The Christmas story, as told in the book of Luke, tells of Joseph and Mary traveling from Nazareth to Bethlehem and, while they were there, Mary bringing forth her firstborn son and laying him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn (see Luke 2:4-7; emphasis added).
Each of us, some two thousand years later, plays the role of innkeeper. Each of us decides whether there is room for Him in our hearts and in our lives.
What? you may say. No room for Jesus?
Yet, we may unwittingly, unconsciously leave no room for Him because of the cares of daily living, the very busy-ness of our lives, especially at this hectic season of the year.
If we ignore the needy and less fortunate, the lonely and suffering, the aged and the children, or those whom Jesus referred to as the least among us (see Matthew 25:40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we fail to keep His commandments (see John 14:15), which center in loving and serving God and in loving and serving our neighbor (see Matthew 22:36-40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we forget to take time to ponder and pray and to thank Him for His abundant blessings and tender mercies (see D&C 59:21), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
As the final verse of one of our beloved carols, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," reminds us,
How silently, how silently
The wondrous give is giv'n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav'n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
Our Christmas wish is that our inns will not be too full and that we will allow the dear Christ to enter in.
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Thursday, December 1, 2011
7 A final word
Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving. And now our attention turns to Christmas. We think about and hopefully are grateful for the many gifts in our lives, the tender mercies that come in unexpected moments from our Heavenly Father.
Of course the greatest gift of all is His sending His Son into mortality. What a remarkable gift! That is, after all, the reason we even celebrate Christmas. And it is by far the greatest evidence of His love for us.
But there are daily reminders, the spiritual gifts He sends along the way to lift and bless our own lives and to help us be more profitable servants in lifting and blessing the lives of those about us. Such gifts, the Lord has said, "are given for the benefit of those who love me and keep all my commandments, and him that seeketh so to do” (D&C 46:9).
There are many kinds of gifts. The scriptures mention some common ones found among true disciples of the Savior: faith, testimony, hope, charity, administration, teaching, wisdom, knowledge, the faith to heal, the faith to be healed, the working of miracles, prophecy, the administration of angels, discerning of spirits, tongues, the interpretation of tongues (see, for example, 1 Corinthians 12–14; Moroni 10:8–23; and D&C 46:8–26).
Five marvelous chapters in the scriptures (1 Corinthians 12-14, Moroni 10, and section 46 of the Doctrine and Covenants) contain the most comprehensive listing of spiritual gifts.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1915–1994), on one occasion pointed out some less conspicuous spiritual gifts that we may enjoy: “The gift of asking; the gift of listening; the gift of hearing and using a still, small voice; the gift of being able to weep; the gift of avoiding contention; the gift of being agreeable; the gift of avoiding vain repetition; the gift of seeking that which is righteous; the gift of not passing judgment; the gift of looking to God for guidance; the gift of being a disciple; the gift of caring for others; the gift of being able to ponder; the gift of offering prayer; the gift of bearing mighty testimony; and the gift of receiving the Holy Ghost” (“There Are Many Gifts,” Ensign, Nov. 1987, 20).
And a final gift that is worthy of particular mention this time of year: the loved ones in our lives. Family members. Friends. Associates. Let us during this holiday season and always treasure those relationships that enrich and bless and lift our lives. Let us be grateful for the people who make our journey through life worthwhile.
Of course the greatest gift of all is His sending His Son into mortality. What a remarkable gift! That is, after all, the reason we even celebrate Christmas. And it is by far the greatest evidence of His love for us.
But there are daily reminders, the spiritual gifts He sends along the way to lift and bless our own lives and to help us be more profitable servants in lifting and blessing the lives of those about us. Such gifts, the Lord has said, "are given for the benefit of those who love me and keep all my commandments, and him that seeketh so to do” (D&C 46:9).
There are many kinds of gifts. The scriptures mention some common ones found among true disciples of the Savior: faith, testimony, hope, charity, administration, teaching, wisdom, knowledge, the faith to heal, the faith to be healed, the working of miracles, prophecy, the administration of angels, discerning of spirits, tongues, the interpretation of tongues (see, for example, 1 Corinthians 12–14; Moroni 10:8–23; and D&C 46:8–26).
Five marvelous chapters in the scriptures (1 Corinthians 12-14, Moroni 10, and section 46 of the Doctrine and Covenants) contain the most comprehensive listing of spiritual gifts.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1915–1994), on one occasion pointed out some less conspicuous spiritual gifts that we may enjoy: “The gift of asking; the gift of listening; the gift of hearing and using a still, small voice; the gift of being able to weep; the gift of avoiding contention; the gift of being agreeable; the gift of avoiding vain repetition; the gift of seeking that which is righteous; the gift of not passing judgment; the gift of looking to God for guidance; the gift of being a disciple; the gift of caring for others; the gift of being able to ponder; the gift of offering prayer; the gift of bearing mighty testimony; and the gift of receiving the Holy Ghost” (“There Are Many Gifts,” Ensign, Nov. 1987, 20).
And a final gift that is worthy of particular mention this time of year: the loved ones in our lives. Family members. Friends. Associates. Let us during this holiday season and always treasure those relationships that enrich and bless and lift our lives. Let us be grateful for the people who make our journey through life worthwhile.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
1 Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus
One hundred and twelve years ago arguably the most famous editorial ever to be published in an American newspaper appeared in the New York Sun on September 21, 1897, under the heading “Is There a Santa Claus.” After his death on April 11, 1906, the Sun broke its policy of editorial anonymity to announce that Francis P. Church had written this editorial. We share it here for your delight at this holiday season.
We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
“Dear Editor: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says ‘If you see it in The Sun it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
“Virginia O'Hanlon.
“115 West Ninety fifth Street.”
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
A very merry Christmas to you all. And God bless us everyone.
We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
“Dear Editor: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says ‘If you see it in The Sun it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
“Virginia O'Hanlon.
“115 West Ninety fifth Street.”
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
A very merry Christmas to you all. And God bless us everyone.
7 A final word
We are just ten days away from Christmas. The day we celebrate the birthday of Jesus. A magical time for children and all the young at heart. A holy time for faithful followers of the Savior. A time for family and traditions and joyous music. A season of service and hope and good will. A time, hopefully, when our better natures prevail.
We take this opportunity at this holiday season to wish all of you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. And, as expressed by Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol, "God bless us, every one!"
We take this opportunity at this holiday season to wish all of you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. And, as expressed by Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol, "God bless us, every one!"
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
1 Is there room in the inn?
The Christmas story, as told in the book of Luke, tells of Joseph and Mary traveling from Nazareth to Bethlehem and, while they were there, Mary bringing forth her firstborn son and laying him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn (see Luke 2:4-7; emphasis added).
Each of us, some two thousand years later, plays the role of innkeeper. Each of us decides whether there is room for Him in our hearts and in our lives.
What? you may say. No room for Jesus?
Yet, we may unwittingly, unconsciously leave no room for Him because of the cares of daily living, the very busy-ness of our lives, especially at this hectic season of the year.
If we ignore the needy and less fortunate, the lonely and suffering, the aged and the children, or those whom Jesus referred to as the least among us (see Matthew 25:40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we fail to keep His commandments (see John 14:15), which center in loving and serving God and in loving and serving our neighbor (see Matthew 22:36-40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we forget to take time to ponder and pray and to thank Him for His abundant blessings and tender mercies (see D&C 59:21), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
As the final verse of one of our beloved carols, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," reminds us,
How silently, how silently
The wondrous give is giv'n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav'n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
Our Christmas wish is that our inns will not be too full and that we will allow the dear Christ to enter in.
Each of us, some two thousand years later, plays the role of innkeeper. Each of us decides whether there is room for Him in our hearts and in our lives.
What? you may say. No room for Jesus?
Yet, we may unwittingly, unconsciously leave no room for Him because of the cares of daily living, the very busy-ness of our lives, especially at this hectic season of the year.
If we ignore the needy and less fortunate, the lonely and suffering, the aged and the children, or those whom Jesus referred to as the least among us (see Matthew 25:40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we fail to keep His commandments (see John 14:15), which center in loving and serving God and in loving and serving our neighbor (see Matthew 22:36-40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we forget to take time to ponder and pray and to thank Him for His abundant blessings and tender mercies (see D&C 59:21), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
As the final verse of one of our beloved carols, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," reminds us,
How silently, how silently
The wondrous give is giv'n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav'n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
Our Christmas wish is that our inns will not be too full and that we will allow the dear Christ to enter in.
7 A final word
Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving. And now our attention turns toward Christmas. We think about and hopefully are grateful for the many gifts in our lives, the tender mercies that come in unexpected moments from our Heavenly Father.
Of course the greatest gift of all is His sending His Son into mortality. What a remarkable gift! That is, after all, the reason we even celebrate Christmas. And it is by far the greatest evidence of His love for us.
But there are daily reminders, the spiritual gifts He sends along the way to lift and bless our own lives and to help us be more profitable servants in lifting and blessing the lives of those about us. Such gifts, the Lord has said, "are given for the benefit of those who love me and keep all my commandments, and him that seeketh so to do” (D&C 46:9).
There are many kinds of gifts. The scriptures mention some common ones found among true disciples of the Savior: faith, testimony, hope, charity, administration, teaching, wisdom, knowledge, the faith to heal, the faith to be healed, the working of miracles, prophecy, the administration of angels, discerning of spirits, tongues, the interpretation of tongues (see, for example, 1 Corinthians 12–14; Moroni 10:8–23; and D&C 46:8–26).
Five marvelous chapters in the scriptures (1 Corinthians 12-14, Moroni 10, and section 46 of the Doctrine and Covenants) contain the most comprehensive listing of spiritual gifts.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1915–1994), on one occasion pointed out some less conspicuous spiritual gifts that we may enjoy: “The gift of asking; the gift of listening; the gift of hearing and using a still, small voice; the gift of being able to weep; the gift of avoiding contention; the gift of being agreeable; the gift of avoiding vain repetition; the gift of seeking that which is righteous; the gift of not passing judgment; the gift of looking to God for guidance; the gift of being a disciple; the gift of caring for others; the gift of being able to ponder; the gift of offering prayer; the gift of bearing mighty testimony; and the gift of receiving the Holy Ghost” (“There Are Many Gifts,” Ensign, Nov. 1987, 20).
And a final gift that is worthy of particular mention this time of year: the loved ones in our lives. Family members. Friends. Associates. Let us during this holiday season and always treasure those relationships that enrich and bless and lift our lives. Let us be grateful for the people who make our journey through life worthwhile.
Of course the greatest gift of all is His sending His Son into mortality. What a remarkable gift! That is, after all, the reason we even celebrate Christmas. And it is by far the greatest evidence of His love for us.
But there are daily reminders, the spiritual gifts He sends along the way to lift and bless our own lives and to help us be more profitable servants in lifting and blessing the lives of those about us. Such gifts, the Lord has said, "are given for the benefit of those who love me and keep all my commandments, and him that seeketh so to do” (D&C 46:9).
There are many kinds of gifts. The scriptures mention some common ones found among true disciples of the Savior: faith, testimony, hope, charity, administration, teaching, wisdom, knowledge, the faith to heal, the faith to be healed, the working of miracles, prophecy, the administration of angels, discerning of spirits, tongues, the interpretation of tongues (see, for example, 1 Corinthians 12–14; Moroni 10:8–23; and D&C 46:8–26).
Five marvelous chapters in the scriptures (1 Corinthians 12-14, Moroni 10, and section 46 of the Doctrine and Covenants) contain the most comprehensive listing of spiritual gifts.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1915–1994), on one occasion pointed out some less conspicuous spiritual gifts that we may enjoy: “The gift of asking; the gift of listening; the gift of hearing and using a still, small voice; the gift of being able to weep; the gift of avoiding contention; the gift of being agreeable; the gift of avoiding vain repetition; the gift of seeking that which is righteous; the gift of not passing judgment; the gift of looking to God for guidance; the gift of being a disciple; the gift of caring for others; the gift of being able to ponder; the gift of offering prayer; the gift of bearing mighty testimony; and the gift of receiving the Holy Ghost” (“There Are Many Gifts,” Ensign, Nov. 1987, 20).
And a final gift that is worthy of particular mention this time of year: the loved ones in our lives. Family members. Friends. Associates. Let us during this holiday season and always treasure those relationships that enrich and bless and lift our lives. Let us be grateful for the people who make our journey through life worthwhile.
Monday, December 21, 2009
1 Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus
One hundred and thirteen years ago arguably the most famous editorial ever to be published in an American newspaper appeared in the New York Sun on September 21, 1897, under the heading “Is There a Santa Claus.” After his death on April 11, 1906, the Sun broke its policy of editorial anonymity to announce that Francis P. Church had written this editorial. We share it here for your delight at this holiday season.
We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
“Dear Editor: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says ‘If you see it in The Sun it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
“Virginia O'Hanlon.
“115 West Ninety fifth Street.”
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
A very merry Christmas to you all. And God bless us everyone.
We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
“Dear Editor: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says ‘If you see it in The Sun it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
“Virginia O'Hanlon.
“115 West Ninety fifth Street.”
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
A very merry Christmas to you all. And God bless us everyone.
2 Quote of the week
I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.
— Charles Dickens
— Charles Dickens
7 A final word
The Christmas story, as told in the book of Luke, tells of Joseph and Mary traveling from Nazareth to Bethlehem and, while they were there, Mary bringing forth her firstborn son and laying him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn (see Luke 2:4-7; emphasis added).
Each of us, some two thousand years later, plays the role of innkeeper. Each of us decides whether there is room for Him in our hearts and in our lives.
What? you may say. No room for Jesus?
Yet, we may unwittingly, unconsciously leave no room for Him because of the cares of daily living, the very busy-ness of our lives, especially at this hectic season of the year.
If we ignore the needy and less fortunate, the lonely and suffering, the aged and the children, or those whom Jesus referred to as the least among us (see Matthew 25:40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we fail to keep His commandments (see John 14:15), which center in loving and serving God and in loving and serving our neighbor (see Matthew 22:36-40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we forget to take time to ponder and pray and to thank Him for His abundant blessings and tender mercies (see D&C 59:21), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
As the final verse of one of our beloved carols, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," reminds us,
How silently, how silently
The wondrous give is giv'n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav'n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
Our Christmas wish is that our inns will not be too full and that we will allow the dear Christ to enter in.
Each of us, some two thousand years later, plays the role of innkeeper. Each of us decides whether there is room for Him in our hearts and in our lives.
What? you may say. No room for Jesus?
Yet, we may unwittingly, unconsciously leave no room for Him because of the cares of daily living, the very busy-ness of our lives, especially at this hectic season of the year.
If we ignore the needy and less fortunate, the lonely and suffering, the aged and the children, or those whom Jesus referred to as the least among us (see Matthew 25:40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we fail to keep His commandments (see John 14:15), which center in loving and serving God and in loving and serving our neighbor (see Matthew 22:36-40), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
If we forget to take time to ponder and pray and to thank Him for His abundant blessings and tender mercies (see D&C 59:21), then we are saying we have no room for Him.
As the final verse of one of our beloved carols, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," reminds us,
How silently, how silently
The wondrous give is giv'n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav'n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
Our Christmas wish is that our inns will not be too full and that we will allow the dear Christ to enter in.
Monday, December 22, 2008
1 Joy to the world
A Christmas poem I wrote 26 years ago in Bountiful, Utah, on Sunday, December 5, 1982
Join in the glory-praise:
O joyous, happy, holy time of
Year when love abounds in more-than-else amounts,
Tendered freelier than
Otherwise our narrowed lives allow,
Till in fuller light we see
His redemptive grand designs
Enclose, enfold, and all embrace—
Without compulsion, without guile—
Our little realms and all others
Round about us with the sweetness of His
Love and grace and mercy-goodness
Dealt generously around.
Join in the glory-praise:
O joyous, happy, holy time of
Year when love abounds in more-than-else amounts,
Tendered freelier than
Otherwise our narrowed lives allow,
Till in fuller light we see
His redemptive grand designs
Enclose, enfold, and all embrace—
Without compulsion, without guile—
Our little realms and all others
Round about us with the sweetness of His
Love and grace and mercy-goodness
Dealt generously around.
2 Quote of the week
"What will you and I give for Christmas this year? Let us in our lives give to our Lord and Savior the gift of gratitude by living His teachings and following in His footsteps. It was said of Him that He 'went about doing good' (Acts 10:38). As we do likewise, the Christmas spirit will be ours." (Thomas S. Monson, Ensign, Dec. 1998, 6).
7 A final word
The excerpts below come from the March 2008 issue of the Ensign, which was published after President Gordon B. Hinckley's death. It becomes in effect his final testimony to the world of the Lord and Master he knew and loved so well. We share it here as our Christmas offering to you. And a merry Christmas to you all.
"A little more than 2,000 years ago, the Redeemer of humankind was born in Bethlehem of Judea. . . .
"Jesus was in very deed the great Jehovah of the Old Testament, who left His Father’s royal courts on high and condescended to come to earth as a babe born in the most humble of circumstances. His birth was foretold centuries earlier by Isaiah, who declared prophetically, 'For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace' (Isaiah 9:6). . . .
"We know not all that lies ahead of us. We live in a world of uncertainty. For some, there will be great accomplishment. For others, disappointment. For some, much of rejoicing and gladness, good health, and gracious living. For others, perhaps sickness and a measure of sorrow. We do not know. But one thing we do know. Like the Polar Star in the heavens, regardless of what the future holds, there stands the Redeemer of the world, the Son of God, certain and sure as the anchor of our immortal lives. He is the rock of our salvation, our strength, our comfort, the very focus of our faith.
"In sunshine and in shadow we look to Him, and He is there to assure and smile upon us.
"He is the central focus of our worship. He is the Son of the living God, the Firstborn of the Father, the Only Begotten in the flesh. He is 'risen from the dead, . . . the firstfruits of them that slept' (1 Corinthians 15:20). He is the Lord who shall come again 'to reign on the earth over his people' (D&C 76:63; see also Micah 4:7; Revelation 11:15).
"None so great has ever walked the earth. None other has made a comparable sacrifice or granted a comparable blessing. He is the Savior and the Redeemer of the world. I believe in Him. I declare His divinity without equivocation or compromise. I love Him. I speak the name of Jesus Christ in reverence and wonder. He is our King, our Lord, our Master, the living Christ, who stands on the right hand of His Father. He lives! He lives, resplendent and wonderful, the living Son of the living God" (Gordon B. Hinckley, Ensign, Mar. 2008, 4, 7).
"A little more than 2,000 years ago, the Redeemer of humankind was born in Bethlehem of Judea. . . .
"Jesus was in very deed the great Jehovah of the Old Testament, who left His Father’s royal courts on high and condescended to come to earth as a babe born in the most humble of circumstances. His birth was foretold centuries earlier by Isaiah, who declared prophetically, 'For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace' (Isaiah 9:6). . . .
"We know not all that lies ahead of us. We live in a world of uncertainty. For some, there will be great accomplishment. For others, disappointment. For some, much of rejoicing and gladness, good health, and gracious living. For others, perhaps sickness and a measure of sorrow. We do not know. But one thing we do know. Like the Polar Star in the heavens, regardless of what the future holds, there stands the Redeemer of the world, the Son of God, certain and sure as the anchor of our immortal lives. He is the rock of our salvation, our strength, our comfort, the very focus of our faith.
"In sunshine and in shadow we look to Him, and He is there to assure and smile upon us.
"He is the central focus of our worship. He is the Son of the living God, the Firstborn of the Father, the Only Begotten in the flesh. He is 'risen from the dead, . . . the firstfruits of them that slept' (1 Corinthians 15:20). He is the Lord who shall come again 'to reign on the earth over his people' (D&C 76:63; see also Micah 4:7; Revelation 11:15).
"None so great has ever walked the earth. None other has made a comparable sacrifice or granted a comparable blessing. He is the Savior and the Redeemer of the world. I believe in Him. I declare His divinity without equivocation or compromise. I love Him. I speak the name of Jesus Christ in reverence and wonder. He is our King, our Lord, our Master, the living Christ, who stands on the right hand of His Father. He lives! He lives, resplendent and wonderful, the living Son of the living God" (Gordon B. Hinckley, Ensign, Mar. 2008, 4, 7).
Monday, December 15, 2008
1 Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus
Arguably the most famous editorial ever written appeared over a century ago in the fall of 1897 in the New York Sun. It was written by Francis P. Church on September 21, 1897. We take delight in reprinting its timeless message here.
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
"Dear Editor--I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in The Sun, it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?"
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West Ninety-fifth Street
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the scepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little.
In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no child-like faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
"Dear Editor--I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in The Sun, it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?"
Virginia O'Hanlon
115 West Ninety-fifth Street
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the scepticism of a sceptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's are little.
In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no child-like faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
2 Quote of the week
"This is a glorious time of the year, simple in origin, deep in meaning, beautiful in tradition and custom, rich in memories, and charitable in spirit. It has an attraction to which our hearts are readily drawn. This joyful season brings to each of us a measure of happiness that corresponds to the degree in which we have turned our mind, feelings, and actions to the spirit of Christmas" (Thomas S. Monson, Ensign, Dec. 1998, 2).
Monday, December 8, 2008
1 Christmas Bells
One of America's best known poets, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882), composed a poem, "Christmas Bells," on December 25, 1864, during the dark days of the Civil War. When Longfellow penned the words, now known to us as "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," America was still months away from Lee's surrender to Grant on April 9, 1865. His poem reflected the despair of the war years and ended with a confident hope of triumphant peace.
The poem also flowed from the tragic death of Longfellow's wife Fanny and the crippling injury of his son Charles from war wounds. Henry had married Frances Appleton in 1843, and they settled down in a house overlooking the Charles River in Cambridge, Massachusetts. They were blessed with five children: Charles, Ernest, Alice, Edith, and Allegra.
Tragedy struck both the nation and the Longfellow family in 1861. On April 12 the American Civil War began, and on July 10 Fanny Longfellow was fatally burned in an accident in the library of their home. The day before her accident, she recorded in her journal: "We are all sighing for the good sea breeze instead of this stifling land one filled with dust. Poor Allegra is very droopy with heat, and Edie has to get her hair in a net to free her neck from the weight."
After trimming some of seven-year-old Edith's beautiful curls, Fanny decided to preserve the clippings in sealing wax. Melting a bar of sealing wax with a candle, a few drops fell unnoticed upon her dress. The longed for sea breeze gusted through the window, igniting the material of Fanny's dress—immediately wrapping her in flames. She ran to Henry's study in the next room, where he frantically attempted to extinguish the flames with a nearby but undersized throw rug. Failing to stop the fire with the rug, he tried to smother the flames by throwing his arms around Frances—severely burning his face, arms, and hands. Fanny died the next morning. Too ill from his burns and grief, Henry was not able to attend her funeral. The full beard that Longfellow wore thereafter arose from his inability to shave after this tragedy.
The first Christmas after Fanny's death, Longfellow wrote in 1861, "How inexpressibly sad are all holidays."
A year after the incident, he wrote, "I can make no record of these days. Better leave them wrapped in silence. Perhaps someday God will give me peace." Longfellow's journal entry for December 25, 1862, reads: "'A merry Christmas' say the children, but that is no more for me."
Almost a year later, Longfellow received word that his oldest son Charles, a lieutenant in the Army of the Potomac, had been severely wounded with a bullet passing under his shoulder blades. The Christmas of 1863 was silent in Longfellow's journal.
Finally, on Christmas Day 1864, he wrote the words of the poem, "Christmas Bells." The reelection of Abraham Lincoln or the hoped for end of the terrible war may have been the occasion for the poem. The entire poem, including verses 4 and 5 that referred specifically to the Civil War and did not become a part of the carol, is shared here:
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
Then from each black accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men!"
The poem also flowed from the tragic death of Longfellow's wife Fanny and the crippling injury of his son Charles from war wounds. Henry had married Frances Appleton in 1843, and they settled down in a house overlooking the Charles River in Cambridge, Massachusetts. They were blessed with five children: Charles, Ernest, Alice, Edith, and Allegra.
Tragedy struck both the nation and the Longfellow family in 1861. On April 12 the American Civil War began, and on July 10 Fanny Longfellow was fatally burned in an accident in the library of their home. The day before her accident, she recorded in her journal: "We are all sighing for the good sea breeze instead of this stifling land one filled with dust. Poor Allegra is very droopy with heat, and Edie has to get her hair in a net to free her neck from the weight."
After trimming some of seven-year-old Edith's beautiful curls, Fanny decided to preserve the clippings in sealing wax. Melting a bar of sealing wax with a candle, a few drops fell unnoticed upon her dress. The longed for sea breeze gusted through the window, igniting the material of Fanny's dress—immediately wrapping her in flames. She ran to Henry's study in the next room, where he frantically attempted to extinguish the flames with a nearby but undersized throw rug. Failing to stop the fire with the rug, he tried to smother the flames by throwing his arms around Frances—severely burning his face, arms, and hands. Fanny died the next morning. Too ill from his burns and grief, Henry was not able to attend her funeral. The full beard that Longfellow wore thereafter arose from his inability to shave after this tragedy.
The first Christmas after Fanny's death, Longfellow wrote in 1861, "How inexpressibly sad are all holidays."
A year after the incident, he wrote, "I can make no record of these days. Better leave them wrapped in silence. Perhaps someday God will give me peace." Longfellow's journal entry for December 25, 1862, reads: "'A merry Christmas' say the children, but that is no more for me."
Almost a year later, Longfellow received word that his oldest son Charles, a lieutenant in the Army of the Potomac, had been severely wounded with a bullet passing under his shoulder blades. The Christmas of 1863 was silent in Longfellow's journal.
Finally, on Christmas Day 1864, he wrote the words of the poem, "Christmas Bells." The reelection of Abraham Lincoln or the hoped for end of the terrible war may have been the occasion for the poem. The entire poem, including verses 4 and 5 that referred specifically to the Civil War and did not become a part of the carol, is shared here:
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
Then from each black accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men!"
2 Quote of the week
"I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, . . . as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."
Charles Dickens (1812-1870) in A Christmas Carol
Charles Dickens (1812-1870) in A Christmas Carol
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