No "Holiday Tree" this year

No more nasty little PR disasters like last year's attempt by the Beshear administration to rename the state's Christmas Tree a "Holiday Tree." Nope. This year, the administration is even displaying blatantly Christian nativity scenes.

Guess they learned a lesson.

The Governor Who Stole Christmas: Beshear Administration to put up "Holiday Tree"

Judging from a politically correct announcement today from the Beshear administration, the heart of the Beshear administration is about two sizes too small.

The Kentucky Finance Cabinet tells people in an announcement today that it wants Kentuckians, in the words of Charlie Brown's sister Sally, to "just send money" for the state's "Holiday Tree."

"The Commonwealth of Kentucky," says the release, "is looking for a property owner who is willing to donate a tree that will stand in front of the State Capitol as the Commonwealth Holiday tree."

Holiday Tree? One wonders about the blockhead who came up with this idea. Surely no one in the administration really wants to prevent Christmas from coming.

"The individual or family that donates the tree will be recognized at the tree lighting ceremony held at the Capitol."

Surely there is a Scrooge out there somewhere willing to donate a tree, particularly if it is in the cause of redefining the holiday to remove itsChristian origin.

"The Wise Men," by G. K. Chesterton

Step softly, under snow or rain,
To find the place where men can pray;
The way is all so very plain
That we may lose the way.

Oh, we have learnt to peer and pore
On tortured puzzles from our youth,
We know all the labyrinthine lore,
We are the three wise men of yore,
And we know all things but truth.

We have gone round and round the hill
And lost the wood among the trees,
And learnt long names for every ill,
And serve the made gods, naming still
The furies the Eumenides.

The gods of violence took the veil
Of vision and philosophy,
The Serpent that brought all men bale,
He bites his own accursed tail,
And calls himself Eternity.

Go humbly ... it has hailed and snowed...
With voices low and lanterns lit;
So very simple is the road,
That we may stray from it.

The world grows terrible and white,
And blinding white the breaking day;
We walk bewildered in the light,
For something is too large for sight,
And something much too plain to say.

The Child that was ere worlds begun
(... We need but walk a little way,
We need but see a latch undone...)
The Child that played with moon and sun
Is playing with a little hay.

The house from which the heavens are fed,
The old strange house that is our own,
Where trick of words are never said,
And Mercy is as plain as bread,
And Honour is as hard as stone.

Go humbly, humble are the skies,
And low and large and fierce the Star;
So very near the Manger lies
That we may travel far.

Hark! Laughter like a lion wakes
To roar to the resounding plain.
And the whole heaven shouts and shakes,
For God Himself is born again,
And we are little children walking
Through the snow and rain.

A Garrison Keillor Christmas

Garrison Keillor, speaking to skeptical New York Teenagers (an excerpt):

We sat in a sort of triangle, two couches at a right angle, a line of chairs, a window looking out at the snow on Amsterdam Avenue, and talked about the rather improbable notion that God sent Himself to Earth in human form, impregnating a virgin who, along with her confused fiancé, journeyed to Bethlehem where no rooms were available at the inn (it was the holidays, after all), and so God was born in a stable, wrapped in cloths and laid in a feed trough and worshipped by shepherds summoned by angels and by Eastern dignitaries who had followed a star.

This magical story is a cornerstone of the Christian faith and I am sorry if it's a big hurdle for the skeptical young. It is to the Church what his Kryptonian heritage was to Clark Kent -- it enables us to stop speeding locomotives and leap tall buildings at a single bound, and also to love our neighbors as ourselves. Without the Nativity, we become a sort of lecture series and coffee club, with not very good coffee and sort of aimless lectures.

On Christmas Eve, the snow on the ground, the stars in the sky, the spruce tree glittering with beloved ornaments, we stand in the dimness and sing about the silent holy night and tears come to our eyes and the vast invisible forces of Christmas stir in the world. Skeptics, stand back. Hush. Hark. There is much in this world that doubt cannot explain.