“Ridiculous romantic fiction,” said the student who calls herself “Martini” because she wants to sound “sophisticated”, in response to our lesson on Christmas, a national holiday in USA.
“Many people agree with you,” I said, and left it at that.
As I pondered the remark though, I wonder what really is romantic about the story? Thousands of people are ordered by the occupying foreign government to make a journey to an ancestral town. How romantic. Taxes: romantic. The town is full of people there for the census and taxation, so there are no open lodgings, hotels, inns, houses of relatives. No place to stay after walking 60 miles. How romantic. A young couple is given shelter in a barn with the animals. Warm, yes, dry, yes, shelter, yes, but romantic? Days and days go by, the young woman is ready to give birth. No midwife available, no doctor, no nurse, no clean place. How romantic. Was the birth easy? No one knows, but most women would not use the adjective “easy” for giving birth, nor would they call it a romantic event. After a few hours perhaps, while the young mother wanted to rest, a group of shepherds came in from the fields where they had been camping out for days and wanted to see the new baby. How very romantic.
I suppose our student was referring to the idea of the virgin birth. I agree it is an amazing part of the story, but romantic? Perhaps she referred to the angels mentioned in the story? In the Bible, whenever angels are mentioned as appearing, the first words they speak are “Fear NOT,” and the people are almost always terrified. So I would not call that element “romantic” either. I think our student does not understand the word “romantic” in either a common or a literary sense.
As to the word “fiction” there is no question that a man named Jesus, of Nazareth, was born, lived and was tortured and brutally executed in Israel, at a certain time in history. In fact, there is more attestation for his life, than there is for Julius Caesar, according to the scholars who count such things. (Josh McDowell: Evidence That Demands a Verdict)
History has been divided by his life, BC: before Christ, and AD: Anno Domini, In the year of our Lord. Western civilization has been built on the teachings of this particular man. Art, music, and literature have all been influenced by his life.
The significance of his life; whether he was who he said he was; whether he physically rose from the dead; these ideas are open to debate, have been debated for millennia, and will be debated until the end of time. These students who plan to enter the “Western world” for their higher education need to be at least acquainted with the parameters of the debate. In the universities of the United States or Europe this student will be “right at home” with her attitudes. But I hope she will find the intellectual honesty to enter the debate with full research.

Today is Christmas Day. Our young colleagues from UK organized a “Secret Santa” gift exchange. Early in December we drew names from a bag, and the name we drew was the person for whom we bought a gift. We were to wrap it up, but not put our name on it. The person who received the gift had to guess who had given it. After lunch today we had our time of opening gifts. We enjoyed each other, the gifts, and the celebration of this part of Christmas. Hannah, the person who organized this said, “We have to have something to keep up our spirits while we are all far from home.” Hannah was the giver of my gift. She gave me a small diary, called “The Way of Love” which has the famous poem about love that starts with “If I speak in the tongues of men and angels but have not love, I am a noisy gong, or a clanging cymbal.” The cover is black matte finish, almost like leather, and the front pieces and back pieces inside are embossed paper. The pages are blank, but Hannah has written that this is my “thought for the day” book. She has started off with a page for each day of January, 1-15, “quotes to keep me going.” Then, “the rest is up to you.”
In four months Hannah has noticed my mind and heart and has given a gift that “speaks” to my innermost self. She has given me a way to stay focused on writing every day, and a way to remember her and our time together here in China. She has given me the gift of listening.
Although we deeply miss our families, friends, and celebrations at home, we are grateful for this Christmas in China with our new friends. May you also enjoy the deep blessings of Christmas, in whatever circumstances you find yourself this year. The greatest gift of Christmas is the love of God, incarnate in Jesus, The Christ.

“Have you heard about Christmas?” I ask my students while introducing my St. Nicholas lesson. In the first four classes, the dumb stare was popular. In the fifth class, a few people said a few words such as “Santa, gifts, Christmas tree.” Then in class 6, everyone said, “OF COURSE!” So I asked “Tell me what you know.” A few students were able to say a sentence or two, “Eat turkey.” “Apples.” (I don’t know why the Chinese think apples are so important as a gift at Christmas, but they do.) “I know about the star on top of the tree.” “People give gifts.” Then, my “star” student stood up. I usually call on him after everyone else has had a chance. I will quote him as I remember his words, perhaps not exactly.
“The God wanted to come to earth, so he spoke to this girl named Maria and told her she would have a baby. She was engaged to a guy Joseph who was very angry when he found out she was pregnant and he wanted to —how shall I say this? ( I said, divorce) something like that, yes. But God talked to him in a dream and said, ‘This is ok. This baby is mine.’ So, they went to Bethlehem and the baby was born there. Then the king was jealous, because people said the baby was a king, so he killed all the babies in that area, so Joseph and Maria had to escape and the baby was ok. Now the calendar used to be only 365 days, they didn’t know about leap year when we have an extra day. So when the king of the Church in Rome (the Pope, I said) yes, his name was Gregory, he changed the calendar to allow for the leap year, so this is why December 25 is Christmas day.”
The young man had his mouth open ready to go on, but as I was probably the only person in the room who had any idea what he was talking about, I said “Thank you, Nate, excellent,” and went on with my presentation about St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, 270—353 AD. Nate had set us up for the calendar part AD and BC, so that went more smoothly than in the other classes.

I ask you, dear reader, do you know a 13 year old child who could give such an account? How about that calendar note, though? And how about IN A SECOND LANGUAGE? Would that I could be so effective a teacher as Nate’s previous teachers have been. I am honored to be his teacher now.

Since neither of us have class on Wednesday, we slept late, enjoyed breakfast, and went out around noon. First we went to a barber shop and got haircuts. Our hair was washed, then cut, then washed again, and blow dried. The cost for this service was 20 rmb each, just under $4.00. Next we went for a long walk in a nearby park. This park includes some classical statuary and a large lake. There are signs in English telling what the statues depict: Cupid and Psyche, Apollo and his chariot. All the pools surrounding the fountains are frozen over. The sun was shining; the sky was blue, and the air crisp and cold, a perfect winter day. After the park we got a bus and went up town and explored a mall. Since land is at a premium, the Chinese build up malls several stories and have huge escalators. It’s all very upscale.

We chose a restaurant featuring steak and a menu with English under the pictures. Having decided what to order, we called the waiter, to learn that they didn’t have that today, or now, we weren’t sure. So we chose something else and enjoyed a dinner, though it was only 3 o’clock, of t-bone steak, allegedly from Texas, French fries, and a large salad. These days we feel allowed to eat fresh vegetables in China. Is it really safer than before? Who knows? For dessert, Dear Husband chose the mango milkshake. The menu showed a chocolate sundae, which I ordered, but the waiter said they didn’t have it. I didn’t want the red bean one.

After walking through the nearly empty mall – the real traffic is in the evening – we went to Hagen-Daz. For three months, I have thought it was a store having sundaes, shakes and all the other wonderful Hagen-Daz delights. However, the man working there said in perfect English, “We only have ice-cream. We have sixteen flavors. You can have one scoop or two.” One scoop cost 33 rmb, 2 cost 59 rmb. I chose one scoop of fabulous chocolate ice cream. We were the only customers in the store. The upholstered seating along the wall is red; the chairs at the tables are upholstered in gold. We sat in the golden chairs and the man brought goblets of water with a slice of lemon for us. Each table held a vase with two fresh pink roses, and a golden wire tree with pine cones and green ribbon. We faced the window with the Christmas tree decorated in red and gold ornaments, ribbons, and toys. From the speaker we heard a reverent solo version of Silent Night, all three verses, sung by a man who sounded like Nat King Cole—remember him? Hard to believe this is China!

On the bus ride home a young woman started talking with us. She is from England and teaches in another school. She has been in the city since September, and was not aware there were other English people so close by. She said she would e-mail me as soon as she got home.

We played Scrabble and the game was not easy or exciting as it sometimes is. We both drew lots of duplicate letters, and they were hard to play. The score was lower than we usually have, but we kept on playing. We play often and are about equally matched; sometimes the score is tied at the end. It doesn’t really matter to us who wins each night. In this game I was behind all the way, considerably behind. But on the last play of the game, the board opened an opportunity. I used all 7 tiles, and got both triple word scores for a total of 149 points and was the winner: a perfect end to a wonderful day.