Christmas Eve Celebration

A Dialogue

Schleiermacher, Tice

• Publisher: Cascade Books
• Year: 2010
• ISBN:
  9781621891109
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

This book is about the meanings of Christmas. It makes for a fine Christmas present--written in popular, poetic style--and is a literary classic. This little dialogue shared by women, men and children on Christmas Eve is the jewel in the crown of Schleiermacher's theological writings. It features celebrations among close friends in a traditionally decorated home--stories told by four women, doctrinal interpretations offered by four men. All these events are shared in dialogue, accompanied by singing, activities, and expressions of two young children, and exchange of homemade gifts. Beautifully written and full of evocative images, it is in effect a drama, lending itself to being read aloud. For the first time the two original German editions (1806 and 1826) can be handily compared, though without interrupting smooth reading of the final edition from start to finish. It will serve as a brief piece for reflection by students from high school through graduate school.

1

Christmas Eve

The friendly drawing room was all decked out for Christmas Eve. Flowers had been brought to it from every window ledge in the house. The curtains were kept tied up to let the glistening snow give testimony to the season. Drawings and paintings associated with the holy festival adorned the walls, some a gift of the lady of the household to her husband. The many lanterns hung high above spread a festive light all round, which yet seemed to play tricks with curiosity. Indeed, familiar things showed up clearly enough, but only by unhurried and close attention could one distinctly recognize and duly appreciate1 what was strange or new there. So had the gay and thoughtful Ernestine arranged it all, that only gradually could one’s impatience, aroused half in jest, half in earnest, be satisfied. For still a while, the wee, brightly colored gifts lying about remained carpeted in shimmer.

This time everyone in the intimate circle that was to gather there—the men and women, and the children too—had entrusted to her the task of gathering together all that they had brought for one another’s delight, thus grandly conjoining things that would look undistinguished by themselves. Now she had finished. It was as if one were in a winter garden, where one must look carefully among the evergreen shrubs to find the tiny blossoms of galanthus2 and violets under blanket of snow or the protective covering of moss. Here each thing was bordered with ivy, myrtle, and amaranthus, and the loveliest things lay hidden under white coverlets or gaily colored cloths, whereas the larger gifts were scattered about the room or had to be sought out under the tables. The initials of each person were inscribed on the wrappings3 with trifles to eat, and each was then at liberty to try to find out4 who had given the particular presents.

The whole group waited in the adjoining room, their mirth piqued by impatience. Someone would pretend to guess or to betray what a certain gift was going to be, and would unmistakably insinuate its relation to some minor foible or habit, some funny incident, or some farcical misunderstanding or embarrassment involving present company. Then persons caught by such delicate blows would hasten to return them on all sides.

All the while little Sophie was excitedly pacing about the room in big strides, wrapped up in her own thoughts. As the others jostled about, talking, her restless rhythm of movement was almost as much in their way as they in hers. Finally Anton, with feigned annoyance, asked her whether she would not gladly forgo all her presents for a magic mirror5 that would allow her to peer behind the closed doors.

“At least,” she retorted, “I would be more likely to do that than you, for you are more self-indulgent than curious; and, anyway, you think that the rays of your marvelous wit cannot be stopped by any obstacles!”6 Whereupon she plunked herself down in the darkest corner and sat there pensively, cradling her head in her upturned palms.

In a short while Ernestine opened the door, and the merry company flocked through as she remained there leaning against it. Yet, instead of rushing eagerly to the bright, laden tables, as would have been expected, when they had reached the middle of the room where the whole scene could be surveyed, all suddenly, automatically7 turned their gaze to her. The arrangement was so beautifully done and so fully expressed her good taste that their feelings were spontaneously drawn to her, and without a moment’s thought their eyes followed. She was standing there half in the shadows, thinking to take delight, unnoticed, in her loved ones and their buoyant joy; but it was she in whom they all first took delight, and they gathered around her as though she had given them everything and they had already enjoyed it to the full. Touched beyond smiling, the child clasped her about the knees and looked up at her, her eyes wide in fondest admiration. The women embraced her. Eduard kissed her lovely downcast eyelid, and in a suitable way each showed her the most hearty love and devotion. She herself had to beckon them on to claim their gifts.

“I am glad if you like the way I have arranged things, my dears,” she said; “but please do not forget the picture for the frame. Bear in mind that I have tried only to do honor to the day that we are celebrating and to your own joyful love, the tokens of which you have entrusted to me. Come forth, then, and let all of you see what presents are here for you; and if you cannot guess correctly, may you bear our joshing patiently!”

Of that there was plenty. With great confidence the women called out who had given every one of their presents, and the girls too, so that no one could deny it. The men, however, were often mistaken; and nothing was more amusing—or annoying—than for one of them to flash out a clever guess, only to have it parried under protest, like throwing back the wrong change.

“We will just have to take it,” said Leonhardt, “though it always naturally bothers us that the ladies are so much sharper than we at such precious little things as these! This is so, for the meaning expressed in the presents they give discloses that the most artful attention has been accorded them, and that is more than can be said of ours. Realizing this, and enjoying these pleasant fruits of their talent, we simply have to bear the other result as it comes, even though it puts us somewhat in the shade.”

“You are too kind,” replied Friederike. “It is not so much our talent that gives us the advantage as, if I may say so, a certain lack of skill on the part of you men. You very much prefer the straightforward way of doing things, as befits the strong and lordly. Thus, while you may not want to divulge anything thereby, your moves are nevertheless as much dead giveaways as the gestures of chess players who cannot keep from touching the troublesome pieces of their opponents and indecisively lifting their own six times over before taking their turn.”

“Ah yes,” Ernst put in, smiling but feigning a sigh. “It is still true, as old Solomon says, that God hath made man upright, but women have sought out many inventions.”8

“Then you may at least have the consolation,” retorted Karoline, “of knowing that you have not undone us by all your modern good manners.9 Who knows? Perhaps both qualities are as eternal as they are needful. Moreover, if, as it happens, your forthright simplicity is the occasion of our cunning, then set your mind at rest: the other way around, our less capacious habits may well relate similarly to the talents in which you excel.”

Meanwhile, the whole company was inspecting the gifts more closely, and everyone was examining and praising appreciatively the particularly female offerings of knitting and fine needlework. At first, Sophie had thrown only a fleeting glance over her own treasures. She left them so as to weave in and out among the group, peeking curiously at everything and exulting in it all. Above all else, however, she was industriously begging for bits of candied initials on things once they had broken apart, for her appetite for sweets was insatiable, and she liked to save up great stores of them, especially when she could gather them like this. Only after she had swelled her hoard of sweets by this supply did she begin to take more exact stock of her presents; and then she made the rounds again, showing and exclaiming over every one in turn, trying to display each in a way that would most surely demonstrate its excellence.

“But you seem not to have noticed the best of them all,” remarked her mother.

“Oh yes, I really have, Mother,”10 replied the child. “But I have not yet had the heart to open it, for if it is a book, it would be useless to look into it here. Later I must shut myself up in my room to enjoy it first there.11 Yet, maybe someone—and I am sure it was not you—has made serious sport with me: Maybe someone has given me patterns and directions for all sorts of knitting and sewing and other such marvelous things. If so, I promise you as positively as I can that I will make good use of it in the new year. Just now, though, I would rather not know about it!”

“Poor guess,” her father said. “It is not anything like that, nor have you wanted to be in a position to merit having such gifts as yet, but neither is it a book that you would have to retire to your room to enjoy properly.”

At that she jumped up, suddenly all eagerness—though at the risk of scattering most of her treasures—and exclaimed with a shriek,12 “Music!” And leafing through what she had found, she said, “Oh, wonderful music! A whole lifeti...

Table of contents

• Christmas Eve Celebration
• Editor’s Foreword
• Editor’s Introduction
• Dramatis Personae
• Schleiermacher’s Preface to the Second Edition
• Chapter 1: Christmas Eve
• Chapter 2: Christmas Themes
• Chapter 3: Christmas Stories
• Chapter 4: On the Meaning of Christmas
• Bibliographical Note
• Index
• Scripture Index