[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 147 (2001), Part 20]
[Senate]
[Page 27916]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]



                      THE REAL STORY OF CHRISTMAS

  Mr. BYRD. Now, Mr. President, we are just a few days from Christmas, 
a few days from the morning when millions of children tumble out of 
their warm beds, awaken their parents, rush to the family room, and 
look, with gleeful delight, at the bows, the boxes, and the bundles 
under the tree.
  This is one of my favorite times of the year--a time of joy, a time 
of love, a time of family gatherings and warm memories.
  I remember the Christmas presents waiting for me when I was a boy 
back there during the Great Depression in the hard hills of Mercer 
County in southern West Virginia. There was not an electric light in 
the house--no electricity, no running water, but there was an orange or 
a drawing book or a set of pencils or a set of water colors, or a 
geography book that I had been wanting.
  My family did not have great material wealth, but we always had a 
wealth of love. The two old people who raised me, they are in Heaven 
tonight. They are in Heaven. We did not have fancy toys in those days. 
We celebrated the season for its true meaning: the birth of the Christ 
Child.
  Now, I respect every man's or woman's religion. I respect their 
religion. If it is Moslem, I respect their religion. I can listen to 
the prayers of any churchman or any layman. I can respect them all 
because who am I? I am unworthy of God's blessings. I can respect them.
  So my wife Erma and I have passed those lessons on to our children, 
our grandchildren, and our great-grandchildren.
  In recent years, however, that meaning has been drowned out by a 
society that is focused more on the perfect gift or the latest gadget 
or the hottest-selling toy. Our attention is on store sales and Santa 
Claus rather than on the true meaning of Christmas.
  Now, I am a Christian. I believe in Christ. I am not very worthy, but 
I believe in Him. I respect anyone who does not. I respect anyone who 
believes that He was, that He lived, He was a historic figure, He was a 
prophet. They may not believe He is the Messiah--I do--but it does not 
lesson my respect for others.
  I will listen to them at any time. But I think all of us have to 
agree that this was a great event that happened that split the 
centuries in two, and the years that were before Christ are numbered, 
the years that are after Christ numbered differently. This was some, 
some happening. No matter what we believe or do not believe, it is 
still recognized by all that there was a man named Jesus Christ.
  And so no matter what our religion, I think we ought to understand 
this was more than just an ordinary happening, more than just an 
ordinary man.
  At its core, the season has not changed. Christmas will always be, to 
me, about a family that found no shelter but a manger, and also about a 
newborn child who would become, in my viewpoint, the Saviour of the 
world.
  As Luke wrote in his Gospel:

       And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I 
     bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all 
     people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a 
     Savior, which is Christ the Lord.

  Good tidings. Great joy. How many people think of those words 
standing in the long lines of their local shopping malls?
  I worry that too many of us, in the hectic pace of the modern world, 
have forgotten the true spirit of Christmas, have forgotten what this 
is really all about. They have forgotten the true meaning. The story of 
the birth of Christ has been overshadowed by the pressures and the 
strains of a commercialized holiday.
  Families will spend hours at shopping malls, waiting in long lines, 
rather than in the company of loved ones or in a church or in a place 
of worship celebrating in song or prayer. They will become obsessed 
with purchases and the gifts they may receive. Children will 
meticulously craft the perfect list of toys and will worry that grandma 
will again, this Christmas, buy them another sweater that they will 
never wear. Sadly, the Christmas season has become the shopping season. 
A time for joy and spiritual reflection has drowned in the shallow 
waters of greed.
  That does not need to be. We can return to the true meaning of 
Christmas. During this holiday, I urge all Americans to reflect on 
their families and their faith--whatever their faith--and to read the 
story of Jesus' birth in the Gospels. Look up into the night sky and 
pick the Star of Wonder that led the wise men to Bethlehem to offer 
gifts to the Christ Child. Join with family and friends to sing a 
Christmas carol, share a meal, and reflect on the blessings we have 
been given. Visit each other, one another's church or synagogue or 
whatever. Go join and visit and enjoy this season. Perhaps the 
materialism that has come to dominate the season will fade and we can 
begin to truly understand the great and glorious story of Christmas.
  And so, Mr. President:
     'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
     Thought it scarcely worth his while
     To waste much time on the old violin,
     But held it up with a smile:
     ``What am I bidden, good folks,'' he cried,
     ``Who'll start the bidding for me?''
     ``A dollar, a dollar''; then, ``Two!'' ``Only two?
     Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
     Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
     Going for three--'' But no,
     From the room, far back, a gray-haired man
     Came forward and picked up the bow;
     Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
     And tightening the loose strings,
     He played a melody pure and sweet
     As a caroling angel sings.
     The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
     With a voice that was quiet and low,
     Said, ``What am I bid for the old violin?''
     And he held it up with the bow.
     ``A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
     Two thousand! and who'll make it three?
     Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
     And going, and gone,'' said he.
     The people cheered, but some of them cried,
     ``We do not quite understand
     What changed its worth.'' Swift came the reply:
     ``The touch of a master's hand.''
     And many a man with life out of tune,
     And battered and scarred with sin,
     Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
     Much like the old violin.
     A ``mess of pottage,'' a glass of wine;
     A game--and he travels on.
     He is ``going'' once, and ``going'' twice,
     He's ``going'' and almost ``gone.''
     But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
     Never can quite understand
     The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
     By the touch of the Master's hand.

  Mr. President, I yield the floor.
  The PRESIDENT pro tempore. The Senator from New Jersey.

                          ____________________