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At a time of rapid secularization, filmmakers seem intrigued—if sometimes also repelled—by religion.

“But what about the birds that don’t fly south?”
A boy—age six?—arms full of books—is asking.
The library is closing. We’re in line.
“Some birds don’t mind the cold,” a woman answers.
“They have warm nests. Their feathers keep them warm.”
The boy hesitates, then rejoins, “But Grandma . . .”
He hesitates again as if he’s gathered
His grandmother can’t tell him any more.

Alice Hoffman’s Holocaust novel collapses the boundaries between reality and fantasy.

each Nativity
scene I am seen

no matter the time
of night— 
joseph, My Son, and I
are always bathed
in light, no in

Light, bright white
not starlight

but in Sonlight,

although most portray
us there in the
dead of night, no

in the Life of night,

for as was so fore
-told, this

“earth’s most
  prodigious night”
would bring forth the
Nativity of the

Way, the
Truth, and the
Life of My Son,

Deus De Luxe

Matt and Adam discuss aging, gangsters, repentance, and Martin Scorcese's The Irishman

One small deer, perfectly still, pasture barren today and cold.
Three hawks circle overhead, searching. Sudbury’s sky dull
charcoal. A lone coyote crosses leaf-filled yards. Turkeys fatten
and stroll, cautious as they forage. Fragile songs in the trees.
Winter’s whispers sough in the wind and I am listening hard,
Christmas coming as it does, nuanced steps in the darkness.
Those Wise Men of old no longer travel. The man and his wife
are coming. Their baby will arrive in the night while, all around,

Iraqi-born (now US-based) artist Sinan Hussein is one of the painters represented in the traveling exhibit Abraham: Out of One, Many, now showing at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul in Boston (see news story “With exhibit on Abraham, Episcopal cathedral in Boston organizes interfaith conversation”). Welcoming the Stranger displays his signature interplay of surrealism, whimsy, and symbolism.

A seasonal practice: cultivate the patient gaze to describe life as we find it.

Three days without news of the campaign is as good as a stiff martini before dinner,
                  as a long walk in the sunshine, as a long morning in bed with your sweetie.