Christopher Rush

Here we are again, friends.  Another Christmas issue, despite all the hardships, all the setbacks, all the doubts, all the world-shattering, mind-numbing insanities of the age we are together again.  See what good hope can do?  We may end up rechristening our subtitle to “A Journal of Hope.”  Not because many of you out there mention we tend to slant more toward “opinion” than “scholarship,” (which is not a completely fair assessment, considering most “scholarship” is basically “this professor’s/scienty-person’s opinion supported by other professors’/scienty-people’s opinions”), but because we see the world needs more hope now than it has for the past couple of millennia.  We don’t want our 31^st-century offspring to look back upon our day as The Second Dark Age.  We’ll see.  Just a thought.

Without a core group of students contributing to this volume (despite some welcome return authors), I was somewhat trepidatious if this year’s “Christmas issue” would end up being all that Christmassy, or if this would be our “Die Hard is a Christmas movie” issue.  Yet somehow, no doubt through mysterious and wondrous Providence, a fair number of Christmas tidbits did appear, however tenuous the connection (which is about typical for our “Christmas” issues, come to think of it).  Julian Rhodes reminds us it is cough and cold season (despite his remarks about art criticism standards being subjective).  Katie Arthur mentions Christmas briefly in her essay; Professor Zylstra’s timely essay likewise has a patina of Christmastime in it, especially in his conclusion.  Michaela Seaton Romero discusses Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol at some length as well.  Quite exciting how these things are working on this year.  I hope you are enjoying the ride as well.  (The trickiest thing is getting the back-cover previews to come true without having to write them all myself … not that I mind doing that, of course.)

Looking back on the early years (without trying to sound silly, considering the “early years” were four and three years ago, but a gnat’s wing on the spectrum of Time), especially in some of my personal Christmas reflections, it is odd to see how things have changed within even such a short span.  I suppose raising children will do that.  Though certainly most of that is being accomplished by my gracious and overly-self-sacrificial wife.  Certainly some things remain the same: I’m committed to remaining in my jimjams Christmas morning, even if I am the only one.  My parents are visiting again this year, which as always will be nice (and not just because of the excuses to get milkshakes at Chick-fil-A or going out to new restaurants), but even if they feel compelled to get fully dressed before presents time, I will keep that tradition alive as long as possible.  But some things even now don’t seem as important as they did even a few years ago — not the material things, which are increasingly less important each birthday or holiday season (no doubt a sign of my impressively-deepening maturity) — things that seemed to be necessary for each holiday season to be meaningful.

I’m fine if I don’t listen to every Mannheim Steamroller album this year; I’m fine if we don’t watch The Bishop’s Wife this year; I’m fine if we don’t watch It’s a Wonderful Life this century.  It’s possible the annual compunction to do those things was a kind of anti-death-drive response, as if each Christmas had to be meaningful, had to be special, all the right foods had to be eaten, we can’t possibly forget to sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” this time … “just in case.”  But that’s really no way to live, especially around the holydays.  I’ve had (probably less than) my share of “last Christmas” experiences, whether knowingly or not, and trying to make each one special “just in case” does a disservice both to our loved ones (as if cherished memories are not important enough as now) and more importantly Christmas itself.  Christmas should be valued for its own worth, the truly wondrous riches of the Incarnation of our Savior and the beginning of the final phase of God’s redemptive processes throughout Time before even that existed.  Christmas is not important dependent on our experience of it.  And while I don’t want that increasing awareness within me to sound like a resignation of sorts (especially in light of our Death to Cynicism 2015 campaign), it is altogether likely it may be past time to resign ourselves from some things that seemed so important and necessary in our youth that truly are hindrances to delighting in not only this season but our entire experiences abiding in Christ richly as a whole.

This is starting to be a lot more serious than I intended it to be, but tough times demand tough talk, after all.  But as Hamlet says, “Something too much of this.”  You and I most likely originally thought of the Peanuts song when reading the title of this, but it turns out more accurately to refer to the Beach Boys’ lesser-known Christmas ditty “Christmas Time is Here Again,” a far more upbeat and energetic number than “the other one.”  And that should renew our hopes and enthusiasm for the season.  We all have painful memories of what did and/or never would happen at and around Christmases not-so-long-long ago, but for now let’s delight in what the season is and can be, an enjoyable time of traditions new and old, quality time with friends and family and, natch, “the reason for the season.”

Perhaps it’s the old age talking, but some of my seasonal music tastes are changing as well.  Indicated above, I don’t necessarily need to listen to every Mannheim Steamroller album each year, but certainly the first two albums are a “must.”  Their first Christmas album is about as pristine as an album can get, Christmas or no.  It’s not that the more recent albums from there are “disappointing,” but part of what makes the first two so impressive is the counterpoint arrangements (and the fact they are carols, not just “songs of the season”).  While this may seem contradictory in my character, as I have railed quite pronouncedly in the past (and authoritatively, don’t forget that part) against Christiany singers doing their own “modernized arrangements” of classical hymns, it is not the same thing.  Slowing down or speeding up a beloved carol and/or adding a musically-enriching counterpoint or harmony is not in any way the same as adding irrelevant choruses with drastically dissonant chord progressions within the same song.  When Mannheim Steamroller arranges a carol, it gives a new unity to the song, an entirely fresh and invigorating and moving approach to the work as a whole, without deceiving the audience into thinking “oh, good, this is one of my favori— hey, hey!  What is happening here?”  Mannheim Steamroller’s first two Christmas albums, especially, give us a better appreciation for the songs in their care.

Admittedly, that has nothing to do with changing tastes, but I do think my appreciation for these albums to which I’ve been listening for thirty years is deepening.  What is really changing lately is my fondness for other modern-classical Christmas sounds, such as Harry Belafonte’s “Mary’s Boy Child,” the New Christy Minstrels’ first Christmas album (thanks to a chastisement from my father after an earlier Christmas article), and especially the deep, rich tones of Roger Whittaker.  Something about the timbre of his voice, I suppose, evokes memories of gentler, simpler times (real or imagined).  This phenomenon is akin to the Andy Williams Effect, I’m sure.  “Those halcyon days” may not have been all that great at the time, but the nostalgia for them is powerful.  Yes, must be the old age kicking in.

As we look back on 2014, we’ll likely rank it as one of the better years for our family.  I know that sounds horribly selfish, as genocides, race warfare, international conflicts, biological epidemics, and the usual destructions have run rampant throughout the world of late (as is their wont — said without facetiousness).  These truly are heartbreaking, and without trying to sound like I’m bragging, having prayed through Operation World this past year, my heart is becoming even more sensitive to the sorrows and needs of others around the world.  But allow me to say for my family at least we will look back on this year fondly.  It had its hardships, indeed, but nowhere near as challenging or enervating as others in recent memory.

Summer vacation this year saw an actual out-of-town vacation that did not involve driving to Iowa for the first time in over five years.  I spent several weeks not on the computer.  Days and days were spent reading actual books.  Games were played, including approximately four hundred rounds of Go Fish.  I got to play Panzergruppe Guderian and Here I Stand for the first time.  Julia got her first library card, which began a continual life of going to the library as a family.  True, that did have the unfortunate side-effect of me reading so many New 52 TPBs (as lamented earlier in this issue), but on the positive side it has enabled me to get and see dozens of good movies I hadn’t gotten around to yet (especially a number of William Holden, Burt Lancaster, Clint Eastwood, and John Wayne movies — so victory all around, there).  No point for me in going to the library for books, really.  I have my own.

What others planned for evil (notably something ironically named “affordable”), God used for good, enabling us to give up dependency on wholly flawed systems and live by faith far more, which has been both helpful financially as well as psychologically and spiritually vivifying.  This will definitely be a key signifier of the fondness of this year.

Many of these positive elements (vacation, assuaging a potential financial disaster) are owed to, well, God, obviously, as we said, but also to the kindness and generosity of others, who deserve far more than brief mentioning here: thanks especially to Dr. and Mrs. Moore for the use of their Outer Banks vacation home for a very enjoyable week; and Mrs. Kucera’s tireless efforts while we were enjoying our summer vacation, working diligently to find better solutions to the seemingly-inexorable financial/insurance debacle (oh, for the good ol’ days, when “mandated insurance” used to be called “a protection racket” — where is the A-Team when you need them?).  Another important hero for 2014 is our own Mr. Emry, whose tireless efforts in restoring one of my self-crashed computers has enabled me no longer to pack one up and take it to school every day, an enormous boon indeed.

One remarkable aspect of 2014 is we did not grill out one single time.  Usually those are important moments in an enjoyable summer, but we managed to get through a summer without any grilling and still managed to stay comparatively trim and healthy.  We’ll have to work on that for next summer, if the Lord tarries.

Another remarkable aspect of 2014 is not only did I buy a pair of drumsticks for the first time in over a decade (finally found a pair of Neil Peart signature ProMark wood tips! — which means we are basically best friends), but also for the first time in about a decade or so my drum set has seen the light of day (at least, it has been set up and played inside).  I admit freely I am still as rusty as the old set of grilling tongs hanging in the shed, but that is working itself out bit by bit.  I noticed the other day when playing I was channeling my inner Greg Nichols (or at least the Greg Nichols within all of us), mainly in that my ride cymbal stick hand was perpendicular to my arm in the same way he always played in jazz band.  Ah, good times.  Speaking of Greg, out of nowhere recently (California, to be more precise), Greg contacted me on a social networking Web site asking how I was and all that and asking for a replacement copy of the book I wrote back in the halcyon days of 1997-98.  Of course, I was more than delighted not only to hear from Greg but also to fulfill his request.  That series of communications, combined with writing up that exploration of Hold Your Fire has made this a rather reflective conclusion to 2014.

Well, friends, it’s about that time once again.  Jack Benny and Co. are rehearsing their annual allegorical fantasy “Goodbye ’14, Hello ’15” (it’s been too long; we’ll need to add “listening to Jack Benny again” to the schedule for 2015).  Have you any big plans for the New Year?  Having rediscovered in 2014 what snacks taste like, it may be time again to break out the Wii Fit and see if I can’t regain that boyish figure, by which I mean as a boy I always figured I’d play video games my whole life, so I should get back to that.  I have been hearing the call of Final Fantasy VI lately, and it’s awfully difficult to resist that call … though it may be easier depending on what games arrive (if any) for me under the Christmas tree.

I mentioned as well I want to read good books next year.  I plan to finally read Euripides, Aristophanes, Herodotus, and Thucydides, at least (in translation, of course), some more Nero Wolfe adventures, and maybe some Marvel comics again (new to me and some old friends like Operation: Galactic Storm and Age of Apocalypse).  I need to finish some longstanding works as indicated in previous summer reading lists, but we’ll see where the mood takes us.  Keep it fresh, as the kids say.

As you’ve noticed by now, another concerted effort for 2015 is our Death to Cynicism campaign.  Join us, won’t you? as we extirpate cynicism from our lives by walking in faith and caring about the world and living with openhanded and openhearted generosity.  If nothing else in these troubled times, the decrease in gasoline prices alone should remind us (perhaps in Al Michaels’s voice) we should still believe in miracles.  Chesterton reminds us pessimism occurs not when one gets tired of badness but when one gets tired of goodness.  While pessimism and cynicism are not tantamount, the sentiment is still valid.  Let us all eagerly await what wondrous gifts God is gearing up to lavish upon us in 2015!

Yes, the Christmas time feeling is in the air again!

Merry Christmas, friends!  Happy New Year!

See you in 2015!