Collective Disjointment: a Rex Murphy Christmas

It's been a great Christmas holiday. Jenn and I enjoyed Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in Caronport with my parents, sisters, aunt, uncle, and our soon-to-be-brother-in-law, and then jetted off to Montreal for Boxing Day until New Year's Eve. It's such a nice time to slow down.


One of the funniest things this year has been running into Rex Murphy in the Toronto airport! I've always enjoyed his "Point of View" segments on the news, and his radio show. I'd recognize that face anywhere. I joked to Jenn (after we were out of ear-shot, of course), "Yep. He's definitely as ugly in person as on TV!"  He's the third sort-of-celebrity I've seen in an airport. So far, Regina's mayor, Pat Fiaco, Brent Butt from Corner Gas, and now Rex Murphy. 

It's been a lot of fun here in Montreal with Jenn's family. Lots of relaxing, eating, visiting, music, and napping. All things that make a holiday festive and restive.

I think one of my New Year's resolutions is going to be getting back to exegetical posts...

Firstborns and Christmas Lights

Tonight on a walk to deliver some popcorn to my wife who is babysitting some fun little kids, I saw four little girls--all sisters--busily and happily clearing away the freshly fallen snow from an elderly couple's driveway. They were outfitted in matching pink wool toques, each with a snow shovel in hand, and singing "We Want to See Jesus Lifted High." I can't think of a nicer place to be during the holidays than Caronport. After the semester is done, and exams are over, and many of the town's inhabitants have flown wherever home is for the Christmas break, there is a holy quiet that descends here. Especially on nights like these, blanketed under fresh snow.

Caronport is nicely lit up now with Christmas lights. As I look out at all the light-adorned houses, my thoughts wonder to the Exodus. Enslaved Israel prepared their houses with blood to ward off the plague of death threatening their firstborns as they anticipated their salvation. We decorate not to save a firstborn, but because we were saved by one. Our own plague of death has been warded off by a little baby who used his own blood to save us.

"It's the most edible time of the year!"

Christmas is here in our little abode. On Friday evening, after Jenn finished a particularly nasty exam, we celebrated by zipping into Moose Jaw to pick up a Tree. We also grabbed all sorts of things to put on it — most of which are edible!

Back before I was married, I lived in Regina with some good friends, and each Christmas we decorated the tree with lots of chocolate, candy canes, and other edibles that make the tree both shiny, because of the tinny wrapping, and interactive, because people can snack from the tree throughout the holidays.

That tradition has transfered into our keeping. Last night my little sisters came over to help us decorate the tree, drink some eggnog, and watch some Smallville. Just a couple of weeks until the big meals and get-togethers! Can’t wait!

Joyeux Noël and the Death of War

Since I wasn't able to attend a memorial service this year, I decided to observe Remembrance Day by watching a couple of movies that bear witness to the sacrifice and suffering of those who fought on behalf of their countries. One of these movies was Joyeux Noël. This film was particularly good at portraying the hardship and anguish of soldiers in the trenches of World War I. In this story, three generals -- German, French, and Scottish -- along with their units, are brought together by the celebration of Christmas.

In the dreary dark of Christmas Eve, a German officer who before the war had been a vocalist in Berlin, sang "Stille Nacht" (Silent Night). Close by in their own trenches, the French and the Scots listened to the hopeful song of the German singer. The Scots joined in with their bagpipes, and soon, all the soldiers left their trenches to meet one another in peace on the battle field.

There they shared stories of home and tears for loss they had already incurred thus far in battle. Many even exchanged addresses with the intent of taking up friendship again once the mess of war had ended. At the high point of this meeting, the Scottish priest led the who assembly in the Christmas midnight mas. Participating together, they were no longer enemies, but fellow men who were all here by the same unfortunate circumstances, forced into combat by the will of their homelands. This was a really striking picture of peace that can come by love in Christ -- even in the midst of war.

During the mas, the artillery fire booming in the distance reminded all that though they might forget war in the moment, the war had certainly not forgotten them. At this, they exchanged greetings of "Merry Christmas" and "good luck," and returned to their trenches.

One of the most memorable scenes is one in which the German singer-now-soldier confronts his general, asking if they must go on to kill again now that they had truly come to know those they had regarded enemies. He said, "To die tomorrow is even more absurd than to die yesterday." How foolish it would seem, having now experienced the peace of Christmas Eve, to die by the hands that offered friendship only the night before?

This war was to be the War to End All Wars. But really, going to war can't truly cause the end of war. The only thing capable of ending war, as was so grandly demonstrated in Joyeux Noël, is the peace that comes through love in Christ. Let love be the foreign policy that guides nations in their dealings with one another. Let love be the 'war' that is fought, and it really will be the War to end all others.