Faith Works 12-29-23
Jeff Gill
A local Christmas tradition that hasn't started yet
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If you have read the last four columns I've done about how we've observed Christmas in Licking County, thank you!
We considered Christmas in 1800, 1844, 1864, and 1944. I know, it would have been nice if I could have found a cool Christmas story from 1804, but the Stadden-Green wedding on Christmas Day in 1800 was too good to pass up. Plus, I didn't see anything in 1804 from the archives that took us where I wanted to go.
Which was: reflecting on what's timeless, and what's changing, and how it might yet change further, about our cultural and religious understanding of the holiday itself. The holiday, or holy day, which is where the term comes from.
The birth of Jesus, or theologically the Incarnation, is the core concept that does not change. Incarnation, or the idea that God incarnate, or "in the flesh" would be with us, let alone in a humble form, worshiped by shepherds and laid in a manger: that's the heart of Christmas, or "the reason for the season."
Other aspects of a traditional (to us) Christmas are more fluid. Early Christmases in Licking County talk about candles in the long nights after the winter solstice, and "decking the halls" with fresh scented greenery like pine garlands and holly branches, not to mention discreet sprigs of mistletoe, but not trees. This seems to be a post-Civil War fashion which the returning soldiers made a common practice, but not until 1865 and after.
Likewise, a tree would be cut and brought in and decorated pretty much altogether, on Christmas Eve, and sometimes removed after Christmas Day or perhaps by some until Jan. 6, Epiphany. They were locally cut on common woodlots, and propped up by makeshift stands.
Historically, it's a recent idea that we can own a purpose made stand with a water reservoir and tree to keep a Christmas tree up most of December; when artificial trees became more common I don't know, but that's more post-World War II. Likewise electric lights, not candles.
Now with mail order pre-lit artificial trees, you can have Christmas decor up for weeks and months, and many do. But that's a change, you see, don't you? And each such change due to technology or cultural adaptations subtly changes our holiday sense.
As a person of faith and a religious teacher, the shift of imperishable decor and LED lights doesn't bother me per se, except for how Christmas has done two odd things: it's backed into November, if not October for some (and certainly in advertising), and it chops off ruthlessly at the end of the 25th.
When I served a parish, I enjoyed saying "now that everyone has given us back Christmas, we can make the most of it!" There's a season of Christmastide in the great tradition, which extends from Dec. 25 through Jan. 6. Even as all the decorations get packed away in deference to a flood of Valentine's retail offerings on Dec. 26, that's when a believer in the Incarnation should be gearing up to move from Advent to Christmastide, to celebrate twelve days at least of Christ's nativity and presence among us.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's enjoyed looking back at other ways to do Christmas, and hopes you have too. Tell him what you'd like to learn about in faith and hope during 2024 at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
Monday, December 18, 2023
Faith Works 12-22-23
Faith Works 12-22-23
Jeff Gill
Christmas not so long ago but very different all the same
___
Christmas in 1944 was by all accounts an unsettled time, both overseas and here in Licking County.
It was the previous December of 1943 that "I'll Be Home for Christmas" had launched onto the scene, embraced both at home and in the trenches as an anthem of heartfelt hope. If you've listened closely to it, you know the wistful twist that it concludes with: "if only in my dreams."
Bing Crosby is better known today for "White Christmas," but it was that new classic in 1943 that by the holiday season of 1944 had become a standard, one which made him a hero to many soldiers, sailors, and Marines. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" took unarticulated thought and gave it voice; it was requested constantly at Bing's USO shows, and during World War II had a profound impact for encouraging everyone who heard it.
They needed it, because even by Christmas 1944, the outcome was not certain. The original hearers of the song had invaded Africa, Sicily, and into southern Italy within the European Theater of Operations, then D-Day the previous summer and to Paris and beyond; in the Pacific after turning back the Japanese Navy at Midway there had been successful invasions of New Guinea and Tarawa, but at a savage cost.
And in Germany and Belgium, on December 16, 1944 there had been the launch of a new Nazi offensive, whose outcome was as yet hard to predict (unless you were Generals George Patton or Tony McAuliffe). As it turns out, the 101st Airborne, 969th Artillery Battalion, and elements of the 10th Armored Division would resist a final Panzerkorps assault on Christmas Day, and it was the last German success in the Battle of the Bulge.
On a personal note, I cannot count the number of stories I've heard over the years from elderly men who were young in 1944, and in the weeks leading up to and following that dire Christmas were on the front lines around Bastogne and in the Ardennes Forest. What all of their stories have in common is one word: cold. Bitter, biting cold. Cold so severe that it likely caused more casualties than weapons, on both sides.
And in those weeks after Christmas, as American troops pressed forward, I have heard stories of how some soldiers died seeking warmth. It seems the US uniform jackets were short, while the Wehrmacht winter uniform included a long greatcoat, one of the most coveted parts of their gear. Some of our soldiers put on those long heavy coats taken from the enemy dead, but at night when only silhouettes and shadows were clearly visible, they would be shot at as hostile troops.
Yet even as knowledge of these deaths spread, some chose to take that risk if they found a German greatcoat: it was that cold.
In that frigid Christmas and New Year season, if only to take their minds off the cold if not for a hundred other reasons, they would dream of being home for Christmas, and wondered if it would be next year.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; this weekend he will help with his father-in-law's funeral, who in later years served in the 101st "Screaming Eagles." Recall your loved ones gone on before us this Christmas to knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
Jeff Gill
Christmas not so long ago but very different all the same
___
Christmas in 1944 was by all accounts an unsettled time, both overseas and here in Licking County.
It was the previous December of 1943 that "I'll Be Home for Christmas" had launched onto the scene, embraced both at home and in the trenches as an anthem of heartfelt hope. If you've listened closely to it, you know the wistful twist that it concludes with: "if only in my dreams."
Bing Crosby is better known today for "White Christmas," but it was that new classic in 1943 that by the holiday season of 1944 had become a standard, one which made him a hero to many soldiers, sailors, and Marines. "I'll Be Home for Christmas" took unarticulated thought and gave it voice; it was requested constantly at Bing's USO shows, and during World War II had a profound impact for encouraging everyone who heard it.
They needed it, because even by Christmas 1944, the outcome was not certain. The original hearers of the song had invaded Africa, Sicily, and into southern Italy within the European Theater of Operations, then D-Day the previous summer and to Paris and beyond; in the Pacific after turning back the Japanese Navy at Midway there had been successful invasions of New Guinea and Tarawa, but at a savage cost.
And in Germany and Belgium, on December 16, 1944 there had been the launch of a new Nazi offensive, whose outcome was as yet hard to predict (unless you were Generals George Patton or Tony McAuliffe). As it turns out, the 101st Airborne, 969th Artillery Battalion, and elements of the 10th Armored Division would resist a final Panzerkorps assault on Christmas Day, and it was the last German success in the Battle of the Bulge.
On a personal note, I cannot count the number of stories I've heard over the years from elderly men who were young in 1944, and in the weeks leading up to and following that dire Christmas were on the front lines around Bastogne and in the Ardennes Forest. What all of their stories have in common is one word: cold. Bitter, biting cold. Cold so severe that it likely caused more casualties than weapons, on both sides.
And in those weeks after Christmas, as American troops pressed forward, I have heard stories of how some soldiers died seeking warmth. It seems the US uniform jackets were short, while the Wehrmacht winter uniform included a long greatcoat, one of the most coveted parts of their gear. Some of our soldiers put on those long heavy coats taken from the enemy dead, but at night when only silhouettes and shadows were clearly visible, they would be shot at as hostile troops.
Yet even as knowledge of these deaths spread, some chose to take that risk if they found a German greatcoat: it was that cold.
In that frigid Christmas and New Year season, if only to take their minds off the cold if not for a hundred other reasons, they would dream of being home for Christmas, and wondered if it would be next year.
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; this weekend he will help with his father-in-law's funeral, who in later years served in the 101st "Screaming Eagles." Recall your loved ones gone on before us this Christmas to knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack77 on Threads.
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