From the Millennial Star, December 1951 –

The Voice of Christmas: A Fugue for the Yuletide

By A.E.

“This is your B.B.C. Announcer, the Voice of Christmas, bringing you, the people of Britain, a special holiday feature – the message of the gospels.

“Now it came to pass that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. So every man went into his own city, and Joseph went up from Galilee into the city of David which is called Bethlehem. He had with him his wife Mary; and there she brought forth her first-born son, and dressed him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger …”

“Hush, everyone, and let’s listen to the wireless.” Aunt Emm called to her noisy family. “Come on now, Dirk, and you, Ian, sit by me. Christmas Eve is the time to have one’s family about you.” Her grandchildren stopped playing and gathered themselves on the living room floor at her feet, her daughter-in-law came from the kitchen and stood leaning at the doorway, and even Tin-ribs, the cat, seemed to perk up and listen to the announcer’s well modulated voice.

Aunt Emm loved her family. She had worked long years alone to raise the “God-fearin’” crew, and it was to her credit that all of them had been true to the faith she had embraced. With the exception of her eldest son, now a bishop at Salt Lake City, her whole family was together for the first time in years; this was the reward of her sacrifices, her heartaches, and unending vigil – this was happiness …

“There were, in the same country, shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night. and, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and said unto them, ‘Fear not; for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. Unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.; Ye shall find the babe in swaddling clothes lying in a manger …”

“Turn the radio up a bit louder, will you, Dear?” Jean asked her husband from across the room, “while I turn the tree lights on. The children will be home from the Primary party in a few moments, and we want everything to be just right. After all, Christmas Eve is the nicest time of the year – when you’re young.” He hadn’t caught the intended humour of her last words, but moved automatically to adjust the radio. A smile played at her lips as she watched him unconsciously straighten the clumsily tied package behind the gram’s opened lid, that he probably thought well concealed. He wasn’t listening.

She loved his impenetrable moods. There was something so completely male about them; something she could never quite understand. For instance, now; why the sudden concentration on the Christmas story? She leaned on the back of his chair, and ran a finger through his thick, wiry curls. What goes on in there, she asked herself, searching the years for an answer. The first time she’d noticed her sudden aloneness must have been that day – that day at Hyde Park when they’d heard their first missionary. That was it, Bob had been gay before that. They walked from the Serpentine to Marble Arch. They listened to Doctor Soper, watched a prayer circle, laughed at a fight two old “dolls” were having, and then, quite suddenly, Jean found herself alone. Bob was standing silent when she found him at the edge of the little group of Mormons, too absorbed to even notice as she put her gloved hand beneath his folded arm. From that afternoon onward he was a changed man. A deep religious interest filled the vacancy left by former indifference.

The next time must have been that day in Sacrament meeting – the day President Richards spoke on eternal marriage. Bob sat enraptured as the meeting closed – oblivious to the dispersing congregation, but from that time on she couldn’t have asked for a more understanding husband.

Then, soon after they were baptised, when the Branch President came the night their baby died. He told them why a child had no need for baptism, and how they themselves would one day have the opportunity of raising it. She’d gone to bed alone that night; leaving Bob within himself to find the faith he’d carried since.

And now tonight. Jean settled herself on the floor before the decorated tree, leaned on Bob’s firm knee, and listened …

“Suddenly there was a multitude of the Heavenly host singing, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.’ Then the shepherds said, ‘Let us go now even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass’ …”

“Ignore it. There’ll be somethin’ else on in a minute. Your shuffle, Joe.”

Monday evening in Margate was always club night for the boys; Christmas or no Christmas.

“Cut.”

“Let’s make it a quick hand, fellows. I’ve gotta call for the old woman by twelve. She will insist on her midnight mass.”

“She’ll be makin’ a priest outa you yet, guvnor.” They laughed, and Joe took another handful of salted crisps.

“Ya know what the actress said to the priest …”

“At this time, too, there came wise men to Jerusalem, saying, ‘Where is he that is born King of the Jews? We have seen His star in the east and are come to worship him.’ When Herod, the King, heard this, he was worried; for his priests had told him the child was to rule the people of Israel. So Herod sent the wise men to Bethlehem, saying, ‘When you have found the child, bring me word that I too, may worship Him’ …”

“What would you be doing if you were home tonight?” Elder Smith asked his companion, as he raked another chestnut from the hearth.

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps Jill and I would be dancing. Perhaps we’d be skating at the ice club. Maybe I’d be home. What’s the dif?”

“Just wonderin’. You know, this is the first time I’ve been away from home on Christmas.”

Tim was homesick – there was no doubt about it. He’d been in the mission field for six weeks, and memories of Montana were yet fresh. The Yorkshire countryside was unusual, and he could hardly understand what Mrs. Watkins, his landlady, said as yet – her dialect seemed so strange.

“It hardly seems like Christmas; there’s no tree, no snow, no carols. And I hate that eternal wind.” He walked to the front window of their council house sitting room, and drew the curtains.

“Why not turn the rediffussion on, Tim,” Elder Young asked, putting another scoop of their limited coal on the open grate, “maybe we can get A.F.N.”

“Mr. Watkin’s probably got the Third on again, and I don’t think I could take much of Trout or Meerchaum tonight.” He switched the knob on the little plastic extension speaker anyway, and settled himself in the huge fireside chair. Glory to God in the highest broke over his heart, and settled about him. The beautiful story went on, and on until he felt a glow of warmth. The nativity became a universal thing, and he was glad to be away from home, glad to think that he, in his own way, was helping to spread the message of the Lord’s gospel …

“Lo, the star went before the wise men to Bethlehem. They saw the young child with Mary, His mother, and worshiped Him. They presented unto Him gifts, the gifts of the Magi: gold, and frankincense, and myrrh …”

“Turn that confounded machine off,” Alex Murten shouted across the crowded, smoke-filled dart room of the “Plow and Thistle.” “Get another station, or we’ll all be weepin’.” He eyed the bubbles in the glass of stout before him with seriousness, blew the froth to one side, and took a long drink. His friends were singing, all of them, the Whiffenpoof Song; slightly off key, but good and loud. The night was young, and it was Christmas Eve.

“Alex, old chap,” someone cried, slapping him on the back. “You’re just the sixth we’ve been lookin’ for. Your date for the evening – Myrna, Myrna?”

“Mackin,” the blond giggled.

“Righto. Myrna Mackin. You’ll like ’er, Alex. She’s a friend of Hazel’s.”

“Blimey, don’t doubt that I will,” he replied, taking her all in – from dusty sandals to the tinsel bow in her hair.

“Say, ain’t this livin’,” she giggled, pulling a sprig of mistletoe from her bag, and holding it above Alex’s head.

“Yeah, but wait’ll I turn that flippin’ wireless off …”

“Being warned of God that Herod sought to kill the child, the wise men returned home another way; and Joseph fled into Egypt with Mary and the child. From there they went into the land of Israel and dwelt in the city Nazareth. So came to pass the words of the prophets: ‘He shall be called a Nazarene’ …”

It was fortunate for Paul that Alicia was a member of the church, too. They were in love, and Paul knew that it was right. He’d waited a long time for a suitable girl to come along, and here she was beside him. They’d been sitting in his ’38 Vauxhall listening to the Christmas message from the little radio. On earth peace, goodwill toward men, the voice said. Paul buried his face in Alicia’s soft hair. If only he were out of the service, if they could marry now, have children, a home. Peace, goodwill.

Alicia listened to the beautiful account that stirred so many things within her. Christ was always near but especially so tonight. She watched Paul’s thoughtful face, and with a playful finger traced the words I love you, across his forehead until the furrows disappeared, and he too felt her serenity – and smiled …

“And Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”