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zoetheSanta came into our office this morning. He ws ho-ho-hoing his way through the building, after spending rush hour standing on the corner outside of Severance Hall and brightening everyone's commute with a jolly wave.
He didn't bring prezzies. He didn't even bring candy canes.
And yet he filled with joy the hearts of three women who are all much too grown-up for such things. Really.
Christine, the KNOCK-OUT lawyer, actually hopped up and down and clapped her hands in glee. In her perfect make-up, short-skirted power suit, and elegantly coifed hair.
I look upon those who would steal such pleasures from the world with sadness and impatience.
Poor Santa is under attack from all sides. To the fundamentalist Christians, he is a reminder of the pagan roots of their usurped holiday, and they would just as soon he went away. To the fundamentalist non-Christians, he is a pervasive symbol of a holiday that is deplorably central to our culture--because no matter how much we try to call it winter holiday, it's still Christmas time.
Most of America, typically, is still confused as to why there is so much fuss about a happy guy in a red suit. He makes us feel good, just by his presence--even without presents. He laughs in the face of stress and sadness, he enfolds us in the warmth of his arms. He reminds us that this season is about magic and miracles, whether you celebrate the birth of a savior, the return of the sun, the blessing of a light that held true long past when it should. We are coming through the darkness, and looking to the future. That in the midst of darkness a jolly voice can burst forth in a deep and resonant laugh, that is perhaps the greatest miracle of all.
He didn't bring prezzies. He didn't even bring candy canes.
And yet he filled with joy the hearts of three women who are all much too grown-up for such things. Really.
Christine, the KNOCK-OUT lawyer, actually hopped up and down and clapped her hands in glee. In her perfect make-up, short-skirted power suit, and elegantly coifed hair.
I look upon those who would steal such pleasures from the world with sadness and impatience.
Poor Santa is under attack from all sides. To the fundamentalist Christians, he is a reminder of the pagan roots of their usurped holiday, and they would just as soon he went away. To the fundamentalist non-Christians, he is a pervasive symbol of a holiday that is deplorably central to our culture--because no matter how much we try to call it winter holiday, it's still Christmas time.
Most of America, typically, is still confused as to why there is so much fuss about a happy guy in a red suit. He makes us feel good, just by his presence--even without presents. He laughs in the face of stress and sadness, he enfolds us in the warmth of his arms. He reminds us that this season is about magic and miracles, whether you celebrate the birth of a savior, the return of the sun, the blessing of a light that held true long past when it should. We are coming through the darkness, and looking to the future. That in the midst of darkness a jolly voice can burst forth in a deep and resonant laugh, that is perhaps the greatest miracle of all.
