Ave Maria

Kevin and I were driving around yesterday and I insisted we listen to Karen Carpenter sing The Best Christmas Song (Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas). Then we drove through the ghetto where everyone acts awfully. What did I hear out of other cars? Karen Carpenter.

Even the ghetto-bad-behavers know. That set me up with a wobbling lip. I'm very susceptible to weeping at music at the best of times; certain chord progressions, especially those well-arranged in sacred music, take over my nervous system. It's involuntary. Nothing moves me more than classical sacred music, especially on a proper pipe organ, but I avoid going to these performances because I can’t keep myself composed in public.

And then, in the car again, a very fine rendition of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah came on the radio, and that was it. I thought it was going be just weeping, but it turned into full-on public crying. At least I had a car to hide in, and only Kevin and Tommy to watch me lose my composure. The contrast between the state of the world, and the sincere beauty of the best music in this season creates a mix of emotions I don't know how to describe.

In 1982, my family walked to a restaurant named Demicelli’s for the rare treat of a Christmas meal out. We only got McDonald’s once a year or so as we couldn’t afford much. Eating at a real “nice” restaurant was unheard of.

My stepfather was carrying my brother, Curt, on his shoulders; mother was holding my sister Jesse by the hand. I was walking ahead, lost in in my own thoughts as usual. When I looked up at the sky I saw an unusually bright star and my heart leaped.

”Mom, look! It’s the Star of Jesus. It’s the star that guided the three wise men to the baby Jesus.”

I was overcome with excitement and awe and something else I can’t describe.

Mother looked down at me and said in a disapproving tone, “Oh, no it isn’t. It’s just a star, Josh.”

I think it was probably Venus, but for a moment, it was the Star of Jesus to me.

This Christmas, I want the tradition and the beauty—the Christian tradition and beauty—more than I ever have. No, I don’t suppose I’m a true believer, but I want it anyway. These past few days I’ve been contemplating Mary and talking to her in my head.

This is one of my favorite ways to do so, through the most beautiful female voice of the recorded music era. Enjoy Karen singing Bach’s Ave Maria.

This isn’t the usual sentiment from me, I know. It might seem odd, but I really mean it. I wish you love and joy, all of you. Hold your family close tonight.

Ave Maria.