The faithful are coming
15/12/2009 4:07:00 p.m.
WE’RE on a countdown to Christmas.
Christians call this time Advent. The word refers to the “coming” of Christ to us. It is derived from two Latin words: “ad” meaning “to”, and “venire” meaning “come”.
There is even a delightful thing called an Advent calendar which is a December wall calendar with only 24 panels, ending on Christmas Eve. With every passing day, you open a wee flap and there’s a picture or a gift of some kind that adds to the excitement of the slow but inexorable march towards Christmas.
When I was at primary school, a friend of mine had an Advent calendar and when I was at his place in December he used to show me the things he had found under the already-opened window-flaps. I was wracked with envy. The days of Advent for me in 2009 are now marked by little glimpses of the human spirit in Wellington. Allow me to peel open a couple.
One day last week, I was with my 88-year-old Mum and we stopped to look at a window display featuring a very kitsch Santa Claus with electrical wiring sticking out of his back, slowly climbing up a long ladder towards a brick chimney on a snow-covered roof.
Step by mechanical step he went up the side of the house. We stayed to find out what he would do when he got to the top. Nothing! Once the top rung was achieved, he then went into reverse and headed straight back down the ladder again. Maybe he was too fat to even think of getting down the chimney. Maybe he had taken Copenhagen to heart and decided to ignore people who burn fossil fuels. We’ll never know, but it was fun.
Another evening, we were doing our weekly shopping at a downtown supermarket and a Sally Army band was playing carols. I saw a woman in a gathered skirt doing her shopping after work. The guys were brassily playing Oh, Come all ye Faithful and she was, with studied ecstasy, singing away to herself as she picked through the frozen pizzas and bags of chips in a long freezer. Was she an angel?
On Thursday, a woman in an ankle-length skirt lost her balance getting off our bus in Bowen Street and fell on her face. She smashed her glasses and was bleeding. The driver and people on the bus immediately went to her aid. Two men staunched her cuts with clean hankies, a woman called for help on a cellphone, people touched her. The injured lady smiled bravely and explained how the black and silver dress she had made had just proved too tight round her calves.
Certainly, there’s bitterness in our world. But people round our town seem good at “keeping the faith” with others. Maybe, there is more to come.
Christians call this time Advent. The word refers to the “coming” of Christ to us. It is derived from two Latin words: “ad” meaning “to”, and “venire” meaning “come”.
There is even a delightful thing called an Advent calendar which is a December wall calendar with only 24 panels, ending on Christmas Eve. With every passing day, you open a wee flap and there’s a picture or a gift of some kind that adds to the excitement of the slow but inexorable march towards Christmas.
When I was at primary school, a friend of mine had an Advent calendar and when I was at his place in December he used to show me the things he had found under the already-opened window-flaps. I was wracked with envy. The days of Advent for me in 2009 are now marked by little glimpses of the human spirit in Wellington. Allow me to peel open a couple.
One day last week, I was with my 88-year-old Mum and we stopped to look at a window display featuring a very kitsch Santa Claus with electrical wiring sticking out of his back, slowly climbing up a long ladder towards a brick chimney on a snow-covered roof.
Step by mechanical step he went up the side of the house. We stayed to find out what he would do when he got to the top. Nothing! Once the top rung was achieved, he then went into reverse and headed straight back down the ladder again. Maybe he was too fat to even think of getting down the chimney. Maybe he had taken Copenhagen to heart and decided to ignore people who burn fossil fuels. We’ll never know, but it was fun.
Another evening, we were doing our weekly shopping at a downtown supermarket and a Sally Army band was playing carols. I saw a woman in a gathered skirt doing her shopping after work. The guys were brassily playing Oh, Come all ye Faithful and she was, with studied ecstasy, singing away to herself as she picked through the frozen pizzas and bags of chips in a long freezer. Was she an angel?
On Thursday, a woman in an ankle-length skirt lost her balance getting off our bus in Bowen Street and fell on her face. She smashed her glasses and was bleeding. The driver and people on the bus immediately went to her aid. Two men staunched her cuts with clean hankies, a woman called for help on a cellphone, people touched her. The injured lady smiled bravely and explained how the black and silver dress she had made had just proved too tight round her calves.
Certainly, there’s bitterness in our world. But people round our town seem good at “keeping the faith” with others. Maybe, there is more to come.
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