Redtree Times

Winter Wonder Moons— At West End Gallery

Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you; to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world; to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground; to see that your fellow-men are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy; to own that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life; to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness–are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

— Henry Van Dyke, Keeping Christmas (1905)

I recently came across the short essay that is included in full below titled Keeping Christmas. It makes the case that if we can demonstrate our connection with humanity with acts of decency and a spirit of generosity during the Christmas season, then we can surely maintain that same spirit throughout the year.

We can keep the spirit of Christmas with us all year long.

I don’t think keeping your holiday decorations up all year-round or running Christmas movies nonstop in June and July on certain TV channels would qualify in Van Dyke’s way of thinking. But if by doing so, folks can somehow maintain a higher sense of compassion and generosity of spirit befitting the true holiday season throughout the year, then maybe he would indeed approve.

Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933) was one of those interesting multi-talents that the 19th century spawned. He was a clergyman, a Princeton professor, author, poet, and diplomat, serving as the ambassador to the Netherlands and Luxemborg just before and during WW I. He was a great friend of Mark Twain and officiated the NYC funeral service for Twain in 1910. He wrote the lyrics for Beethoven’s Ode to Joy that became the well-known hymn Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee. He also appeared here a couple of times, most recently for a poem of his, For Katrina’s Sundial, that was to be used an inscription on a sundial on the estate of a wealthy friend. The second verse of this poem has become well known on its own as a poem called Time Is. It was read at the funeral of Princess Diana and used on a London memorial to British victims of the 9/11 attacks, as well as inspiring a 1969 song from the rock group It’s a Beautiful Day.

His life and his work both as a clergyman and a writer centered around serving others. He was one of those people who were able to keep Christmas.

And he never saw one Hallmark movie.

As I said, his short essay is below and is well worth reading. I am also including a performance of Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee, that features Van Dyke’s lyrics. This is lovely and joyful version with the full chorus and audience engaged.

It probably doesn’t fall into the category of little-known holiday songs that I have been trying to maintain here in recent days.

If not, so what? Tough biscuits. I don’t even know if tough biscuits is a real phrase, but it kept me from using a more earthy one.

I am trying to keep Christmas, after all.

And if I– someone who is not adhering to any one religion or creed–can do it, anyone can.

Give it a shot.

ROMANS, xiv, 6: He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord.

It is a good thing to observe Christmas day. The mere marking of times and seasons, when men agree to stop work and make merry together, is a wise and wholesome custom. It helps one to feel the supremacy of the common life over the individual life. It reminds a man to set his own little watch, now and then, by the great clock of humanity which runs on sun time.

But there is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.

Are you willing to forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you; to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world; to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground; to see that your fellow-men are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy; to own that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life; to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness–are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to stoop down and consider the needs and the desires of little children; to remember the weakness and loneliness of people who are growing old; to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough; to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear on their hearts; to try to understand what those who live in the same house with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you; to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you; to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open–are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world–stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death–and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love? Then you can keep Christmas.

And if you keep it for a day, why not always?

But you can never keep it alone.

— Henry Van Dyke, Keeping Christmas (1905)