From "The Song of the Sirens" starting this meditation on Christmas.
To all those who still believe in the magic of Christmas to all those who still believe in the dream as when they were children and not let themselves be led astray by the bitterness of life to those who have not succumbed to despair and do not have wanted to turn into many Ebenezer Scrooge , and today this "Christmas Tale" by Dino Buzzati , appeared in the collection "Paura alla Scala", published by Mondadori in 1949.
To all those who still believe in the magic of Christmas to all those who still believe in the dream as when they were children and not let themselves be led astray by the bitterness of life to those who have not succumbed to despair and do not have wanted to turn into many Ebenezer Scrooge , and today this "Christmas Tale" by Dino Buzzati , appeared in the collection "Paura alla Scala", published by Mondadori in 1949.
to the Friends of The Ghilini "best wishes for the Holy and Happy Christmas and a prosperous and peaceful New Year.
"Tetro is pointed and the ancient palace of the bishops, saltpetre dripping from the walls, is a stay execution on winter nights. And the nearby cathedral is immense, to turn it all not just one life, and there is such a maze of chapels and the sacristy, after centuries of neglect, some were left virtually unexplored. What will Christmas Eve - one wonders - the thin archbishop alone, while the city is celebrating? How will win the melancholy? They all have one consolation: the child has the train and Pinocchio, the little sister's doll, the mother has children around him, a new hope to the sick, the old bachelor's companion dissipation, the prisoner's voice from another neighboring cell. How will the archbishop? He smiled the zealous Don Valentine, Secretary of His Excellency, hearing people talk like that. The archbishop has God on Christmas Eve. Kneeling all alone in the middle of the cathedral cold and deserted at first glance it might almost be worth, and yet if you knew! All by myself is not, has not even cold, or feeling abandoned. On the evening of Christmas, God is rampant in the temple, for the Archbishop, the aisles will literally overflowing, so that the ports are struggling to quit, and, even without the stoves, it is hot enough the old white snakes wake up in the tombs of historical Abbots and rise from the basement vents gently poking his head from the balustrades of the confessionals.
So, that night the cathedral, full of God although he knew he did not compete, Don Valentino lingered all too happy to have the bishop of the kneeler. Other than trees, turkeys and sparkling wine. This, an evening of Christmas. Except that in the midst of these thoughts, he heard a knock at the door. "Who knocks at the door of the cathedral," said Don Valentino is "Christmas Eve? They have not prayed enough? What madness has taken them? "While saying so he went to open up and become a gust came a poor man in rags.
"How much of God!" He said smiling, looking around-"What a beauty. You can hear it even outside. My lord, I could not let a little? Do you think it is Christmas Eve. "
"It is His Excellency the Archbishop," replied the priest. "We need him, in a couple of hours. His excellence is now the life of a saint, do not pretend that mica also give up to God now! And then I have never been my lord. "
" Not a bit, Reverend? There's so much! His excellency did not even notice it! "
" I said no ... You can go ... The Cathedral is closed to the public "and dismissed the poor man with a five-lire. But as the unfortunate
left the church, at the same time God disappeared. Awe, Don Valentine looked around, scanning the dark times, God was not even there. The spectacular array of columns, statues, canopies, altars, catafalque, chandeliers, drapery, usually so mysterious and powerful, had suddenly become an inhospitable and sinister. And in a couple of hours, the archbishop would be let down. With orgasm
Don Valentino one of the exterior doors ajar, looked into the square. Nothing. Even outside, though it was Christmas, there was no sign of God a thousand lit windows came the echoes of laughter, broken glasses, music and even curses. Not bells, no chants.
Don Valentino went out in the night, he went to the streets profane, between the din of wild banquets. But he knew the right address. When he entered the house, the family friend was sitting at the table. They all looked at each other kindly and around them was a little of God c
"Merry Christmas, Reverend, "said the householder. "You want some?"
"I fast, my friends," he said. "For my carelessness has abandoned God and His Excellency the cathedral to pray to be soon. Do not you give me yours? So, you are in company, you do not have an absolute need. "
"My dear Don Valentino" said the householder. "You forget, I would say that today is Christmas. Just today, my children would do without God? I wonder, Don Valentine. "
And in the very way God said that man slipped out of the room, the cheerful smiles went out and roast capon felt sand between your teeth.
Way back then, in night along the deserted streets. Walk, walk, Don Valentine finally saw him again. He arrived at the gates of the city and before him lay in the dark, are white for a little snow, the great campaign. Over the fields and rows of mulberry trees, swaying God, as if waiting. Don Valentine dropped to his knees.
"But what it does, Reverend?" Asked a farmer. "It means taking a sickness in this cold?"
"Look there, son. Can not you see? "
The doctor looked at with wonder. "It is our" he said. "Every Christmas is to bless our fields."
"Listen," said the priest. "I do not give you a little? In city we were without even the churches are empty. Lasciamene a while that the archbishop could at least make a decent Christmas. "
" But even in the slightest, my dear Reverend! Who knows what hideous sins you did in your city. Your fault. Arrangiatevi.
"It is a sin, sure. And who does not sin? But you can save many souls son, only to tell me so. "
"Enough to save me!" Chuckled the farmer, and in the very moment that he said it, God rose up from his fields and disappeared into the darkness.
went even further by looking. God seemed to be increasingly rare, and who had a little did not want to sell it (but in the he replied that no, God disappeared, gradually moving away). Don Valentino
Hence the limits of a vast wilderness, and after all, just on the horizon, glowed softly as a cloud oblong God. The young priest fell on his knees in the snow. "Wait for me, O Lord," begged "the archbishop is my fault alone, and tonight it's Christmas!"
His feet were frozen, he walked in the mist, sank to his knees, stretched out every now and then collapsing. How would resist? Until he heard a chorus
lying and pathetic, rumors of an angel, a ray of light filtered through the fog. He opened a wooden door: it was a great church and half, a few candles, a priest was praying. And the church was full of heaven.
"Brother" groaned Don Valentine, the limit of strength, full of ice "have mercy on me. My archbishop because of me is left alone and needs God Give me a little, please. "
Slowly he turned the man who was praying. And Don Valentino, recognizing him, he became, if possible, even paler.
"Merry Christmas to you, Don Valentine," said the Archbishop making meeting, the whole fence of God "bless her, but where have you been? You can know what you went to try out on this night by wolves?"
"Tetro is pointed and the ancient palace of the bishops, saltpetre dripping from the walls, is a stay execution on winter nights. And the nearby cathedral is immense, to turn it all not just one life, and there is such a maze of chapels and the sacristy, after centuries of neglect, some were left virtually unexplored. What will Christmas Eve - one wonders - the thin archbishop alone, while the city is celebrating? How will win the melancholy? They all have one consolation: the child has the train and Pinocchio, the little sister's doll, the mother has children around him, a new hope to the sick, the old bachelor's companion dissipation, the prisoner's voice from another neighboring cell. How will the archbishop? He smiled the zealous Don Valentine, Secretary of His Excellency, hearing people talk like that. The archbishop has God on Christmas Eve. Kneeling all alone in the middle of the cathedral cold and deserted at first glance it might almost be worth, and yet if you knew! All by myself is not, has not even cold, or feeling abandoned. On the evening of Christmas, God is rampant in the temple, for the Archbishop, the aisles will literally overflowing, so that the ports are struggling to quit, and, even without the stoves, it is hot enough the old white snakes wake up in the tombs of historical Abbots and rise from the basement vents gently poking his head from the balustrades of the confessionals.
So, that night the cathedral, full of God although he knew he did not compete, Don Valentino lingered all too happy to have the bishop of the kneeler. Other than trees, turkeys and sparkling wine. This, an evening of Christmas. Except that in the midst of these thoughts, he heard a knock at the door. "Who knocks at the door of the cathedral," said Don Valentino is "Christmas Eve? They have not prayed enough? What madness has taken them? "While saying so he went to open up and become a gust came a poor man in rags.
"How much of God!" He said smiling, looking around-"What a beauty. You can hear it even outside. My lord, I could not let a little? Do you think it is Christmas Eve. "
"It is His Excellency the Archbishop," replied the priest. "We need him, in a couple of hours. His excellence is now the life of a saint, do not pretend that mica also give up to God now! And then I have never been my lord. "
" Not a bit, Reverend? There's so much! His excellency did not even notice it! "
" I said no ... You can go ... The Cathedral is closed to the public "and dismissed the poor man with a five-lire. But as the unfortunate
left the church, at the same time God disappeared. Awe, Don Valentine looked around, scanning the dark times, God was not even there. The spectacular array of columns, statues, canopies, altars, catafalque, chandeliers, drapery, usually so mysterious and powerful, had suddenly become an inhospitable and sinister. And in a couple of hours, the archbishop would be let down. With orgasm
Don Valentino one of the exterior doors ajar, looked into the square. Nothing. Even outside, though it was Christmas, there was no sign of God a thousand lit windows came the echoes of laughter, broken glasses, music and even curses. Not bells, no chants.
Don Valentino went out in the night, he went to the streets profane, between the din of wild banquets. But he knew the right address. When he entered the house, the family friend was sitting at the table. They all looked at each other kindly and around them was a little of God c
"Merry Christmas, Reverend, "said the householder. "You want some?"
"I fast, my friends," he said. "For my carelessness has abandoned God and His Excellency the cathedral to pray to be soon. Do not you give me yours? So, you are in company, you do not have an absolute need. "
"My dear Don Valentino" said the householder. "You forget, I would say that today is Christmas. Just today, my children would do without God? I wonder, Don Valentine. "
And in the very way God said that man slipped out of the room, the cheerful smiles went out and roast capon felt sand between your teeth.
Way back then, in night along the deserted streets. Walk, walk, Don Valentine finally saw him again. He arrived at the gates of the city and before him lay in the dark, are white for a little snow, the great campaign. Over the fields and rows of mulberry trees, swaying God, as if waiting. Don Valentine dropped to his knees.
"But what it does, Reverend?" Asked a farmer. "It means taking a sickness in this cold?"
"Look there, son. Can not you see? "
The doctor looked at with wonder. "It is our" he said. "Every Christmas is to bless our fields."
"Listen," said the priest. "I do not give you a little? In city we were without even the churches are empty. Lasciamene a while that the archbishop could at least make a decent Christmas. "
" But even in the slightest, my dear Reverend! Who knows what hideous sins you did in your city. Your fault. Arrangiatevi.
"It is a sin, sure. And who does not sin? But you can save many souls son, only to tell me so. "
"Enough to save me!" Chuckled the farmer, and in the very moment that he said it, God rose up from his fields and disappeared into the darkness.
went even further by looking. God seemed to be increasingly rare, and who had a little did not want to sell it (but in the he replied that no, God disappeared, gradually moving away). Don Valentino
Hence the limits of a vast wilderness, and after all, just on the horizon, glowed softly as a cloud oblong God. The young priest fell on his knees in the snow. "Wait for me, O Lord," begged "the archbishop is my fault alone, and tonight it's Christmas!"
His feet were frozen, he walked in the mist, sank to his knees, stretched out every now and then collapsing. How would resist? Until he heard a chorus
lying and pathetic, rumors of an angel, a ray of light filtered through the fog. He opened a wooden door: it was a great church and half, a few candles, a priest was praying. And the church was full of heaven.
"Brother" groaned Don Valentine, the limit of strength, full of ice "have mercy on me. My archbishop because of me is left alone and needs God Give me a little, please. "
Slowly he turned the man who was praying. And Don Valentino, recognizing him, he became, if possible, even paler.
"Merry Christmas to you, Don Valentine," said the Archbishop making meeting, the whole fence of God "bless her, but where have you been? You can know what you went to try out on this night by wolves?"
Without doubt the star of this tale in the surrealistic style of Dino Buzzati fantastic and is human selfishness: the true meaning of Christmas is revealed by the representation of a search of a wait. It is not our life a continual search for a continuous wait? The young priest leading the evening of Christmas Eve lost God, escaped when chases a beggar from the Duomo. His frantic search, however, is frustrated by selfishness of those who refuse to share their well-being, losing themselves God is a happy family with the turkey stuffing that seems made of sand, a farmer from the fields of production remains with the arid land; without God, their happiness, their assets become nothing.
Exhausted, Don Valentino finally found God in the simplicity of the church where he started: the long journey through the cold night made him realize that God is not outside but within us, and that the message is always that of Christ: love one the other ...
Final of Ghilini
is why I attended the "Annual refreshing" that took place in recent days. Although, in truth, there was the same: you have seen my - how to say - curly (ah, ah) picture (see at right, top) in the room now known as "contracts" (Originally called "the pool" or "trick") of the Palace.
Personally, no, I did not want to event. Too much hypocrisy, too many handshakes and smiles ... not true ..
You can not be false to Christmas: Christmas is all year round and it is unthinkable to even the score with a slice of cake and some bignolina ....
Exhausted, Don Valentino finally found God in the simplicity of the church where he started: the long journey through the cold night made him realize that God is not outside but within us, and that the message is always that of Christ: love one the other ...
Final of Ghilini
is why I attended the "Annual refreshing" that took place in recent days. Although, in truth, there was the same: you have seen my - how to say - curly (ah, ah) picture (see at right, top) in the room now known as "contracts" (Originally called "the pool" or "trick") of the Palace.
Personally, no, I did not want to event. Too much hypocrisy, too many handshakes and smiles ... not true ..
You can not be false to Christmas: Christmas is all year round and it is unthinkable to even the score with a slice of cake and some bignolina ....
Capito! The speech is very, very serious ... .. especially for those who believe.
Ghil.
(The picture, above: "Nativity" (1960) William Congdon , Providence, April 15, 1912 - Milan, April 15, 1998).
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