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Midweek Review

Christmas: What it means and how it began

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By Uditha Devapriya

Celebrated by over two billion people across the world, Christmas commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ, a fact reflected even in translation: Naththal in Sinhala and Kristumas in Tamil. While most of its symbols were later cultural borrowings, its essence survives through the life story of Christ as related in the New Testament, in particular the four Gospels, two of which directly refer to Christ’s birth or Nativity: Matthew and Luke. The exact biographical details come to us from second-hand accounts, as with other religious leaders from that period, but what all these narratives tell us is the story of a poor carpenter’s son, preaching salvation and earning the ire and retribution of the government of Roman Judea.

We do not know whether December 25 was the actual date of the Nativity or whether it was a date chosen by the first Church fathers. The early Church taught, prophesied, and awaited the Second Coming of Christ (Acts 1:11 — “this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven”).

Scholars have conjectured that the need for a chronology charting the annunciation, nativity, crucifixion, and resurrection first cropped up when the early Church fathers felt the need to combat paganism and could no longer resort to the Second Coming as their justifying prophecy. One way of achieving this was by Christianising pagan rituals. The early fathers approved of this tactic: St Justin said that a noble thought, “wherever it comes from, is the property of Christians”, while St Ambrose declared that “all truth, whoever its interpreter may be, comes from the Holy Spirit.” On the other hand, Quintus Tertullian, a 2nd century Church leader, frankly wondered, “What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?”

When Christianity expanded from Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Jerusalem to the far corners of the Roman Empire, it embraced these rituals. The process was doubtless slow, and yet by the 4th century AD missionaries had converted vast swathes of the Empire, meeting success or martyrdom depending on where they were and who held power.

They operated on the twofold division of the Empire: between the Greek, the eastern side of the Mediterranean, and the Latin, the western side of the Mediterranean. From this division was born the rift between the Orthodox and the Catholic (and Protestant) church. It was the eastern side which first celebrated the coming of Christ, but they did so on a different date, January 6, and called it Epiphany or “manifestation.” The first commentaries on Epiphany come to us in the 2nd and 3rd century AD from a Church father, Clement of Alexandria, and as with much of the Roman Empire, the date seems to have been selected to compete with the Egyptian winter solstice. However, this theory has been critiqued.

On the Western side the evolution of Nativity took a different turn. The first written account demarcating December 25 as the day of Christ’s birth comes from the 4th century AD. Back then it was called the Feast of the Nativity. The main focus, historians tell us, was to combat various pagan cults and rituals celebrated by the Romans.

Three rituals took place between November and January: Saturnalia on December 17, Kalends (the first day of the Roman New Year) on January 1, and between them, the winter solstice, which in the reign of Emperor Aurelian (270–275 AD) was renamed “Sol Invictus” or the Festival of the Unconquered Sun and celebrated on December 25. That this was the ritual the Church fathers combated can be confirmed by the Chronograph of 354, a collection of Roman dates in which the entry for December 25 reads “Natalis Invicti Circenses Missus.” While this view has been contested, there is no doubt that the choice of December had to do with the popularity of pagan rituals among commoners and even the nobility.

The spirit of Nativity and all that it symbolised was eventually assimilated to this date. It’s a sign of how gradual and slow the process of converting people to the new religion was that in the early years, Church fathers from both sides of the Empire would complain of how locals worshipped the sun deity (the “Sol” of Sol Invictus) and only later attended the church. Leo I or Leo the Great, among the most important early Roman pontiffs, wrote of how “full of grief and vexation” he was at seeing followers bowing to the rising sun before entering the Basilica (a practice he condemned as an “old superstition”), while Gregory of Nazianzen, Archbishop of Constantinople (on the Greek side), urged that Christmas be celebrated “after an heavenly and not after an earthly manner”, drawing a distinction between the spiritual and the material and cautioning against “feasting to excess, dancing, and crowning the doors” — all hallmarks of festivals celebrated in the Empire. East and West met later on when the period between December 25 and January 6 was held as sacred by the Council of Tours in 567 AD; today this is known as the Twelve Days of Christmas.

To be sure, other days had been proposed earlier. Clement of Alexandria favoured November 18, Hippolytus of Rome thought that Christ was born on a Wednesday, and a document titled De Paschæ Computes written in 243 AD placed the date of his birth on March 28, “four days after God created the world.” By the time of the Norman conquest of 1066 AD, not only the date but also the name of the festival had been finalised: the word “Christmas” enters the lexicon as Crīstesmæsse in 1038 AD, and by the 13th century it had spread through the rest of Europe, where priests encountered and converted the pagan. If in Rome the fathers had to face Sol Invictus, in Germany further north they had to face Yule, which began with the winter solstice five days after the Saturnalia on December 22. From that emerged the festival we know as Yuletide, the main symbol of which, of course, is the Yule log.

Much of the history and evolution of Christmas to what it has become today, therefore, has to do with a tussle and later amalgamation between the spiritual and the ritualistic. On one hand, we have Christmas carols, which evolved from medieval hymns; on the other hand, we have Christmas cards, the first of which would be printed in 1843. In fact the 19th century is crucial, since much of what counts for symbols in Christmas emerged from the womb of Victorian England: a period in which, as the historian Robert Tombs has observed, people “believed in God” but “also in Progress, and commonly linked the two beliefs.”

At a time when industrialisation swept through Britain (along with Western Europe) at a rate unprecedented in history, the secular aspects of Christmas triumphed over the spiritual, which caused something of a backlash; you see that backlash in certain popular works of art from that time; particularly the novels of Charles Dickens, who immortalised Christmas in A Christmas Carol (although curiously and incongruously enough that story makes no mention of that most beloved embodiment of the season, Santa Claus).

Santa Claus, even carols and trees, not to mention cards and lights, clearly show that while a division did exist between the spiritual and the material, the separation was not always that clear-cut. For instance, Santa Claus’s “ancestor” was Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra (modern day Turkey), who performed many miracles, was forgotten after his passing away and revived as the centre of a cult in Slavic countries such as Russia and the Ukraine, migrating from the East to the West across the Atlantic through the historical fiction of Washington Irving and the illustrations of Haddon Sundblom, whose drawing of a jolly, bearded, old, red suited, ho-ho-hoing man in 1931 entered the popular culture. The illustration had been for a Coca-Cola ad, and it seems to have stuck on with the popular consciousness thereafter.

Thus the division between what was spiritual and what was not eroded, so much so that nothing separates the two; Christmas trees, to give another example, originated in Germany, yet it was also in Germany that, in the 19th century, the first “commercial” Christmas trees were decorated and planted. Carols, to give still another example, were preceded by hymns in medieval Europe, but even after they were popularised it wouldn’t be until 1833 that William Sandy would publish Christmas Carols, Ancient and Modern. Other examples, multiplied a hundred or so times over, would serve to underscore exactly how Dickens’s “Christmas past” and “Christmas present” came together: not unlike how Buddhist philosophy absorbed local culture, leading to the “glamourisation” of Vesak in modern times.

Today, of course, calls are being made for Christmas to turn into more than just a festive season, in which charity, goodwill, and forgiveness triumph over greed and consumerism. In a period that witnessed an act of abominable, unforgivable violence against an otherwise peaceful community in Sri Lanka, our sincerest wish would then be that these values not only triumph, but that Christ’s message of peace and amity, preached more than a thousand years ago, prevents a return to violence and fanaticism.

 

The writer can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com

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Midweek Review

‘Professor of English Language Teaching’

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It is a pleasure to be here today, when the University resumes postgraduate work in English and Education which we first embarked on over 20 years ago. The presence of a Professor on English Language Teaching from Kelaniya makes clear that the concept has now been mainstreamed, which is a cause for great satisfaction.

Twenty years ago, this was not the case. Our initiative was looked at askance, as indeed was the initiative which Prof. Arjuna Aluwihare engaged in as UGC Chairman to make degrees in English more widely available. Those were the days in which the three established Departments of English in the University system, at Peradeniya and Kelaniya and Colombo, were unbelievably conservative. Their contempt for his efforts made him turn to Sri Jayewardenepura, which did not even have a Department of English then and only offered it as one amongst three subjects for a General Degree.

Ironically, the most dogmatic defence of this exclusivity came from Colombo, where the pioneer in English teaching had been Prof. Chitra Wickramasuriya, whose expertise was, in fact, in English teaching. But her successor, when I tried to suggest reforms, told me proudly that their graduates could go on to do postgraduate degrees at Cambridge. I suppose that, for generations brought up on idolization of E. F. C. Ludowyke, that was the acme of intellectual achievement.

I should note that the sort of idealization of Ludowyke, the then academic establishment engaged in was unfair to a very broadminded man. It was the Kelaniya establishment that claimed that he ‘maintained high standards, but was rarefied and Eurocentric and had an inhibiting effect on creative writing’. This was quite preposterous coming from someone who removed all Sri Lankan and other post-colonial writing from an Advanced Level English syllabus. That syllabus, I should mention, began with Jacobean poetry about the cherry-cheeked charms of Englishwomen. And such a characterization of Ludowyke totally ignored his roots in Sri Lanka, his work in drama which helped Sarachchandra so much, and his writing including ‘Those Long Afternoons’, which I am delighted that a former Sabaragamuwa student, C K Jayanetti, hopes to resurrect.

I have gone at some length into the situation in the nineties because I notice that your syllabus includes in the very first semester study of ‘Paradigms in Sri Lankan English Education’. This is an excellent idea, something which we did not have in our long-ago syllabus. But that was perhaps understandable since there was little to study then except a history of increasing exclusivity, and a betrayal of the excuse for getting the additional funding those English Departments received. They claimed to be developing teachers of English for the nation; complete nonsense, since those who were knowledgeable about cherries ripening in a face were not likely to move to rural areas in Sri Lanka to teach English. It was left to the products of Aluwihare’s initiative to undertake that task.

Another absurdity of that period, which seems so far away now, was resistance to training for teaching within the university system. When I restarted English medium education in the state system in Sri Lanka, in 2001, and realized what an uphill struggle it was to find competent teachers, I wrote to all the universities asking that they introduce modules in teacher training. I met condign refusal from all except, I should note with continuing gratitude, from the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, where Paru Nagasunderam introduced it for the external degree. When I started that degree, I had taken a leaf out of Kelaniya’s book and, in addition to English Literature and English Language, taught as two separate subjects given the language development needs of students, made the third subject Classics. But in time I realized that was not at all useful. Thankfully, that left a hole which ELT filled admirably at the turn of the century.

The title of your keynote speaker today, Professor of English Language Teaching, is clear evidence of how far we have come from those distant days, and how thankful we should be that a new generation of practical academics such as her and Dinali Fernando at Kelaniya, Chitra Jayatilleke and Madhubhashini Ratnayake at USJP and the lively lot at the Postgraduate Institute of English at the Open University are now making the running. I hope Sabaragamuwa under its current team will once again take its former place at the forefront of innovation.

To get back to your curriculum, I have been asked to teach for the paper on Advanced Reading and Writing in English. I worried about this at first since it is a very long time since I have taught, and I feel the old energy and enthusiasm are rapidly fading. But having seen the care with which the syllabus has been designed, I thought I should try to revive my flagging capabilities.

However, I have suggested that the university prescribe a textbook for this course since I think it is essential, if the rounded reading prescribed is to be done, that students should have ready access to a range of material. One of the reasons I began while at the British Council an intensive programme of publications was that students did not read round their texts. If a novel was prescribed, they read that novel and nothing more. If particular poems were prescribed, they read those poems and nothing more. This was especially damaging in the latter case since the more one read of any poet the more one understood what he was expressing.

Though given the short notice I could not prepare anything, I remembered a series of school textbooks I had been asked to prepare about 15 years ago by International Book House for what were termed international schools offering the local syllabus in the English medium. Obviously, the appalling textbooks produced by the Ministry of Education in those days for the rather primitive English syllabus were unsuitable for students with more advanced English. So, I put together more sophisticated readers which proved popular. I was heartened too by a very positive review of these by Dinali Fernando, now at Kelaniya, whose approach to students has always been both sympathetic and practical.

I hope then that, in addition to the texts from the book that I will discuss, students will read other texts in the book. In addition to poetry and fiction the book has texts on politics and history and law and international relations, about which one would hope postgraduate students would want some basic understanding.

Similarly, I do hope whoever teaches about Paradigms in English Education will prescribe a textbook so that students will understand more about what has been going on. Unfortunately, there has been little published about this but at least some students will I think benefit from my book on English and Education: In Search of Equity and Excellence? which Godage & Bros brought out in 2016. And then there was Lakmahal Justified: Taking English to the People, which came out in 2018, though that covers other topics too and only particular chapters will be relevant.

The former book is bulky but I believe it is entertaining as well. So, to conclude I will quote from it, to show what should not be done in Education and English. For instance, it is heartening that you are concerned with ‘social integration, co-existence and intercultural harmony’ and that you want to encourage ‘sensitivity towards different cultural and linguistic identities’. But for heaven’s sake do not do it as the NIE did several years ago in exaggerating differences. In those dark days, they produced textbooks which declared that ‘Muslims are better known as heavy eaters and have introduced many tasty dishes to the country. Watalappam and Buriani are some of these dishes. A distinguished feature of the Muslims is that they sit on the floor and eat food from a single plate to show their brotherhood. They eat string hoppers and hoppers for breakfast. They have rice and curry for lunch and dinner.’ The Sinhalese have ‘three hearty meals a day’ and ‘The ladies wear the saree with a difference and it is called the Kandyan saree’. Conversely, the Tamils ‘who live mainly in the northern and eastern provinces … speak the Tamil language with a heavy accent’ and ‘are a close-knit group with a heavy cultural background’’.

And for heaven’s sake do not train teachers by telling them that ‘Still the traditional ‘Transmission’ and the ‘Transaction’ roles are prevalent in the classroom. Due to the adverse standard of the school leavers, it has become necessary to develop the learning-teaching process. In the ‘Transmission’ role, the student is considered as someone who does not know anything and the teacher transmits knowledge to him or her. This inhibits the development of the student.

In the ‘Transaction’ role, the dialogue that the teacher starts with the students is the initial stage of this (whatever this might be). Thereafter, from the teacher to the class and from the class to the teacher, ideas flow and interaction between student-student too starts afterwards and turns into a dialogue. From known to unknown, simple to complex are initiated and for this to happen, the teacher starts questioning.

And while avoiding such tedious jargon, please make sure their command of the language is better than to produce sentences such as these, or what was seen in an English text, again thankfully several years ago:

Read the story …

Hello! We are going to the zoo. “Do you like to join us” asked Sylvia. “Sorry, I can’t I’m going to the library now. Anyway, have a nice time” bye.

So Syliva went to the zoo with her parents. At the entrance her father bought tickets. First, they went to see the monkeys

She looked at a monkey. It made a funny face and started swinging Sylvia shouted: “He is swinging look now it is hanging from its tail its marvellous”

“Monkey usually do that’

I do hope your students will not hang from their tails as these monkeys do.

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Midweek Review

Little known composers of classical super-hits

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By Satyajith Andradi

 

Quite understandably, the world of classical music is dominated by the brand images of great composers. It is their compositions that we very often hear. Further, it is their life histories that we get to know. In fact, loads of information associated with great names starting with Beethoven, Bach and Mozart has become second nature to classical music aficionados. The classical music industry, comprising impresarios, music publishers, record companies, broadcasters, critics, and scholars, not to mention composers and performers, is largely responsible for this. However, it so happens that classical music lovers are from time to time pleasantly struck by the irresistible charm and beauty of classical pieces, the origins of which are little known, if not through and through obscure. Intriguingly, most of these musical gems happen to be classical super – hits. This article attempts to present some of these famous pieces and their little-known composers.

 

Pachelbel’s Canon in D

The highly popular piece known as Pachelbel’s Canon in D constitutes the first part of Johann Pachelbel’s ‘Canon and Gigue in D major for three violins and basso continuo’. The second part of the work, namely the gigue, is rarely performed. Pachelbel was a German organist and composer. He was born in Nuremburg in 1653, and was held in high esteem during his life time. He held many important musical posts including that of organist of the famed St Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna. He was the teacher of Bach’s elder brother Johann Christoph. Bach held Pachelbel in high regard, and used his compositions as models during his formative years as a composer. Pachelbel died in Nuremburg in 1706.

Pachelbel’s Canon in D is an intricate piece of contrapuntal music. The melodic phrases played by one voice are strictly imitated by the other voices. Whilst the basso continuo constitutes a basso ostinato, the other three voices subject the original tune to tasteful variation. Although the canon was written for three violins and continuo, its immense popularity has resulted in the adoption of the piece to numerous other combinations of instruments. The music is intensely soothing and uplifting. Understandingly, it is widely played at joyous functions such as weddings.

 

Jeremiah Clarke’s Trumpet Voluntary

The hugely popular piece known as ‘Jeremiah Clarke’s Trumpet Voluntary’ appeared originally as ‘ The Prince of Denmark’s March’ in Jeremiah Clarke’s book ‘ Choice lessons for the Harpsichord and Spinet’, which was published in 1700 ( Michael Kennedy; Oxford Dictionary of Music ). Sometimes, it has also been erroneously attributed to England’s greatest composer Henry Purcell (1659 – 1695 ) and called ‘Purcell’s Trumpet Voluntary (Percy A. Scholes ; Oxford Companion to Music). This brilliant composition is often played at joyous occasions such as weddings and graduation ceremonies. Needless to say, it is a piece of processional music, par excellence. As its name suggests, it is probably best suited for solo trumpet and organ. However, it is often played for different combinations of instruments, with or without solo trumpet. It was composed by the English composer and organist Jeremiah Clarke.

Jeremiah Clarke was born in London in 1670. He was, like his elder contemporary Pachelbel, a musician of great repute during his time, and held important musical posts. He was the organist of London’s St. Paul’s Cathedral and the composer of the Theatre Royal. He died in London in 1707 due to self – inflicted gun – shot injuries, supposedly resulting from a failed love affair.

 

Albinoni’s Adagio

The full title of the hugely famous piece known as ‘Albinoni’s Adagio’ is ‘Adagio for organ and strings in G minor’. However, due to its enormous popularity, the piece has been arranged for numerous combinations of instruments. It is also rendered as an organ solo. The composition, which epitomizes pathos, is structured as a chaconne with a brooding bass, which reminds of the inevitability and ever presence of death. Nonetheless, there is no trace of despondency in this ethereal music. On the contrary, its intense euphony transcends the feeling of death and calms the soul. The composition has been attributed to the Italian composer Tomaso Albinoni (1671 – 1750), who was a contemporary of Bach and Handel. However, the authorship of the work is shrouded in mystery. Michael Kennedy notes: “The popular Adagio for organ and strings in G minor owes very little to Albinoni, having been constructed from a MS fragment by the twentieth century Italian musicologist Remo Giazotto, whose copyright it is” (Michael Kennedy; Oxford Dictionary of Music).

 

Boccherini’s Minuet

The classical super-hit known as ‘Boccherini’s Minuet’ is quite different from ‘Albinoni’s Adagio’. It is a short piece of absolutely delightful music. It was composed by the Italian cellist and composer Luigi Boccherini. It belongs to his string quintet in E major, Op. 13, No. 5. However, due to its immense popularity, the minuet is performed on different combinations of instruments.

Boccherini was born in Lucca in 1743. He was a contemporary of Haydn and Mozart, and an elder contemporary of Beethoven. He was a prolific composer. His music shows considerable affinity to that of Haydn. He lived in Madrid for a considerable part of his life, and was attached to the royal court of Spain as a chamber composer. Boccherini died in poverty in Madrid in 1805.

Like numerous other souls, I have found immense joy by listening to popular classical pieces like Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Jeremiah Clarke’s Trumpet Voluntary, Albinoni’s Adagio and Boccherini’s Minuet. They have often helped me to unwind and get over the stresses of daily life. Intriguingly, such music has also made me wonder how our world would have been if the likes of Bach, Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert had never lived. Surely, the world would have been immeasurably poorer without them. However, in all probability, we would have still had Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Jeremiah Clarke’s Trumpet Voluntary, Albinoni’s Adagio, and Boccherini’s Minuet, to cheer us up and uplift our spirits.

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Midweek Review

The Tax Payer and the Tough

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By Lynn Ockersz

The tax owed by him to Caesar,

Leaves our retiree aghast…

How is he to foot this bill,

With the few rupees,

He has scraped together over the months,

In a shrinking savings account,

While the fires in his crumbling hearth,

Come to a sputtering halt?

But in the suave villa next door,

Stands a hulk in shiny black and white,

Over a Member of the August House,

Keeping an eagle eye,

Lest the Rep of great renown,

Be besieged by petitioners,

Crying out for respite,

From worries in a hand-to-mouth life,

But this thought our retiree horrifies:

Aren’t his hard-earned rupees,

Merely fattening Caesar and his cohorts?

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