The Press MONDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1956. Christmas

Press, Volume XCIV, Issue 28159, 24 December 1956, Page 10

The Press MONDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1956. Christmas

There is something within most of us that never grows up—something perennially youthful and fresh, something that enables us, when we let it. to relish simple pleasures and recall half-forgotten joys. It is that quality which makes Christmas a happy season for children and adults alike. For Christmas is essentially the festival of the child. The event it commemorates had nothing of pomposity or grandeur, it was full of the natural sweetness of life, unsullied and impregnable. The birth of Christ marked the beginning of a new human family, a complete little society of earthly father, mother, and child, poor in worldly possessions but rich in a common tie of love. Thus it is fitting that at Christmas our thoughts should be of our homes and families. Though we may not entirely forget our mundane cares, we may well measure them afresh against the true values of the family and the home, from which springs all that is best in our national life and in our civilisation. Christmas, too, has become the time when we remember friends, present ;.nd absent; when we know most keenly the joy of giving and the lesser joy of receiving; when the young look forward confidently to the fulfilment of their dreams, and the old review the retrospect of years. It is a time for the kindly mingling of all sorts of people, customarily separated by inhibitions or social barriers; a time for memories; and. if we but think of it, a time for rededication.

Nothing is more striking in our English heritage than the manner in which the traditions and trappings of Christmas have been transferred from the Homeland to the Antipodes. It has been no insignificant feat to translate the traditional Christmas celebrations from their wintry setting in the northern hemisphere, and to retain their principal characteristics, under the burning summer sun. The designers of Christmas entertainment expend their skill and ingenuity to evoke thoughts of frost and snow; and what child is so brash as to suggest that Santa Claus may be too warmly clad? On Christmas Day, without heed of possible consequences, thousands of New Zealanders will consume vast quantities of food that is obviously unsuitable for midsummer dining. And, before that, the children will have emptied stockings blissfully hung before chimneys down which no mortal man could pass. In cathedral and church, the splendour of Christmas music is again revived, and the quiet of suburban streets yields to the humbler efforts of itinerant carol singers. When the bells ring out in noisy clamour, and choir and organ unite to greet the Christmas morning, we in this fortunate country should spare a thought for those in other lands who cannot celebrate the day as they would wish. It is a time to give thanks for the freedom which we too often take for granted, and for a new resolve to be worthy of it.