Mary KennyFor many people Christmas is a time of “remembering a past we can never recapture, of family and friends departed this world”, writes Mary Kenny
Christmas is, or should be, a time for joy: ‘peace on earth, goodwill to all mankind’ is the angelic message.
But for many people it is a time of sadness: of remembering a past we can never recapture, of family and friends departed this world, sometimes in heartbreaking circumstances. And our troubled world – particularly of the Middle East where we have seen so much suffering and cruelty – seems to be a mirror of such sadness.
Address book
For older people, it can be a mournful procedure going through an address book at this time, noting how many names of those we have cherished are no longer with us. It brings to mind Thomas Moore’s nostalgic, sad and beautiful lament in The Light of Other Days:
“When I remember all/The friends so linked together,/I’ve seen around me fall/Like leaves in wintry weather/I feel like one who treads along/Some banquet-hall deserted,/Whose lights are fled/Whose garlands dead/And all but he departed!”
And so he finishes: “Sad Memory brings the light/Of other days around me.” Poor Tom Moore and his wife Bessy had occasion for many sad reflections: all their children predeceased them. Their first daughter, Barbara, died aged 6, and they were devastated with grief. Their second daughter, Anastasia, died just before her 16th birthday. Their two sons died abroad, in Algeria and India.
Hardships
There were also many financial hardships. And towards the end of his life, Tom developed dementia.
Yet he was cared for, by Bessy, and by loyal friends, and he kept faith until the end.
In the face of the difficulties and challenges faced by so many and so much of humanity, we must still wish one another ‘Merry Christmas’. That’s why the carol I like best is ‘God rest you merry, gentlemen’.
An alabaster treasure
The British Museum has just acquired a stunning alabaster Virgin and Child statue dating from 1350 whose back story is such a witness to history. It was crafted in the English midlands by a ‘highly skilled’ unknown artist, at a time when devotion to Our Lady was very strong in England.
Then came Henry VIII with the dissolution of the monasteries and the destruction of many beautiful holy things. The statue somehow escaped the worst depredations of the Reformation and it was brought to safety to the monastery of St Truiden in Belgium. Then the French Revolution again destroyed monasteries, but the statue was protected. It survived through the centuries’ vicissitudes of war and upheaval.
The statue shows Our Lady as Queen of Heaven with the Christ-child holding an orb, and the museum’s mediaevalist calls it a “marvellous and amazing thing…when you think of what it has so endured, it is so moving.” It is decoratively intact – except that some parts have been worn away by kissing from the faithful. Curator Lloyd de Beer (who is also a specialist in the Jesuit treasures of Campion Hall, Oxford) called it a “great Christmas present” for all visitors to the famed London museum.
The logistics of Christmas dinner
I am so grateful to be invited for Christmas day by a dear cousin who will do all the cooking, the preparations, and very probably, the washing-up, even though a guest must always offer to assist. Having cooked Christmas dinner for most of the 40 years of my married life, I know well what a responsibility it can be.
Getting a big meal on the table is akin to putting on an operatic production. The timing must be perfectly calibrated. All the participants (and ingredients) have to be lined up to appear with correct order and synchronicity and close attention paid to content, presentation and incidental details.
It is no coincidence that cooks, in novels – and even on TV cooking shows – are notoriously bad-tempered and given to diva-like outbursts. Putting up a big meal is a nerve-wracking task and kitchens, like chefs, can get hot and bothered.
I once cooked a Christmas dinner for 12 people, and most of them seemed to be going through some kind of personal crisis – marriage breakdown, cancer, money problems – so that half of them were in tears by the end of the repast. We can hardly be surprised that strong drink may be resorted to (which always makes any crisis worse!)
But what a joy just to be a guest where you may make some small contribution by way of a gift or two, but you have no responsibility for forgetting the brandy butter (as I have), the bread sauce (omitting bread sauce with fowl was described by my late husband as “grounds for divorce”) or ensuring that the ham is well cooked while the Brussels sprouts are modishly al dente. And knowing my lovely cousin and her husband, everything will be perfectly planned and executed, and what a gift of hospitality that is.