Showing posts with label Bethlehem star. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bethlehem star. Show all posts

Monday, December 21, 2020

December 21: Winter Stolstice, Bethlehem Star, "A Christmas Carol"

 Greetings, stargazers!

On this winter solstice, for the first time in 800 years, Jupiter and Saturn joined together in the night sky to create what people are calling the Bethlehem star.  A bright eye in the heavens.  To put that into perspective, the last time these two planets were this close to each other, the restoration of the Cathedral of Chartres was completed after it was destroyed by fire in 1194.  Francis of Assisi handed over the governance of the Franciscan Order to Brother Peter Catani.  The world was 100 years away from the Black Plague, which killed one third of the population of Europe.  The Spanish Inquisition began in 1230, and Marco Polo traveled to China in 1270.  The foundation stone of Salisbury Cathedral was laid.  And Christmas Day, 1220, fell on a Wednesday.

I had planned to witness this celestial event.  However, being a resident of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, the skies do not always cooperate.  Heavy snow clouds tonight.  No stars or moon visible.  The Star of Bethlehem remains hidden from this particular magi.  

Yet, it was a magical evening.  The sun disappeared around 5 p.m.  At 7 p.m., a group of my actor friends got together for a dramatic reading of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, an adaptation by James Hutchison.  It was a fundraiser that I organized for local homeless shelters.  And it was glorious.  

Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors, and my mother first read me A Christmas Carol when I was about six or seven years old.  So, as I sat at my laptop and listened to the performance, it was almost like sitting next to my mother as she read, "Marley was dead to begin with with  . . ."

I spent most of the day in preparation for this program, sending out emails to the actors and presenters.  Updating promotional information.  Writing introductions.  By the time Jupiter and Saturn were dancing, the reading had begun.  

For most of my adult life, I worked in the healthcare industry.  It was work that I enjoyed, and it provided my family with insurance and a steady income.  However, it was not work that fed my creative soul.  Now, working for the library, I'm able to produce staged readings of plays, organize poetry and musical events.  Last Monday, I spent a few hours composing a poem for a Christmas video.  And I'm getting PAID to do all of it.  Paid to create art.

That is an amazing privilege.  

Here are a few snapshots of my day:

  • Today was my beautiful daughter's last day of quarantine.  She is now considered "recovered" from COVID, even though she still can smell or taste nothing.
  • My beautiful actor friends gave a tremendous performance of A Christmas Carol, and it was viewed by people as far away as Australia.
  • I sent a recording of my annual Christmas essay to the local Public Radio station.  I hope there is some beauty in it. 
  • After the performance was over, I was exhausted.  I changed into my pajamas, popped the beautiful movie Love Actually into the Blu-ray player, sat on my couch, and promptly fell asleep.  I woke up at 2 a.m. and finished this blog post.
There is grace at work in my life.  A pastor friend defines grace as evidence of God's ridiculously extravagant love for us.  We don't earn grace.  It's simply given to us.

On this shortest day and longest night of the year, with Saturn and Jupiter embracing in the heavens, Saint Marty was the recipient of God's extravagant love.  For that miracle, he gives thanks.


Tuesday, December 25, 2012

December 24: The Good Days, Christmas Eve, Let the Fun Begin

Once upon a time--of all the good days in the year,on Christmas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house...

Yes, I am back where I began on this year-long journey with Dickens' A Christmas Carol.  It is Christmas Eve, and Scrooge is sitting at his desk, pre-Marley and pre-Ghosts of Christmas.  Bob Cratchit is freezing in his little office corner, and Fred, Scrooge's nephew, has just extended his annual dinner invitation to his uncle.  Yes, the stage is set.

In about an hour's time, I will be heading to church for the first of two worship services.  At 8 p.m., I will be at the piano, playing for the children's program.  Three months of rehearsals all boil down to fifteen minutes tonight.  It will be over before a single angel has a chance to tune a harp.

I am a little tired of Christmas music at the moment.  I have been practicing like crazy this past weekend.  This afternoon, I went to the church and practiced one last time.  I feel prepared, but I've been doing Christmas programs long enough to know that something is going to go wrong.  It always does.  A little girl angel will lift her skirt.  A little boy angel will scratch himself in an inappropriate place.  I will play a song in the wrong key.  Mistakes will be made.

But, at the end of the night, candles will be lit; the organist will play "Silent Night"; and we will raise our voices and eyes to heaven, looking for the light of the Bethlehem star.

That is Saint Marty's Christmas Eve.  No Marley.  No gruel.  No Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, or Future.  Christmas will come quietly, like fresh, soft snow.  Like a sleeping Infant.

Mistakes will be made tonight