Reason for the season
“Always winter, never Christmas.”
That’s how C.S. Lewis described Narnia under the spell of the White Witch in “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.” It’s a description that will undoubtedly get much wider recognition with the release of the movie version of the tale.
Much has been written already about the Christian themes that run through Lewis’ “Narnia Chronicles.”
The series, starting with the first book, deals with death and resurrection, self-sacrifice, love and courage. The lion Aslan, who must die and return to life, is a widely recognized Christ figure—so much so that the film’s producers mounted a church-based marketing effort and have been courting the Christian press.
Whether that’s appropriate or not, it makes sense for them to release the movie in December, the darkest time of year.
Christmas, after all, comes in December because it celebrates the light of Christ coming into the world, dispelling the darkness. On a real level, not just symbolic, Christmas brings light to a dark season—lights on trees and houses, on displays, and in the glorious illumination of churches at midnight Mass.
The darkness of December represents the benightedness of our souls without God. If God had not sent his Son and walked among us, we would be in the same situation as the denizens of Narnia: condemned to endless winter, with not a Christmas party in sight.
Of course, winter goes on for a couple of months after Christmas. The holiday comes early enough in the season that snow is still a novelty and the cold and the ice and the salt have not yet ground their way into our bones and our boots, permeating the very atmosphere.
But it sets the season off right, associating snow with dazzling landscapes and the sleigh rides of “Jingle Bells” and Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas.” The other day, Caroline told me that one of her favorite winter activities is gathering with the family for Christmas Eve dinner and watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” on TV. Winter activity, she said, not Christmas activity.
And that’s the wonder of Christmas. No matter how commercial it becomes, and how early it starts (Fourth of July, anyone?), it doesn’t really happen until families come together and, as they share their love with one another, welcome the Christ child into their midst.
And once the child comes, Christmas stays. The calendar used to say the Christmas season extended to Candlemas at the beginning of February; that’s about right. Christmas is bright enough to cast its glow over the weeks that follow, transforming the frigid landscape into a glittering scene of beauty. The warmth lasts like a winter coat, offering comfort even after the newness wears off and it gets salt stains and the buttons start to come loose.
It might be winter, but in some ways, it’s always Christmas.
Martin is a Catholic New World staff writer.
