Christmas Every Day

In Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, the author presents a Christmas Eve episode:

The stranger conjectured that this chamber connected with that of the Thénardier pair. He was on the point of retreating when his eye fell upon the fireplace—one of those vast tavern chimneys where there is always so little fire when there is any fire at all, and which are so cold to look at. There was no fire in this one, there was not even ashes; but there was something which attracted the stranger’s gaze, nevertheless. It was two tiny children’s shoes, coquettish in shape and unequal in size. The traveller recalled the graceful and immemorial custom in accordance with which children place their shoes in the chimney on Christmas Eve, there to await in the darkness some sparkling gift from their good fairy. Éponine and Azelma had taken care not to omit this, and each of them had set one of her shoes on the hearth.

The traveller bent over them.

The fairy, that is to say, their mother, had already paid her visit, and in each he saw a brand-new and shining ten-sou piece.

The man straightened himself up, and was on the point of withdrawing, when far in, in the darkest corner of the hearth, he caught sight of another object. He looked at it, and recognized a wooden shoe, a frightful shoe of the coarsest description, half dilapidated and all covered with ashes and dried mud. It was Cosette’s sabot. Cosette, with that touching trust of childhood, which can always be deceived yet never discouraged, had placed her shoe on the hearth-stone also.

Hope in a child who has never known anything but despair is a sweet and touching thing.

There was nothing in this wooden shoe.

The stranger fumbled in his waistcoat, bent over and placed a louis d’or in Cosette’s shoe. Then he regained his own chamber with the stealthy tread of a wolf.

In 19th-century France the principal Christmas gift-bringer was “le Petit Jésus” or the Christ Child. As in Germany this figure was not imagined as a baby but as a female form, often angelic. Victor Hugo refers to her as “la bonne fée”, or the good fairy. The above illustration is by the great French illustrator Gustave Doré, entitled “La Nuit de Noël” or “Christmas Eve.”

A visitor to Costa Rica around the beginning of December would note that it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas — lights are hung on houses and in windows, Santa decorations appear, store displays urge consumption and Christmas carols are played on the radio. The law that mandates each employer pay an “aguinaldo” to their employees at the beginning of December means working Costa Ricans have one-twelfth of a year’s pay in their pockets with which to enjoy the holidays.

An important part of the preparation for Christmas is the assembly of the portal or crèche to which many Costa Rican families devote much effort. Some examples of these manger scenes are quite large, often occupying a whole room in the house. The figures of Mary and Joseph are placed there first and the baby Jesus is laid in his manger only on Christmas Eve. Pious families will gather around the crèche and say prayers, after which they may temporarily cover the scene so that they might party and dance.

 On Christmas Eve El Niño will bring presents for the children (though as in many Latin American countries the Christ Child is being gradually displaced as the gift-bringer by Santa Claus), fireworks shows will light up the sky and people will feast. Essential to the meal are tamales, made of corn dough, mashed potatoes, chicken and pork wrapped in plantain leaves and boiled accompanied by eggnog, local alcoholic punches and rum.

The Christmas season is a time for parades such as the Festival of Lights, bull-runs (the Costa-Rican equivalent of bull fights), fairs, choral festivals, dance festivals and rodeos. It all ends on February 2, Candlemas, when processions of candle-holding believers honour the Virgin.

In 1223, Francis of Assisi presented the Nativity story in Greccio in a unique way. The story is told here by Thomas of Celano, a contemporary biographer of Francis. Note, in the last paragraph, the miracles wrought by the manger.

His highest intention, greatest desire, and supreme purpose was to observe the holy gospel in and through all things. He wanted to follow the doctrine and walk in the footsteps of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to do so perfectly, with all vigilance, all zeal, complete desire of the mind, complete fervor of the heart. He remembered Christ’s words through constant meditation and recalled his actions through wise consideration. The humility of the incarnation and the love of the passion so occupied his memory that he scarcely wished to think of anything else. Hence what he did in the third year before the day of his glorious death, in the town called Greccio, on the birthday of our Lord Jesus Christ, should be reverently remembered.

There was in that place a certain man named John, of good reputation and even better life, whom the blessed Francis particularly loved. Noble and honorable in his own land, he had trodden on nobility of the flesh and pursued that of the mind. Around fifteen days before the birthday of Christ Francis sent for this man, as he often did, and said to him, “If you wish to celebrate the approaching feast of the Lord at Greccio, hurry and do what I tell you. I want to do something that will recall the memory of that child who was born in Bethlehem, to see with bodily eyes the inconveniences of his infancy, how he lay in the manger, and how the ox and ass stood by.” Upon hearing this, the good and faithful man hurried to prepare all that the holy man had requested.

The day of joy drew near, the time of exultation approached. The brothers were called from their various places. With glad hearts, the men and women of that place prepared, according to their means, candles and torches to light up that night which has illuminated all the days and years with its glittering star. Finally the holy man of God arrived and, finding everything prepared, saw it and rejoiced.

The manger is ready, hay is brought, the ox and ass are led in. Simplicity is honored there, poverty is exalted, humility is commended and a new Bethlehem, as it were, is made from Greccio. Night is illuminated like the day, delighting men and beasts. The people come and joyfully celebrate the new mystery. The forest resounds with voices and the rocks respond to their rejoicing. The brothers sing, discharging their debt of praise to the Lord, and the whole night echoes with jubilation. The holy man of God stands before the manger full of sighs, consumed by devotion and filled with a marvelous joy. The solemnities of the mass are performed over the manger and the priest experiences a new consolation.

The holy man of God wears a deacon’s vestments, for he was indeed a deacon, and he sings the holy gospel with a sonorous voice. And his voice, a sweet voice, a vehement voice, a clear voice, a sonorous voice, invites all to the highest rewards. Then he preaches mellifluously to the people standing about, telling them about the birth of the poor king and the little city of Bethlehem. Often, too, when he wished to mention Jesus Christ, burning with love he called him “the child of Bethlehem,” and speaking the word “Bethlehem” or “Jesus,” he licked his lips with his tongue, seeming to taste the sweetness of these words.

The gifts of the Almighty are multiplied here and a marvelous vision is seen by a certain virtuous man. For he saw a little child lying lifeless in the manger, and he saw the holy man of God approach and arouse the child as if from a deep sleep. Nor was this an unfitting vision, for in the hearts of many the child Jesus really had been forgotten, but now, by his grace and through his servant Francis, he had been brought back to life and impressed here by loving recollection. Finally the celebration ended and each returned joyfully home.

The hay placed in the manger was kept so that the Lord, multiplying his holy mercy, might bring health to the beasts of burden and other animals. And indeed it happened that many animals throughout the surrounding area were cured of their illnesses by eating this hay. Moreover, women undergoing a long and difficult labor gave birth safely when some of this hay was placed upon them. And a large number of people, male and female alike, with various illnesses, all received the health they desired there. At last a temple of the Lord was consecrated where the manger stood, and over the manger an altar was constructed and a church dedicated in honor of the blessed father Francis, so that, where animals once had eaten hay, henceforth men could gain health in soul and body by eating the flesh of the Lamb without spot or blemish, Jesus Christ our Lord, who through great and indescribable love gave himself to us, living and reigning with the Father and Holy Spirit, God eternally glorious forever and ever, Amen. Alleluia! Alleluia!

 

In this English carol from the 16th century we see the length of the early-modern Christmas season: “From Hallowtide” (November 1) “to Candlemas” (February 2). After that, the season of Lent approaches.

Now have good day, now have good day!
I am Christmas, and now I go my way.

Here have I dwelt with more and less
From Hallowtide till Candlemas,
And now must I from you hence pass;
Now have good day!

I take my leave of king and knight,
And earl, baron, and lady bright;
To wilderness I must me dight;
Now have good day!

And of the good lord of this hall
I take my leave, and of guests all;
Methink I hear Lent doth call;
Now have good day!

In a self-pitying moment in 1897 Santa Claus wrote his “Farewell” which was printed by Life magazine. In it he said that he had hopes of being remembered in Europe but that his imminent demise in America had been brought about by religion:

I die because those who preach the tenderness of Christ to little children say that those parents lie sinfully who mask their own tender impulses under a gentle fable to please their little ones. Santa Claus was always the friend of good and trusting children. That they believed in him was a sign of the goodness of parents who begat them. The children who believed not in him were the children of evil parents, who never cared for the happiness of their offspring …. No discovery of Science has killed me. I was too small a lie to be worthy of the serious warfare of scientific truth. The fine weapons of those who, under the garb of religion, are always looking for wrong in others, have laid me low.  Poor Santa Claus departs this earth, not because he did wrong, but because he could not survive the attacks of those who regard happiness as a sin.

From a late-19th-century American humour magazine.

This illustration from Life, December 1897, entitled “How He Comes” shows Santa adopting to new technology. As well as being pulled by 12 (!) reindeer, Santa has taken to the new-fangled automobile and telephone lines as means of getting presents to children. He also appears to be employed by the postal service.

Christmas

Though doubters doubt and scoffers scoff,
And peace on earth seems still far off
Though learned doctors think they know
The gospel stories are not so;
Though greedy man is greedy still
And competition chokes goodwill,
While rich men sigh and poor men fret,
Dear me! we can’t spare Christmas yet!

Time may do better–maybe not ;
Meanwhile let’s keep the day we’ve got!
On Bethlehem’s birth and Bethlehem’s star
Whate’er our speculations are,
Where’er for us may run the line
Where human merges with divine,
We’re dull indeed if we can’t see
What Christmas feelings ought to be,
And dull again if we can doubt It’s worth our while to bring them out.

“Glory to God: goodwill to men !”
Come! Feel it, show it, give it, then!
Come to us, Christmas, good old day,
Soften us, cheer us, say your say
To hearts which thrift, too eager, keeps In bonds, while fellow-feeling sleeps.
Good Christmas, whom our children love,
We love you, too! Lift us above
Our cares, our fears, our small desires!
Open our hands and stir the fires
Of helpful fellowship within us,
And back to love and kindness win us!
– E. S. Martin., Life, 1897

Like St Nicholas, this new gift-bringer was a judgmental sort of guy. Here he outlines the kind of behaviour he likes or dislikes, and what the result of his findings will be in the morning.