It's Christmas

Amahl & the Night Visitors on Christmas Eve
- I caution John, “I’m playing Christmas music, you might want to put on your headphones.” We get to the first mezzo-soprano scolding, and John observes, “You weren’t kidding!” and retires behind his headphones.
- As a child, I thought that Amahl was cured by one of Kaspar’s magic stones. That was much more believable to me than a miraculous healing by the Christ child.
- Later I thought that if only Christianity practiced what Melchior sings, I could be a Christian:
The child we seek doesn't need our gold.
On love, on love alone he will build his kingdom.
His pierced hand will hold no scepter.
His haloed head will wear no crown.
His might will not be built on your toil.
Swifter than lightning, he will soon walk among us.
He will bring us new life, and receive our death, and the keys to his city belong to the poor
- There was a year when I could not listen to mother and child parting without sobbing myself:
Don't forget to wear your hat
I shall always wear my hat.
So, my darling goodbye! I shall miss you very much, very much
Wash your ears.
Yes, I promise.
Don't tell lies.
No, I promise.
I shall miss you very much.
Feed my bird.
Yes, I promise.
Watch the cat.
Yes I promise.
I shall miss you very much.
- This year, listening to the mother’s response to the Kings’ description of Jesus, “Yes I know a child the color of earth, the color of corn [incidentally a point that demands suspension of disbelief, corn was not extant in the middle east in the first century, was it?] … He is my child, my son, my darling, my own.” It dawns on me: this captures my spiritual; belief. Every child is a child of god, with hands of the poor/hands of a king, and poor/king he was born.