Of all the eves in the year, Christmas Eve has always been the most magical. Celestial beings hold the earth still for a few precious moments, honoring the love and the lesson of the season. The story of the birth of Jesus reminds us of acceptance, of making just a little more room for our brethren in need. And a spirit of goodwill pervades even the most hardened of hearts. There is a light in the midst of this darkest part of the year, as if the universe understood we needed it most right now.
This is one of my Mom’s favorite songs – I learned it on the piano when I was a kid and she favored it at Christmas. Its images of a winter scene filled with angels and golden harps are soothing, its melody simple and sweet. Evocative of a midnight mass, it reminds me of peace and stillness.
I would think of a clearing in a snowy forest, lit by moonlight from an otherwise-dark sky studded with stars. The planets would join in and sparkle, while icy boughs would channel moonlight and set it off like shards of glass. There was a mystical magic to such a scene, a brush with the ever-elusive sublime, a little bit of light in the midst of all the darkness.
When I was young, even the traditionally-upsetting exercise of attending church services was filled with a certain comfort and joy, where happiness and peace over-rode the usual social anxiety. There was something safe in a time when everyone was happy, when it didn’t feel like fights or battles or wars could ever break such a spell.
When the sun and the moon revolved around a winter world, when the snow and the pine trees conspired to make such a beautiful pairing – this was the time of peace and stillness. It was in honor and reverence to whatever you believed in, whatever deity or story or universal being that tied us all together. All our paths led to this midnight clearing, and I believe they still do.
