MATHETΩN

From oldest times, peoples of the north have defied the deadly winters with traditions of warmth and cheer. I love the Yule winter ways, the green and red and gold, the fragrant smells; fireplaces and eggnog and holly are favorite things of mine.

It is the way of the world for the powerful to overcome the weak. Indeed, were all according to base propensity, the most potent king would be the most oppressive. But Infinite Power (because he is Infinite Love) instead gave himself to be oppressed as it is possible to be—reviled and falsely tried and killed. Thus the way of the world was upended, the curse broken (and curse it is—not only for the oppressed, but for they who strive for power, whose end is mutual destruction—is this not more evident than ever in the days of nuclear arms?)—and death was made infinite life. And we too will live if we do as he, venturing our lives gladly for Truth, Love, Beauty and for the oppressed.

In winter, when earth is deadest, comes Christmas, whose evergreens and candles are—ah—unexpected and bravest life.