Lest we forget

Christmastide, with its traditional revels, is experienced in a very particular way when it follows a bereavement that has affected us. Especially in households that keep up the tradition of a family get-together for the end of December, the burden of “the empty chair” is very intense, often aching

Giulio Andreotti

The traditional Christmas market stalls in Piazza Navona in Rome [© Grazia Neri]

Christmastide, with its traditional revels, is experienced in a very particular way when it follows a bereavement that has affected us. Especially in households that keep up the tradition of a family get-together for the end of December, the burden of “the empty chair” is very intense, often aching.
I’m not inclined to believe in the often cited progressive cooling of the affections. Perhaps there is less outward show in communication. But in essence I think the view that “handed down” ties of affection are cooling down from generation to generation – with the risk of total loss – is wrong.
Certainly, going through one’s address book at Christmas card time, the crossings-out stir renewed emotion for those who passed on during the year to what we call a better life, a common phrase I find very significant. The Latin poet expressed it in the famous words: “non omnis moriar”.
The parish priest in whose entourage I spent my early years used to visit families who had recently suffered a bereavement, not to present Christmas wishes, but as expression of a particular sensitivity.
The annual event is linked for the people of Rome with the old tradition of the “stalls” in Piazza Navona, half a market for cribs and half for toys or other games and gift items.
According to an old tradition, on the night of 6 January the square is crammed and festive until the next morning. There are also special gimmicks for the event that – although festive – make a deafening racket. Subject as I have been since childhood to migraine, I take good care (after experiencing it when I was about ten) not to be near the shattering din. But I appreciate the positive aspects, including the emphasis given to an important religious feast.
During the two decades of the Fascist regime much importance was given to the “Fascist Epiphany” with gifts of toys and other things. I myself benefited as a war orphan. In some years we got double presents: a sailor hat, for example, and a spinning top or the like.
After the end of Fascism that specific legacy was taken up in part by the wonderful organization created by Monsignor Baldelli: the Pontifical Works of Assistance. I fear that a controversial shift towards modernizing and updating is leading to the loss of these annual “recurrences”.
I have never personally gone into the traditional link between the crib and Franciscan culture. I am, instead, the proud owner of some Neapolitan crib figures which seem to be original. In truth they are kept throughout the year in a small lighted showcase.

Some of those performing in the crib with Aloysius Jin Luxian, bishop of Shanghai, and Dr. Paolo Sabbatini, director of the Italian Cultural Institute in the Chinese metropolis, who organized the sacred representation (www.iicshanghai.esteri.it)

Going back to my… prehistorical childhood I remember the tradition of getting children to recite Christmas poetry from the pulpit of the Ara Coeli church on the Capitoline. It was a very particular experience, with a small queue waiting to climb up and a patient audience of youngsters listening while awaiting their turn.
I stay well clear of giving opinions on the quality of those times compared to ours. Nevertheless traditions are family values that should be maintained. Often, however, the allure of novelty prevails.
Perhaps the old pulpit of the Ara Coeli could be replaced for the occasion by allowing the youngsters to broadcast.
We all believe ourselves indebted to those who stimulated us as youngsters to feel the importance of tradition. It in no way goes against the “positive” aspects of modernity.
Last year when I made an excursion to Piazza Navona, for a small “get together”, I had the great joy of meeting and hearing two bagpipers, as in the old days. I won’t pretend I wasn’t moved.
Describing the past in eulogistic terms would falsify it, but to forget it altogether is unjust and reprehensible.
The “fifers” are spoken of today in a fashion that devalues them. Let’s think about it. Their old music evokes states of mind and customs that it would be of great service not to consign to oblivion.