No chronicler has not committed a chronic Christmas. Some are repeat offenders, are a chronicle of every Christmas Christmas - often the same chronic. Or did. Today a few feel obliged not to miss the date, perhaps because they have depleted over time, ways of treating the subject with a minimum of creativity.
Previously you could do a modern metaphor of the Nativity, the manger as a symbol of humble origins of a social vigilante, Joseph and Mary as the dispossessed (the first homeless) persecuted by the powers of the day, like today, etc.. etc.. Or he could resort to indirect political criticism: the three wise men arrive to the manger bearing myrrh and frankincense only because they had to go to Brasilia and the gold disappeared.
Once described the scene in the manger of the animals' point of view, perplexed by what they see and unable to understand the historical moment they live. My intention, I think, was to make a deep reverie about the neutrality of the natural world before - or behind, as it only serves as a backdrop - the human suffering, and the insignificance of these in contrast to the vast indifference of things. Or something. All this without speaking, of course, in a thousand variations on the figure of Santa Claus and his bag. Everything has been done.
But just not to miss the date, here is my chronicle of Christmas this year, in category reminiscences with lessons, has also used a lot.
There was always a Christmas tree to our house, from the pine trees at the time of Scandinavian furniture that was like my mother called the Norwegian cod brought in crates of the market and turned into tables and shelves. When the situation improved Christmas tree grew.
Eventually, suffering from ecological awareness, we changed the pine for a true synthetic, that is what is in the room now, all decorated with a humble star at the point where, at Christmas 2006, waved a photograph of Gabiru, who scored that gave the world championship that year the International, vent and ellipsis.
My mother was religious, but our Christmas has never been religious. Sometimes there is more Jewish friends than Christians in last night's dinner in our house. And here comes the implication, since it is discussing both belief and disbelief in God. The symbols of Christmas gives us a lot more things, and things more important than questions of faith. We are together, we like a lot, that's what we celebrate every year. And nothing more distant than the theological speculations Lucinda circling the tree, trying to guess which of these are yours.
Previously you could do a modern metaphor of the Nativity, the manger as a symbol of humble origins of a social vigilante, Joseph and Mary as the dispossessed (the first homeless) persecuted by the powers of the day, like today, etc.. etc.. Or he could resort to indirect political criticism: the three wise men arrive to the manger bearing myrrh and frankincense only because they had to go to Brasilia and the gold disappeared.
Once described the scene in the manger of the animals' point of view, perplexed by what they see and unable to understand the historical moment they live. My intention, I think, was to make a deep reverie about the neutrality of the natural world before - or behind, as it only serves as a backdrop - the human suffering, and the insignificance of these in contrast to the vast indifference of things. Or something. All this without speaking, of course, in a thousand variations on the figure of Santa Claus and his bag. Everything has been done.
But just not to miss the date, here is my chronicle of Christmas this year, in category reminiscences with lessons, has also used a lot.
There was always a Christmas tree to our house, from the pine trees at the time of Scandinavian furniture that was like my mother called the Norwegian cod brought in crates of the market and turned into tables and shelves. When the situation improved Christmas tree grew.
Eventually, suffering from ecological awareness, we changed the pine for a true synthetic, that is what is in the room now, all decorated with a humble star at the point where, at Christmas 2006, waved a photograph of Gabiru, who scored that gave the world championship that year the International, vent and ellipsis.
My mother was religious, but our Christmas has never been religious. Sometimes there is more Jewish friends than Christians in last night's dinner in our house. And here comes the implication, since it is discussing both belief and disbelief in God. The symbols of Christmas gives us a lot more things, and things more important than questions of faith. We are together, we like a lot, that's what we celebrate every year. And nothing more distant than the theological speculations Lucinda circling the tree, trying to guess which of these are yours.
por Luiz Fernando Verissimo