I Am Not Hamlet

On the second day of Christmas. . . Back to work for most of us. The decorations are still displayed, though they never seem to glisten the same way as before the 25th. If you didn’t want to fight crowds to return something today wouldn’t be a bad idea. To love as John loved—loved Jesus with a burning cup of wrathful fire poured out in love on his head to run down over his body. To see sights unseen, what the ear hasn’t heard, to touch him in his glory, to be like him. To love as John loved that would resurrect Christmas.

Yes, it is still Christmas in the Martin household. Perhaps one of the few Protestant economies still practicing in its twelve-day splendor. Though, now, on the feast day of St. john there's only about 15 minutes left. The Martin offspring are equivocating--all presents now!--save some for later--all presents now!--save it for later (they aren't really familiar with the English Beat). Here is the inculcating of virtue in action. Can this newly minted four-year-old and fiver hold out for all their gifts through Epiphany Sunday? Only time, that strange, strange teacher will be able to report it to you. Anyway, raise a glass with the Martins--I drink to you the love of good Saint John.