 17

 To be posted

Images for Advent from the Silver Screen - December 16

 To be posted

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 15

 December 15

A Christmas Story

 

My favorite of the Christmas comedy films is A Christmas Story, a tale of Christmas set in the 1940s. The scenes have become cultural icons: Flick’s tongue stuck to a pole (I triple dog dare you), Randy’s pink pajamas from Aunt Clara, the arrival of the leg lamp, the visit to the department store Santa with the amazing slide, and even Christmas dinner at a Chinese restaurant – “Deck the Halls” never sounded so good! 

Watching the movie is a nostalgic experience for those of us of a certain age. We remember the downtown scenes of the big city, the magical displays in store windows, the visit to Santa, and the Christmas parades. We relive those moments every time we watch the film, and now we can even visit the tourist site that’s been developed on West 11^thStreet in Cleveland where the movie was filmed. Open year round, what fun it is to tour the house, and then visit the gift shop for our own leg lamp or an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle.

Warned repeatedly that he was going to shoot his eye out with the longed-for rifle, the adult Ralph reflects on his unfortunate accident with his new rifle: “Oh, life is like that. Sometimes, at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters descend upon us.” Yet sometimes the opposite occurs as well: when all seems most wrong with our world, joy somehow finds its way to us. C.S. Lewis called it being “surprised by joy.”  

 

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.

                                Psalm 30:5

Rubber Duckie and Paper Clips

If my math is correct, it’s been fifty years since I first stood outside the Twin Fair discount store and rang a bell, pleading for donations at a Salvation Army kettle. A great deal has changed since 1970, but some truths remain. Here’s the first one. Say what you want about global warming and climate change, but Western New York and northern Ohio have some mighty cold temperatures during the month of December. 

 

A second truth is that there is a wide disparity between what we might casually say are the “haves” and the “have-nots.” In 2019, Elise Gould of the Economic Policy Institute told congressional leaders that “in recent decades, the vast majority of Americans have experienced disappointing growth in their living standards – despite economic growth that could have easily generated faster gains in their living standards had it been broadly shared.” Speaking for this non-partisan economic think tank, she noted that “the top one percent of household income has grown 229 percent since 1979, far in excess of the slower 46 percent growth  . . . for the bottom ninety percent of households.” And that was pre-OVID-19. 

 

People across the United States are struggling to pay rent or mortgage, to put food on the table, and to survive. Some live in poverty-stricken neighborhoods, while others look just like the middle-class family they’ve been for years, but are no longer. Small business owners, restaurant workers, and those with supporting roles in entertainment and sports are hanging on by a thread. If they cut the thread and look for other work, they may never work again in a job they love. But if they don’t, how long can they hold on? Whether the words of Jesus were meant to be prescriptive or descriptive, in 2020, they are accurate. “You will always have the poor among you” (Matthew 26:11). The economic realities of our day are life-altering.

 

A third truth: there is a generosity of heart among human beings that can take my breath away. Even with scarce resources, corona virus challenges, and all kinds of logistical headaches, compassion is winning this battle.

 

At Catholic Charities in Ashland County, a plan was developed to prepare two hundred “Staying Safe Boxes” for seniors. The response was overwhelming, and deliveries of these care packages are helping older adults remain safe and able to celebrate the holidays in their own homes. 

 

One of the privileges of my many years of Salvation Army involvement was to have a part in providing for presents under the tree for struggling families. It’s what we do at Christmas time. But in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, models of service delivery we’ve depended on for years are too risky. Many centers have opted for drive-through, contactless distribution plans, which means toys, clothing and food have to be pre-packaged, a back-breaking, labor-intensive effort. Having worked in the Canton distribution on Monday and Tuesday, I nearly asked my Facebook friends if 7:45 p.m. was too early to go to bed on Wednesday night (after a day of remote learning with the grands – but that’s another story). 

 

The Salvation Army, Associated Charities, Catholic Charities, United Way, Shop with a Cop, and other organizations depend on the support of others to sustain the work we do. Once in a blue moon, word comes from someone like Joan Kroc or MacKenzie Scott (ex-wife of Amazon’s Jeff Bezos) that rocks the news cycle with a philanthropic gift in the millions of dollars. But more often, it’s the quarter or dollar bill in the red kettle, the gift purchased for a foster child, or the box of goodies delivered to an isolated senior that makes a world of difference. 

 

I’ve witnessed much giving and receiving since those frigid days at Twin Fair. For me, the beauty of Christmas is in the sacrificial gift: the comb and watchchain in O. Henry’s Gift of the Magi, Ernie’s Rubber Duckie and Bert’s paper clip collection in Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, and the canned ham from the Herdman’s charity basket in The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. In the sacrifice we see a reflection of the birth of a babe on a starry night in Bethlehem. Merry Christmas.

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 14

December 14

Meet Me In St. Louis

 

A film that brings a tinge of sadness to Christmas is Meet Me in St. Louis. The story unfolds as a family wrestles with the father’s decision to relocate to New York City, leaving behind their beloved home just as the World’s Fair was to open in St. Louis. 

A lasting reminder of the movie is found in its cherished Christmas song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” Written in 1943 by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane, its words spoke not only of the plot of the movie, but also of the days of World War II in which it was written. Martin’s original lyrics fit the war years perfectly: “Someday soon we all will be together if the fates allow, until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow.” Sound familiar? Years later, the line was changed at Frank Sinatra’s request. He was working on an album entitled, “A Jolly Christmas,” and asked, “Do you think you could jolly up that line for me?” Thus, we now have “hang a shining star upon the highest bough.” 

How our hearts want to “jolly” life up. A world war, a pandemic, a cancer diagnosis or a pink slip – pretending they aren’t real is denial, not faith. Indeed, there are times when all we can seem to do is to “muddle through somehow.” Yet even in the darkness, we can still reach toward light. As John so clearly wrote, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Paul understood what we need to do: 

 

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, 

since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

II Corinthians 4:18

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen December 13

 December 13

Polar Express

 

“On Christmas Eve many years ago I laid quietly in my bed. I did not rustle the sheets, I breathed slowly and silently. I was listening for a sound I was afraid I’d never hear: the sound of Santa’s sleigh bells.”

Thus begins The Polar Express.I’ve loved this magical film since it premiered in 2004, with its singing waiters, cynical hobo, and careening train cars heading towards Glacier Gulch. With Tom Hanks in multiple roles (hero boy, father, conductor, hobo, Scrooge and Santa), the film is a marvel of spirit, character and animation. 

As the conductor reminded the children, “Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can’t see.” As I hear his words, I am reminded of similar words that I’ve repeated so often over the years, written by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in The Little Prince: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

As the hero boy concludes his story-telling, he says this: “At one time most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I’ve grown old the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.”

This film taps into something within us that longs to hear that bell, to see with the heart. Yet all too often we are Thomas with the risen Christ, demanding to see what we cannot, to touch what we cannot. Yet in the sound of the bell, in the silence of the night, and in the care of each other, once again we listen, we hear, and we believe.

 

Then Jesus told him,“You believe because you have seen me. 

Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.”

John 20:29 (NLT)

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen: December 12

December 12

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

 

With this selection of National Lampoon Christmas’s Vacation, I am definitely revealing my interest in Christmas movies best befitting a teen-age boy. Having three sons, I guess it comes with the territory. Can anything redeeming be found in this film?

First, it is a film about family relationships, as bizarre as they may be. We all have a few relatives who lean to the weird side, although not as many as Clark Griswold does (Chevy Chase). Weird or not, when Clark determines to help Cousin Eddie with gifts for his kids, he understands: “This isn’t charity. It’s family.” Or, using the word as the King James Version of the Bible does, “this is charity [love]. It’s family.

These months of pandemic have forced many difficult decisions about family, as we’ve either decided to fully isolate from family members who don’t live in our home, or, as we did after the first few months of separation, formed a “pod” of family so as to provide child care and other needed support. Just as a young family in Bethlehem had to find their way, so too are we each finding our way together.

Here’s the other quote that caught my attention. Ruby Sue, Cousin Eddie’s young daughter, says of the Griswold house: “I love it here. You don’t got to put on your coat to go to the bathroom, and your house is always parked in the same place.” Like Ruby Sue, there are children whose only home is an aging RV, or a tent in a refugee camp. The inequality of resources in our world is real, and children pay a life-altering price. Here we come to the word charity again, as we ask, what might we do to change the world of at least one child? At least in response to that question, Clark Griswold’s heart is in the right place.

 

Then Josephgot up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt…

Matthew 2:14

The Grand Old Piano

The baby grand sits in our living room, a Bush and Lane piano built in Holland, Michigan sometime between 1905 and 1929; the company closed shortly after the stock market crash. Bush and Lane was known for well-made and heavily-built pianos, and its movers can attest to the truth of that statement

 

This particular piano made its home in Wooster, Ohio, with a family whose children and grandchildren learned the musical alphabet on its keys, practicing their scales and classical favorites. Generations likely gathered around it to sing Blue Skies and Yes! We Have No Bananas (20s), Somewhere, Over the Rainbow (30s), You Are My Sunshine andThere’ll Be Bluebirds Over the White Cliffs of Dover (40s), and Elvis’ Love Me Tender and Patti Page’s The Tennessee Waltz (50s).

 

With the advent of television in the 50s, by the next decade, its boxy screen nudged the piano aside to become the centerpiece of the home, as families watched its shows night after night, or crowded around it for the parades and football games of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years Day. As happened in many families, when the children grew up and moved away, the baby grand piano sat idle most of its days, and at some point, the large amount of real estate it claimed in the home seemed too much for an inanimate object that was dusted more often than played.  

 

And so the piano was gifted to a place where its chords could be heard by many, but over the years, it was relegated to a common space where it became a bit battered and bruised. That’s where my path crossed with the Bush and Lane, and when it needed a new home, Ashlanders Bill Schultz and Neil Ebert lovingly maneuvered the grand old girl into our home on Walnut Street, where she nestled in the curve of our bay window. When we moved into a smaller home, I wasn’t sure if there would be a place for the aging piano, but we made room, and she shares our living room with my home office, as most of our “living” is done in the family room – where the TV resides.

 

The piano had been sharing her love of music with a couple of piano students, but the blasted Corona virus put a stop to that, so she’s been sitting quietly, waiting for what might come next in 2020. While she’s only six feet away from where I type this column, I don’t play her nearly enough, and she’s been pretty lonely.

 

Now, through a bit of detective work, the family who first owned this piano has discovered her again, and on Monday, her legs will be detached and she’ll be bundled into a moving van, returning to Wooster and to the hands of the little girl who loved her many years ago. Now, her strings will vibrate once again as she returns home. 

 

I’ve been asked, How can I let her go? I’m sure we’ll have our moments before the movers come, but what I recognize is that I’m not emotionally attached to this particular assortment of wood and wire. The family has offered a replacement spinet piano to us, which will fit much better in our smallish living room, and will allow for a few Christmas carols and some piano lessons “if the fates allow” and COVID-19 leaves us alone. I could have said no, but in this bleak midwinter, being able to bless a stranger with an act of kindness seems to be the right thing to do.

 

The piano and I have spent the last few days saying good-bye. I’ve played songs I’ve composed upon her keys, and choirs have sung along with the great hymns of the faith. I’ve also fumbled through the tricky progressions of Winter Wonderland, sung longingly of white Christmases remembered, and committed to having a “merry little Christmas,” even this year. And finally, “for the road,” I’m channeling Carol Burnett: “I’m so glad we had this time together, just to have a laugh or sing a song . . . [now] comes the time we have to say so long.” Thanks, old girl, for the memories. 

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 11

December 11

Miracle on 34^thStreet

 

One of the older films from our Christmas collection is Miracle on 34^thStreet, a 1947 release. It’s a grand movie, where Kris Kringle takes over for a drunken Santa Claus in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade and then becomes the regular Santa at the iconic department store. Mr. Kringle believes he is the authentic Santa Claus, and because some do not believe him, he is hospitalized and then taken to court to determine if he is correct or not. 

As those around him attempted to determine his true identity, one of my favorite quotes from the movie was uttered by Fred Shellhammer, the head of the toy department. His comment still rings true: “But . . . but maybe he’s only a little crazy, like painters or composers or . . . or some of those men in Washington.”

Kris Kringle speaks wisely: “Oh, Christmas isn’t just a day, it’s a frame of mind and that’s what’s been changing. That’s why I’m glad I’m here, maybe I can do something about it.” Much of life depends upon a frame of mind, and for much of 2020, that frame has been warping, bending, and disintegrating. We’ve wrestled mightily with truth, judged each other harshly, and diminished the pain of others as our frame of mind has become overwhelmed by fear rather than crafted by love. In some ways, we are the drunken Santa in the parade, the cynical lawyer, the unbelieving child. How our frame of mind needs to be aligned with that of Jesus, for as Paul reminded us in Philippians 2, “You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. . . .He gave up his divine privilege, he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being.”

 

The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, 

like a spring whose waters never fail.

Isaiah 59:11

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 10

December 10

Jingle All the Way

 

According to at least one friend, Jingle All the Wayshould be in the running for the worst Christmas movie ever. The plot is a simple one: in an attempt to repair his relationship with his son, a father (Arnold Schwartzenegger) is determined to purchase a Turbo Man action figure for him for Christmas. But it’s Christmas Eve, and every store is sold out of the popular item. The resulting antics are meant to be proof of a father’s love for his son.

The film is reminiscent of the Cabbage Patch doll search of the 1980s. One of our friends was overjoyed when he finally located a Cabbage Patch doll for his young daughter, just days before Christmas. Opening the brightly wrapped package on Christmas morning, the girl’s excitement quickly turned to tears when she discovered the counterfeit nature of the doll, as it had no belly-button. Perhaps our friend should have been skeptical when he purchased the doll for a hefty price – out the trunk of a guy’s car in a New Jersey parking lot. Such is the love of a father for a child.

I’m reminded of words by Salvation Army General John Gowans:

 

If human hearts are often tender,

And human minds can pity know,

If human love is touched with splendor,

And human hands compassion show,

     Then how much more can God our Father in love forgive?

 

Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 

Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?

Matthew 7:11-12

Images for Advent from the Silver Screen: December 9

December 9

White Christmas

 

I tend to get confused about the films Holiday Inn and White Christmas. They are both based around a country inn, yet were produced twelve years apart, the first during World War II and the second in 1954. Both are based on the realization of a dream for a property, first of a place where musical performances revolve around the holidays, and the second, a Vermont inn owned by a retired general.

Both films also feature, “White Christmas,” the Irving Berlin song that’s sold one hundred million copies around the world. Bing Crosby sings with such longing, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know.” 

Advent is a season of dreams. For Zechariah, a dream brought good news and a silenced voice. For Joseph, a dream brought confirmation of a coming birth, and a later dream warned of approaching danger to a holy child. In Advent, we repeat these prophetic dreams, but we also whisper our own dreams, large and small, for white Christmases and peace on earth, for family connections and a world without COVID-19. 

Some of our dreams long nostalgically for what we remember, while others guide our path as we wait with expectation for what is to come. In these days of Advent 2020, when it seems so difficult to dream of what can be post-COVID, I’m claiming the guidance of Langston Hughes: “Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”

 

I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions.

Joel 2:28

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen: December 8

December 8

The Best Christmas Pageant Even

 

One of the traditions of my childhood was the church’s Christmas pageant. It was directed by my Aunt Florence, who used the occasion to sharpen her drill sergeant skills in case Uncle Sam ever called, or so it seemed to a seven year old girl. I got to be a cherub a couple of times, and a part of the angelic multitude, but the year it was my turn to be Mary, they changed the play to some dumb story about a bell.

Our presbyterian pageant never reached the heights of the Oscars, nor did it ever reach the heights of entertainment that the pageant does in the movie The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. Based on the popular book by Barbara Robinson, this forty-eight minute film welcomes The Herdmans to the church’s annual Christmas pageant, and the results are hilarious – and heart-breaking. Upon their first visit to the church, Leroy, Ollie, Glady, Claude, Imogene and Ralph “cleaned out the collection plates, scribbled on the Bibles, and stuck gum all over the pews.” And the pageant rehearsals were just as challenging.

The hilarity includes a fire alarm during the dress rehearsal, an angel in printed bed sheets, and the gift of a ham for the baby Jesus. Heart-breaking scenes include Imogene cradling the baby, and Gladys’ interpretation of the annunciation to the shepherds. Heart-breaking as well were the oft-repeated judgments of the congregation, evidenced by this indictment from the minister’s lips: “Jesus said, ‘suffer the children to come unto me, but I’m not sure he meant the Herdmans.’”

And yet, the words of the pageant’s first-time director are prophetic: “It’s a beautiful story. We should all hear it again.” For as Gladys bursts forth with enthusiasm: ‘Hey! Hey! Unto you a child is born.” 

 

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, 

which is Christ the Lord.

(Luke 2:11)

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen: December 7

December 7

Jingle Jangle

 

Jingle Jangleis a brand new Christmas film already earning its place on my ever-expanding list of holiday favorites. It has the best characteristics of a Christmas movie – exuberant musical numbers, charming children, a villain or two, and a plentiful dose of imagination. I love the vibrancy of the colors as well, as seen in the vivid costumes, the varied tones of skin color, and the emerging shades of hope.   

Jingle Janglealso has its share of memorable quotes. As a younger man, toy inventor Jeronicus Jangle was deeply betrayed by someone he had trusted. He reflects on the gift – and curse – of memory. “I love to remember. But it’s hard to remember. Because remembering won’t bring back those days.” Those who have suffered great tragedy know the truth in his words. Mrs. Johnston (the postwoman) provides some perspective to Jeronicus: “I know about losing things. But the magic isn’t in what you lost; it’s in what you still have. 

Like the best of Christmas movies, Jingle Jangleis the story of hope. “No matter who you are or what you do, the magic lives inside of you.” Substitute the word “hope” for “magic,” and the truth of the gospel shines through. It’s ours to claim, as Paul wrote in Colossians 1:27. “Christ in you, the hope of glory.”

 

Open the eyes of their hearts, and let the light of Your truth flood in. 

Shine Your light on the hope You are calling them to embrace. 

Reveal to them the glorious riches You are preparing as their inheritance.

Ephesians 1:18

Images of Advent from the Silver Screen - December 6

 December 6

On the Twelfth Day

 

One of the worst Christmas movies ever made is On the Twelfth Day, created in 1955. The film’s producer, Wendy Toye, decided to take the song, “The Twelve Days of Christmas” literally, so that Miss Tilly, portrayed by the intrepid Miss Toye, received the cumulative total of gifts of each day from Mr. True Love, amounting to 364 gifts. Remember, five of the days only brought people; the other seven included cows, swans, geese, calling birds, French hens, turtle doves, and that blasted partridge in a pear tree. 

The movie was only twenty-three minutes long, and so stilted that it was hilarious for about the first ten minutes. My favorite highlights are the choir boy eating a candy apple and the cow wearing a bonnet. To my great delight, I found it on youtube. And yes, it was as bad as I remembered it to be. 

I admit, I am a bit like Mr. True Love. I’m not sure that my love language is the giving of gifts, but at Christmas, I do get carried away. The pile of gifts under our tree is generous, as I’ll tell myself, “just one more.” As The Messagedescribes the giving of the Father in Ephesians 2, it is like the way my gift-giving feels to me at Christmas: “immense in mercy and with an incredible love, he [God] embraced us.”

 

Saving is all his idea, and all his work. 

All we do is trust him enough to let him do it. 

It’s God’s gift from start to finish!

Ephesians 2, The Message

Images of Advent from the silver Screen :December 5

December 5

Home Alone

 

I’ve always liked the movie, Home Alone(don’t judge me!), because when it was first released, I could so relate to Kevin. I had a nine year old and seven year old boy who could have been the adorable Kevin (Macauly Culkin). Our grandson, the charming Henry Kyle, could easily be his younger brother. The face, the grin, the sass – yes, even at twenty months, there’s a lot of Kevin in our precious little one.

There’s a great deal of slapstick comedy in this movie, and some improbable turns in the plot, but woven throughout the story is a theme that reaches through the silliness and slapstick: reconciliation. As Kevin’s mother travels cross-country in a truck with the King of Polka (John Candy) and his polka band, she does so because nothing matters to her more than being reunited with her son. 

And then there’s Old Man Marley. Rumored to be the South Bend Shovel Slayer, instead, he is a lonely man estranged from his son, hidden in a church pew to catch a glimpse of his granddaughter as she sings on Christmas Eve. Here, in the midst of Home Alone, is the heart of the gospel. “Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.” 

A phrase in Paul’s writing shows us the way. 

 

All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ,

and has given us the ministry of reconciliation . .

II Corinthians 5:18

How Lovely Are Thy Branches

August Imgard was a twenty-one year old tailor living in Wooster in 1847, homesick for his homeland of Bavaria. He cut down an evergreen, decorated it and began the tradition of Christmas trees in our homes, initially deemed to be the first Christmas tree in the U.S. Alas for Imgard, historians have proved his tree was not the first, but still, in his honor, a large tree is decorated each year in front of his tombstone. 

 

It’s not Imgard’s fault, but the Christmas tree and I have had a challenging relationship over the years. I have a memory of a not so blissful tree-cutting adventure with our two young sons, marked by weeping and gnashing of teeth. The year mom cut the top off the Christmas tree was epic too – duct tape works wonders. We’ve cut our own and gone artificial, survived a mouse and her nest in the tree storage tub, and battled valiantly with tangled strands of lights. While it’s a comforting companion when finished, the decorating process does not match with my skill set.   

 

Still, I’m writing in the glow from our own (fake) tree. Despite much social pressure to do so before Thanksgiving, I’m enough of a holiday purist that I couldn’t crash through that barrier, even in 2020. So on a snowy December afternoon, with Michael Bublé and Frank Sinatra crooning in the background, the deed was completed.

 

I left off the traditional garland this year, but otherwise, the decorations remain an eclectic mix of colors, shapes, and memories. One day, not in COVID-fouled 2020, but perhaps next year, the lovely Madelyn Simone, the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday, and the sweet Emma Belle will join me to carefully unwrap the fragile ornaments. (We’ll give the charming Henry Kyle a pass, since he really likes to throw inanimate objects as far as he can – watch out, Shane Bieber). I’ll tell them of their fathers’ first Christmas, of the tree fashioned from green wagon-wheel macaroni (Dan), and the baby’s first Christmas bulbs that mark their birth. There’s Mitzi the German dachshund, a wooden Donald Duck puppet in honor of my husband’s great vocal talent, and a leg lamp, just because I love that movie! Our tree is filled with memories of days gone by, of ministry extended and received, of friends and family near and far. If I tell them the stories, perhaps when the time comes to send their grandmother’s boxes of decorations to the Goodwill, they’ll dig through the wrinkled tissue paper to find just the right ornament for their tree.

 

It seems morbid to think about my own demise while decorating the Christmas tree. But this is 2020, and little seems strange to us by now. Life under the shadow of the Corona virus has taken a toll on us, and I felt that specter powerfully this afternoon. Some have managed to escape the anxiety, stoically carrying on as though nothing has changed. Others have suffered great loss, in the death of a beloved or in personal illness with lasting physical effects. But for many others, we are now entering the tenth month of living somewhere between a low-level anxiety and a terror of heart. With numbers rising so rapidly, how can we not be changed by this? 

 

And still, it is Advent. The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light. Norman Vincent Peale, known for the power of positive thinking, said this: “Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” I don’t believe in sorcerers or magic wands, but I do believe in the power of Christmas to heal and renew. As Placide Cappeau describes on a holy night, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” 

 

So even though my beloved grandchildren may not be able to safely nestle beneath our tree this year, I still put Donald Duck and the other unbreakable ornaments on the bottom, just in case. We’re muddling through somehow this week, but a star is still shining, even if it seems dimmed, and the highest bough awaits.