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A note from the President of Student Foundation:

“Indeed, there is a spirit that walks these hills…” – Donald Cowan On Monday, November 16, 2015, Louis Cowan passed away at the age of 98. While I have never had the chance to meet Louis, her and Donald’s legacy have left a lasting mark on our school. The Cowans’ vision not only shaped the Core and the Rome program but also imparted a spirit that often captures the hearts and minds of UD students and faculty. I have heard from many professors that they love teaching at UD because the students care about what they learn. I have had many concerned conversations with other seniors about leaving a place in which we have had a love affair with Truth grounded in our Catholic Faith. While this spirit is often recognized, it is rarely articulated. Perhaps the imperative of our motto gives it the best formulation: Veritatem, Justitiam Deligite. Love truth, love justice.

Last year, Dr. Mirus gave an analogy of a tapestry woven together, in which each string is a person. There is a certain pattern that will make the most beautiful picture in any given community of lives that are woven together. The Cowans, with their visionary spirit, saw the pattern that UD might weave to form students committed to loving Truth and Justice. Donald Cowan described UD: “In this place, where tradition is alive because it has meaning, the new will always be with us.” This love that the spirit of UD imparts prepares students to issue forth into America to encounter “the new” with the strong foundation of the living tradition that dances through the esprit de corps of the University. Thank you, Donald and Louis, for your selfless dedication to fanning the flame of Truth entrusted to this place.

-Charlie Archer President of the Student Foundation An Apology From the AG Editor: “There is no more dangerous or disgusting habit than that of celebrating Christmas before it comes, as I am doing in this article. It is the very essence of a festival that it breaks upon one brilliantly and abruptly, that at one moment the great day is not and the next moment the great day is.” --G.K. Chesterton, All Things Considered The editor hopes you will not consider this issue a disgusting display of pre-Christmas celebration, but will instead decide to cozy up to your fireplace and cider (or for my fellow Old-Mill dwellers… just to your cider) and enjoy this publication with all the style of Killian, the joy of G.K. Chesterton, and the sophisticated mind of a true UDGroundhogian. Merry Christmas and God Bless from the Avant Guard!

The official guide to reading the Avant Guard in style here provided by Killian Beeler:

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The Works:

UD Christmas Card….………………………………………………..……………....4 -Charlie Turner What’s so great about teachers?....……………………………………………………5 -Dr. Louise Cowan Ten Things You Do In college………………………………….………………………...7 -Kate Gapp The Christmas Aeneid………………….…………………………………....………..9 -John Wilson Stars Glimmer on the Ground………………………………………...……….…….11 -Jonathon Cunningham Christmas Carols!…………………………..………………………...……….……...12 Our Spiritual Heartbeat…………………………………………………………...…14 -Charlie Archer #UD Probs…………………………………………………….………..…………..16 -Angela Simon Christmas in the Golden Time…………………………………..………..…....…….17 -Sir Walter Scott, Aaron Kim & Olivia Close A Christmas Wish…………………………………………….………..……………18 -Aspen Daniels

Artwork………………………………………………………………...19 -Anne Beck

Thanks to All those who donated time, skills, and submissions Especially the wonderful Avant Guardians: Front Cover………………………………………………………..Cecilia Lang Back Cover……………………………………………………...Annie Johnson Editors…….…………………..Aaron Kim, Hannah Glick, and Tricia Bernardo Sketches………………………………………………………….....Cecilia Lang Publicity…………..……...………..………………………………….. Jeff Fink

Special thanks, as always, to Mrs. Sybil Novinski, Dean Sanford, Killian Beeler, Alex Taylor, and Jeff Richards for all your support!

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UD Christmas Card Good ole UD, way up on a hill, Usually hot, is now cloaked in a chill; Northerners scoff as Texans are freezin'-With cheery hearts, it's home for the season.

The semester was full--papers and tests-We're eager for home, mom's cooking and rest.

Sorry, Dr. Hanssen, I'm done with Am Civ, It's time for family--to love and to give.

This season is meant to be spent with others, To Just Be with all of our sisters and brothers.

So this year, be at peace! Try to do less!

And from up on the hill: Merry Christmas!

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What’s so great about teachers?

An Article by Dr. Louise Cowan, for the Dallas Morning News,

We think so much about teachers at the Dallas Institute and smart so keenly at the injustices done to them that we have to avoid becoming like mad old King Lear, who attributes every wrong in his world — including thunderstorms — to the ingratitude of daughters. Or like the monomaniac Ahab in MobyDick, who steers the Pequod away from its course in pursuit of the white whale, piling on the creature the evils of human suffering.

Indeed, we are so greatly and, I might say, justifiably aware of the indignities done to teachers today that we are likely to overdo it — assigning to them not just their rightful share but all the benevolent qualities in the relationship between generations. And this, we must admit, is a slight exaggeration. For certainly we have to acknowledge the instruction given by parents and others in the art of just being human. Ordinary people teach others in all sorts of ways.

But though such mentors may instruct, they are not teachers, dedicated persons who profess as their lifework the twofold task of forming the young for their own sake and, even more important, for society’s. Teachers are instructing the young not primarily to enable them to succeed in life but to preserve and extend the valuable parts of civilization.

But why do teachers generally need to undertake this task? Why don’t we leave education of the young to their own biological connections? Birds do it; dogs do it; why shouldn’t we do it? The answer, of course, is that on the most basic level we do. But just as putting a Band-Aid on someone’s injured finger doesn’t make one a doctor, so giving direction in the normal skills and activities of daily living doesn’t make one a teacher. Schools have a unique purpose — the formation of citizens who are knowledgeable and wise enough to govern themselves.

And this is one of the things wrong with our educational philosophy. We’ve made teaching more like behavioral instruction (like the training of young animals) than the drawing out of noble aspects in rational and imaginative beings. We’ve neglected the elevating metaphors — those bundles of symbolic content revealing nobility that would otherwise remain hidden. We have become almost completely fact- and skill-centered, and our incessant testing is only one evidence of such reduction.

A teacher is not really needed for the mastery of facts and skills. To gain this sort of information something simply has to capture a student’s attention long enough for bits of data to sink in. A film, a cellphone, a game, an iPad — these are adequate vehicles for the acquisition of information and skills. And for almost a century now we have increasingly reduced education to this sort of robotic learning and are beginning, in all areas of our national life, to face the consequences. For facts are mere information, and skills are mere habits of behavior. Neither is necessarily related to principles and virtues needing to be instilled in our young if democracy is to survive.

Sometime last century, we started substituting the word “value” for the older word “virtue.” Virtue, from the Latin virtus, the Old French vertu, means strength. What is implied in its American usage is strength of character, moral goodness. There is a moral law to which people are subject if they are to have civilization instead of anarchy or tyranny. And though political freedom does not concern the salvation of souls, it does concern, as our forefathers noted, “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” To have a free society requires that we uphold and practice certain public virtues.

We have been encouraged by psychological and social scientists to speak of virtues as “values,” as though they were trinkets we happen to value. Thus democracy, freedom, justice may only be our “values,” but our preferences — we are told — should not be considered better than others’. The intellectual world and the media have been so fearful of American bigotry and intolerance that they have had to make it seem that all our convictions are related only to ourselves. We must give material help to other nations, supply them with food, weapons and instruments, but not intrude on their values. Our nobler aspirations have become, in public parlance, simply “values.”

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Until fairly recently, moral law had not been thought to be merely subjective. It had been considered to be written on the human heart, universally valuable, the inerrant guide to civilization for all, worth striving and even dying for. And these cultural qualities that we used to consider the virtues are the responsibility of teachers.

For teachers are the representatives of a culture. Their task is to ensure the passing on of the wisdom of a people. We mistake educational aims when we consider their task to be primarily the development of the student. That is a secondary purpose, the primary one being the preservation of the body of knowledge that produced the precious enterprise called civilization.

The enemy of education is barbarism. The teacher’s duty is thus to fight off that ever-present menace by preserving and transmitting the heritage of freedom and virtue that has come to us from the past but is always open to new insights and new communities. Our sacred bond as a people is the public school teacher’s greatest concern.

American teachers, then, should be educated in ways quite different from the ways in which most have been schooled for almost a century. They need an education in the best that has been thought in the long Western recording if, as I’m arguing, they are the conveyors of our culture. They need to be considered dedicated professionals who have committed themselves to the preservation and transmission of a people’s body of knowledge. Other motives — the discovery of new knowledge, the development of the student’s personal talents, the amelioration of social ills — are byproducts that may or may not ensue from the primary task.

What stands between the West, then, and the barbarism that constantly threatens the human project is the work of Homer and Sophocles, Plato and Dante, Augustine and Shakespeare, Newton and Einstein and hundreds of other thinkers. Teachers don’t have to study all these writings directly, but they do have to know that they exist and are still relevant. And they have to have sampled enough of this serious body of knowledge to experience the pride and humility of knowing that we stand upon the shoulders of giants. In T.S. Eliot’s “Tradition and the Individual Talent,” when he posits someone’s remarking that we know so much more now than they did in the past, he replies, “Yes, and they are what we know.”

Beginning in our own epoch and increasing in the future, a technological storm of information will besiege us. In this artificial world, the imagination will have to suffice. Language will have to do the work of our senses: seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling. But we teachers, we nurturers of souls will still exist. Above all else, we shall have to teach what it is to be human, what it is to love parents and friends, to revere our nation, the world and life — what it means to have feelings, sentiments, convictions, faith, hope and love. We shall have to teach the virtues.

And for this, we shall need to be shaped by the great thinkers who have gone before us, which it is the business of our schools to provide. Teachers are the medium through which the present makes contact with the past while anticipating the future. Without properly educated teachers the human project sinks into barbarism.

Dostoevsky wrote that when men stop believing in God, many of them become criminals. I’m saying that when we stop teaching the highest and noblest aspects of our past, too many of our most idealistic young will become mass murderers, whatever kind of weapon they use. More important than banning assault weapons is the recovery of the best of our tradition.

As Alexis de Tocqueville commented in the 19th century, American democracy is something that doesn’t come naturally, so unique that it has to be taught. It is taught by teachers who know of the existence of this hoard of wisdom that is our heritage and who have studied some of it themselves.

The value of human life directly depends on our sense of inheriting noble ideals to which we ourselves must measure up.

America put its hopes for the succession of democratic ideals from generation to generation into its schooling. Its educational institutions, then, represent not the oikos, the nurturing life of families, but the polis, public life. Democracy, as I said, has to be taught. Only the instruction of our young in wisdom and virtue can achieve the remarkable system of government envisioned by our founders.

And the only possible quality control resides not in school systems, not in constant testing, but in the education of teachers.

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Ten Things You Do in College Just Because You Could Never Get Away With it Growing Up -Kate Gapp 1. Drink milk right out of the carton, just because you can. It is just so much easier than getting a cup dirty which you then have to spend laborious amounts of time cleaning. And you can have a little or a lot; drink until satisfied. No one is here to tell you that you can’t. Your roommates may notice, but as long as they have their own milk, what’s it to them? And if you all share milk…well, what they don’t know can’t hurt them.

2. Go outside with your socks on. Not only is this completely impr actical, but it ruins your socks faster than just about anything but taking sandpaper to them. Yep, your mom yelled at you for running around the driveway sockfooted for a reason. Only now, you probably have to buy your own, so the satisfaction isn’t quite the same…but still. No one can tell you not to.

3. Eat ice cream for breakfast. Again, your mom’s instinct to pr ohibit this is appropriate, because having a sugar high first thing in the day is only fun if you’re the one bouncing off the walls. However, this unpractical phenomenon is quite a delicious one. Besides, how much difference is there, really, between ice cream and a latté in morning?

4. Stay up way too late. The next day, you’ll cer tainly be glad you did. But soon you will realize that coffee is not an entirely pleasant substitution for sleep, no matter how delicious or necessary it may be to recover. Shoot, just stay up too late even if you have no good reason to—just in spite of that evil word “curfew” that ruined your social life in middle school (which no doubt would have absolutely thrived otherwise.)

5. Have a sleepover on a weeknight. This is a good idea especially if you live in a dor m (you will realize that the floor of your friend’s apartment with a thin, ragged blanked is actually more comfortable than your own bed.) It’s fun, harmless, and especially worthwhile if you convince yourself it makes sense because you and your friend can be productive and get work done together…because watching three movies back to back is productive, right?

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6. Get fast food in the middle of the night. If your mom is anything like mine, she doesn’t believe in “elevensies,” which is a shame. There is obviously a good reason What-a-burger thinks breakfast begins at 11pm.

7. Put up obnoxious photos on every surface in sight. And while you’r e doing this, don’t forget to smugly say to yourself, “Yep, this is MY house” (even though you probably don’t live in a house or own your place of residence). But it isn’t your parents’ house, and they can’t tell you to “take down those ugly posters right this second, young man/woman.”

8. Say a cuss word for dramatic effect. Not the r eally bad ones, come on now. Just once in a while, throw in the “s”-word when you’re feeling really irritated: “It is soooo… stupid that we have to pay five grand a year to eat yogurt for breakfast! It’s not even Greek!”

9. Wear pajamas for an entire weekend straight. Why bother putting “real clothes” on (whatever than even means) when you have no reason to? If clothes are supposed to help you be productive, all the more reason to leave those dresser drawers closed for the day, because life isn’t all about “productivity.” While you’re at it, don’t bother showering or looking in the mirror either.

10. Don’t clean anything, ever. Mmhmm. We all know how liber ating it is to just star e a mess in the face and do nothing about it. This is fun for about the first month of college, until you realize it’s not actually pleasant to find old pizza crusts in your pillowcase. But a rebellion it certainly is. The best part is, once you finally decide to clean your floor, clothes, sink, bathroom, walls, dishes, counters, and everything you have neglected, IT’S YOUR OWN FREE CHOICE. No grounding involved. The punishment of cleaning is a lot easier to cope with when you realize how nice it is to not repeatedly stub your toes on the heaps of junk covering the floor when you get up for a midnight trip to the bathroom.

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The Christmas Aeneid -John Wilson

As the season of advent and possibly the most anticipated day of the year, Christmas, inch closer each day, families may soon start looking at catalogues in search for this year’s perfect gifts. While the Christmas season represents a time for giving, it can be tempting to give into ones desire to pick up a good deal for oneself. This creates a conflict between the altruistic nature of Christmas and the temptation to give into desire. A very similar conflict of interests burdens Dido and Aeneas. Dido and Aeneas face a decision between giving into a personal passion and working toward goodwill for all of humanity. As they decide between civil duty, and indulging in their personal desires, the final decisions of both Dido and Aeneas are influenced by divine and supernatural forces, their resolve to fulfill their destiny, and their passion to follow their hearts Dido falls maddeningly in love with Aeneas not underneath the mistletoe, nor under the influence of too much eggnog but rather Amor’s curse of lust. Amor, the roman god of love under the orders of Venus, the god of sexual desire, disguised himself, not as jolly old St. Nick, but Aeneas’s son Ascanius.

Dido is “Oblivious of how great a god sat there to her undoing” (Vergil 1 980-981). At this point would Dido have lost control of her own free will? No but, this love violates Dido’s desires and corrupts her priorities. Sychaeus’s passing crossed her mind less frequently letting her feel free to love again. While Dido was still fully in control of her actions, her mind raced with thoughts of her and Aeneas underneath the mistletoe. Dido becomes fully enamored with Aeneas after hearing his story and while she can resist acting on this love, she cannot ignore the burning passion that grows inside her. This parallels to a child that is able to resist the urge to rip open presents under the tree but is never able stop thinking about what could be under the wrapping paper. Because they chose to remain undetected to her Dido does not see the gods as active forces in her life even though they were very involved.

Aeneas had his fair share of scary ghost stories to go along with is tales of the glories of Christmases long long ago. Mercury, the messenger god sent to get Aeneas to Rome by Christmas, scares Aeneas into changing the way he is living. Much like the ghost of Christmas future, Mercury shows Aeneas how much he is going to miss in the future unless he gets his life back on track, and then he vanishes into thin air. This scares Aeneas into a state of urgency where he “Burned only to be gone, to leave that land of the sweet life behind” (Vergil 1 384-385). Was Aeneas’s hand forced in this decision or did he act of his own accord? While Mercury provided the spook that turned Aeneas white as snow and brought him to his senses Aeneas seems motivated not just by fear of the gods but by his resolve to fulfill his destiny. The reader can see a clear shift in Aeneas’s behavior after Mercury’s visit and Aeneas seems to respond hastily. This shows Aeneas is very aware of the presence of the divine in his life and respects the wishes of the gods a good deal more than Dido.

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In order for Aeneas to make the sacrifices necessary to carry out his destiny he needed an iron will. He had to push his feelings completely aside; make choices that contrasted his true desires, and work with every ounce of strength in his body for a reward that he knew he would never see. Time after time, Aeneas must make the decision to take another step toward his destiny. Time after time, he must sacrifice what would make him happy. Time after time, he must deny himself his hearts longing in order that he can carry out a task that does not even benefit him. It is important to understand that Aeneas does still have emotions and desires he just prioritizes his Duty to the founding of Rome before his own feelings. (Vergil 4 456-457) Aeneas pleads “please, no more of these appeals that set us both afire. I sail for Italy not of my own free will” (Vergil 4 497-499). What exactly does Aeneas mean by this though?

Well he is first off trying to convey that he is aware of the reasons it would be better to stay and that hearing them is not making it any easier. The song “Baby it’s Cold Outside” mirrors the way in which Aeneas must deny himself time and time again the temptation of taking the much easier, much more desirable options that Dido proposes. Aeneas keeps telling Dido ‘I really must go.’ and ‘I really can’t stay.’ but Dido begs for him to stay arguing ‘But baby it’s cold outside’ or ’It’s up to your knees out there’ even “What’s the sense in hurtin’ my pride’. (Vergil 4 400-550 emphasis on 422 paraphrased)( Baby, It's Cold Outside by Frank Loesser). When he says that bit about it not being of his own free will he is not implying that he has lost the ability to decide for himself. Rather he is referring to the fact that he is doing this because it is the will of the gods. Because Aeneas sees the will of the gods to trump his own free will in some ways, he really does not have a say in the matter.

Dido’s intense love for Aeneas burns so hot within her heart that she is unable to act rationally.

Instead her decisions are fueled only by the unquenchable passion she has for Aeneas. It seems that Dido once she had given into love is unable to side with reason unless the two forces are pushing for the same action. Dido’s inability to act in a fully rational way ultimately leads to her downfall. Finding it impossible to be merry with the thought of Aeneas leaving Dido realizes without Aeneas her white winter wonderland would warp into a desolate desert of despair. Try after try nothing could convince Aeneas to delay his departure like the airlines during the holidays. Upon realizing that it was over “So broken in mind by suffering, Dido caught her fatal madness and resolved to die” (Vergil 4 656-657). Why couldn’t Dido just move on and carry on with her life after having some hot chocolate and warm gingerbread cookies? Unfortunately, this was not an option for Dido because the process of getting over a relationship involves freeing oneself from the bounds of love. Dido however, is shackled to this eternal love. When Aeneas leaves, he takes away Dido’s ability to give into her passion. No longer able to give into her lust, Dido is left in a perpetual state of despair. Her inability to escape from her sorrow is ultimately the reason Dido decides to end her life.

While Aeneas sailed to Rome for the holidays and Dido roasted on an open pyre, the words blue Christmas without you developed a whole new meaning. The chaos that defined that winter was due to the differing decisions of Dido and Aeneas that were motivated by the gods, the will of the lovers, and the strength of their passions.

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Stars Glimmer On the Ground (Montserrat, Spain) -Johnathon Cunningham Stars glimmer,

Surrounded by beauty, serenity, fading light,

On the ground,

Removed from daily life,

The world is flipped,

The rustle of the trees,

Upside down,

Whispers soft as a fife,

I am in the clouds,

The sun has reached its hyperbolic end,

The earth is below,

Everyday to pray,

Yet stars are not above,

Without Him we have nothing,

Situated so,

In His name we may,

The heavenly sphere above,

We sing His praise as we sojourn,

Reflected in earthly lights,

Like bells that penetrate the air,

In His image He created,

To life return,

He has called man to great heights,

Good news we share, For Him our hearts yearn, Us from death He will spare.

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Some Good Ol-Fashioned Carols for your Caroling purposes (Rip out for your next Christmas cheer adventure) Good King Wenceslas Good King Wenceslas looked out On the feast of Stephen When the snow lay round about Deep and crisp and even Brightly shone the moon that night Though the frost was cruel When a poor man came in sight Gath'ring winter fuel

When we bear him thither."

Page and monarch forth they went Forth they went together Through the rude wind's wild lament And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker now And the wind blows stronger Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer."

"Mark my footsteps, my good page "Hither, page, and stand by me Tread thou in them boldly If thou know'st it, telling Thou shalt find the winter's Yonder peasant, who is he? rage Where and what his dwelling?" Freeze thy blood less coldly."

"Sire, he lives a good league hence In his master's steps he trod Underneath the mountain Where the snow lay dinted Right against the forest fence Heat was in the very sod

By Saint Agnes' fountain."

Which the Saint had printed Therefore, Christian men, be "Bring me flesh and bring me sure wine Wealth or rank possessing Bring me pine logs hither Ye who now will bless the poor Thou and I will see him dine Shall yourselves find blessing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (UD Version) Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Had a very shiny nose (like the tower) And if you ever saw it You would even say it glows (like All of the other reindeer Used to laugh and call him names (like They never let poor Rudolph Join in any reindeer games (like rugby) Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say, Rudolph with your nose so bright, Won't you guide my sleigh tonight Then how all the reindeer loved him, As they shouted out with glee, Rudolph the red-nose Reindeer You'll go down in history (like Henry Adams!)

Deck the Halls Deck the halls with boughs of holly, Fa la la la la la la la!

'Tis the season to be jolly, Fa la la la la la la la!

Don we now our gay apparel, Fa la la la la la la la!

Troll the ancient Yuletide carol, Fa la la la la la la la!

See the blazing yule before us, Fa la la la la la la la!

Strike the harp and join the chorus, Fa la la la la la la la!

Follow me in merry measure, Fa la la la la la la la!

While I tell of Yuletide treasure, Fa la la la la la la la!

Fast away the old year passes, Fa la la la la la la la!

Hail the new, ye lads and lasses, Fa la la la la la la la!

Sing we joyous all together! Fa la la la la la la la!

Heedless of the wind and weather, Fa la la la la la la la!

Hark the herald angels sing Hark the herald angels sing "Glory to the newborn King!

Peace on earth and mercy mild God and sinners reconciled" Joyful, all ye nations rise Join the triumph of the skies With the angelic host proclaim: "Christ is born in Bethlehem" Hark! The herald angels sing "Glory to the newborn King!"

Christ by highest heav'n adored Christ the everlasting Lord!

Late in time behold Him come Offspring of a Virgin's womb Veiled in flesh the Godhead see Hail the incarnate Deity Pleased as man with man to dwell Jesus, our Emmanuel Hark! The herald angels sing "Glory to the newborn King!"

Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace!

Hail the Son of Righteousness!

Light and life to all He brings Ris'n with healing in His wings Mild He lays His glory by Born that man no more may die Born to raise the sons of earth Born to give them second birth Hark! The herald angels sing "Glory to the newborn King!"

13 Little Drummer Boy

What Child is This?

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum, When we come.

Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum, On my drum?

Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum Me and my drum.

Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer R: Grandma got run over by a reindeer Walking home from our house Christmas eve You can say there's no such thing as Santa But as for me and Grandpa, we believe She'd been drinkin' too much egg nog And we'd begged her not to go But she'd left her medication So she stumbled out the door into the snow

Now were all so proud of Grandpa He's been takin' this so well See him in there watchin' football Drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle It's not Christmas without Grandma All the family's dressed in black And we just can't help but wonder Should we open up her gifts or send them back?

Now the goose is on the table And the pudding made of pig And a blue and silver candle That would just have matched When they found her Christmas the hair in Grandma's wig mornin' I've warned all my friends and At the scene of the attack neighbors There were hoof prints on her Better watch out for yourselves forehead They should never give a license And incriminatin' Claus marks To a man who drives a sleigh on her back and plays with elves

What child is this, who, laid to rest, On Mary's lap is sleeping?

Whom angels greet with anthems sweet, While shepherds watch are keeping?

This, this is Christ the King, Whom shepherds guard and angels sing: Haste, haste to bring Him laud, The babe, the son of Mary.

Why lies He in such mean estate, Where ox and donkeys are feeding?

Good Christians, fear, for sinners here The silent Word is pleading.

Nails, spears shall pierce him through, the cross he bore for me, for you.

Hail, hail the Word made flesh, the Babe, the Son of Mary.

So bring him incense, gold, and myrrh, Come, peasant, king, to own him.

The King of kings salvation brings, Let loving hearts enthrone him.

Raise, raise a song on high, The virgin sings her lullaby Joy, joy for Christ is born, The babe, the Son of Mary.

This, this is Christ the King, Whom shepherds guard and angels sing: Haste, haste to bring Him laud, The babe, the son of Mary.

Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas Have a holly, jolly Christmas; It's the best time of the year I don't know if there'll be snow but have a cup of cheer Have a holly, jolly Christmas; And when you walk down the street Say Hello to friends you know and everyone you meet Oh ho the mistletoe hung where you can see; Somebody waits for you; Kiss her once for me Have a holly jolly Christmas and in case you didn't hear Oh by golly have a holly jolly Christmas this year

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Our Spiritual Heartbeat -Charlie Archer “For the ancients, the problem was death, because everything was alive. For the moderns, the problem is life, because everything is made of dead stuff.” -Dr. Wood Much of Ancient Philosophy centers around the idea of spiritus for soul. Spiritus, when translated into English, means either soul, spirit, or breath, depending on the context of its use. However, realizing that this distinction was not even linguistically possible in antiquity when referring to the fact of ‘living’ lights up a major difference between modern and ancient philosophy. Spiritus refers to all three realities at once, and gives a much more holistic vision of the process of living than the modern distinctions between biological life (breathing), spiritual life (soul), and the union of the two (spirit). Spiritus views the person as a gestalt, a unified whole, rather than a composite. This vision of life reveals more about the united nature of the heart.

While studying for my midterm for Senior Thesis, I was struck by the polarization of the diagram of Steven Strasser’s vision of the heart. (Steven Strasser is a 20th century German Philosopher). In a Cartesian turn, the heart was stretched across a piece of paper into its component parts and then rebuilt in a rationally ordered way. I do not question the veracity of the diagram (that would be another topic altogether from what I am reflecting on), rather, I question the method underpinning the exploration of the heart. Do we risk misunderstanding the unity of the heart when we schematize it?

Strasser's phenomenology seems to lack what Christianity views as the highest function of the heart, the giving of the heart. For Christians, the ability to “give one’s heart” is essential to their sanctification. St. Terese defined prayer as “lifting one’s heart to God.” When he begins with phenomenology, Strasser focuses on the feeling of ‘happiness’ that pervades the person when this giving takes place, rather than seeking to understand the nature of the ‘gift of the heart’.

The Ancients rarely, if ever, rationally explored the heart. Perhaps this is because it was an assumption that did not require explanation, in a similar way to their assumption of spiritus as meaning spirit, soul, and breathing.

The heart was a given reality that they operated from, rather than a reality that they operated towards. The heart factors into their philosophy, but always in relation to distinct types of philosophical exploration. In Aristotle’s ethics, it grounds the feeling of pleasure that accompanies virtuous action. The heart drives Plato’s ontology as the thumos that inspires the person’s desire for the Forms. I am sure there are more levels, but these are the two that come immediately to mind. Strasser, on the other hand, examines the heart explicitly in isolation from metaphysics or ethics. This harkens with the modern turn to minute examination of the given, and in this case the given is the phenomena of feeling and affectivity. This sets the question: Can the unity of the heart, as the locus of relationships, be understood in isolation from a metaphysic? Blessed John Henry Newman’s motto was “Cor ad cor loquitor. The heart speaks to the heart.” How can we expand our understanding of the heart beyond the center of emotional feelings?

I do not claim that Strasser is methodologically wrong, but the method he purports will fail to realize the ontological unity of the physical and spiritual heart as it focuses on the phenomenological differences. The Ancient’s conception of spiritus highlights the unity of the spiritual and physical realities, which is essential to understanding the ontology of the heart.

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Humility and reverence, or lack thereof, underpin man’s relationships to every being outside of himself.

One might think of reverence as one’s lungs expanding with air as one internalizes the value of an external good, while humility occurs when one exhales and realizes one’s dependence on the external good for meaning. Often, when people become stressed they breathe more shallowly, never fully exhaling their breath. In a sense, this shallow breathing mirrors the spiritual reality of an un-humble person. The person is never willing to empty themselves of the stale air of the good they have acquired in order to be renewed by the fresh air being offered in the present. One must fully exhale, one must deprive oneself of the remnants of past-goods, in order to realize the good that already peeks into one’s mouth.

Further, this deprivation creates a voluntary vulnerability as one has nothing of merit within one’s direct control, but must trust the advent of the new good. Try exhaling fully, there is a sense (at least for me) of vulnerability that accompanies the moment of having no air in my lungs. Of course, one easily assumes that the air 3 will not disappear and so can exhale without too much angst. Nevertheless, the barely perceptible physical feeling that accompanies the process of breathing points to the vulnerability that accompanies the disposition of humility, which is the condition for breathing in the goodness of the other, in order to recognize its excellence and instill the sense of reverence.

This analogy conveniently extends still further in applying the ancient notion of spiritus to the ‘air’ that one breathes in and out. For the Christian, the spiritus that one breathes in is the good of the Holy Spirit. Once the merit of the gift of the Holy Spirit is gone, the person should not cling to the memory or dwell on the past good, but rather must empty themselves of their own spirit in humility to again be filled with the Holy Spirit. The analogical lungs might be seen as the access point through which the grace of the Spirit enters the heart. By a single pumping action, the heart infuses the entire person with the blood oxidized by the grace of the Spirit.

The pump takes on a sacramental meaning as the physical signification of giving one’s entire self. Just as the physical heart pumps lifeblood throughout the body and pushes that same blood to be nourished by the air that one breathes in one’s lungs, so to the heart, in its spiritual function, both nourishes the totality of one’s soul as well as contacting the Spiritus of the Holy Spirit as the nourishment for the spiritual life. In this sense, the heart is liquid in mediating between the self and the transcendent. By the same movement, the heart pumps life throughout the person and enriches this life with the Spiritus.

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Christmas in the Golden Time -Sir Walter Scott, Sir Aaron Kim, and Olivia Close Heap on more wood! — Old Mill is chill; And let it shudder, as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.

Would be grads deem the newborn year The fittest time for drunken cheer.

And well our UD friends of old.

Loved when the year’s course had rolled, And brought blithe Christmas back again, With his scapular as train.

Jubilant and God-given rite Give honour to the holy night: On Christmas eve our bells were rung; On Christmas eve every Cistercian sung; This holy night each and every year, Sees the stoled priest the chalice rear.

East side girls don their endless kirtles sheen; Hagar dressed with holly green; Forth to PDK woods did men go, To gather in the mistletoe, Then opened wide the Raj-majal To vassal, tenant, serf, and all; Keefe laid his sword of rule aside, And ceremony doff’d his pride, With Bridget, roses in her leash.

Those about to read this great pastiche.

Freshmen, sophomore, junior, and senior share In the game of “Cards Against Humanity!”

All hailed with uncontroll’d delight And general voice, the happy night The Condos, as the Bourgeoisie Bring tidings of Shiner happily.

The fire with well dried logs supplied, Goes roaring up the chimney (not so) wide;

Beside the pool the iron table’s face, Fill’d till it groans, on the day of grace.

All the beer the tenants hoard No mark to part the squire and lord.

Then was brought in the lusty brawn, from the nautilus, by the libation fawn, The draughts that always take us higher, From our one and only loyal provider.

Around the fire old millers quaking tell, How, when, and where, the small children fell; Throughout the streets of mill they tore, Rushing about like a wild boar.

In Hagar wassail in good brown bowls, Pour down the drain of their mouth holes. There the huge grill top reeked: hard by Juan the favorite sandwich guy, and Christmas pie; Failed old Aramark to produce At such high tide a savoury goose.

Then came the merry masquers in, And carols roar’d with blithesome din; If unmelodious was the song, It was a hearty note, and strong.

Looking on their mumming one might see, Traces of a little Groundhog mystery; Thrift shop sweaters supplied the masquerade, And with tasteful steins happy toasts were made But oh! What schools, more rich in their plight, Can boast of bosoms half so light!

Dirty Irv is merry Irv when Old Christmas brings his booze again. ’Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale, Twas Christmas inspired this merriest tale; A Christmas gambol oft will cheer A student’s heart through half the year.

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A Christmas Wish - Inspired by a true story -Aspen Daniels The young woman nervously smoothed the creases of a worn photograph in her lap. Bright dark eyes seemed to stare up into hers, lit up by a six-year-old’s dimpled grin. Huddled in the back of the little bamboo chapel, she closed her fingers over the photo, shutting her eyes for one long moment before reaching for the phone that would send her wish to a radio station on the other side of the world.

When she and her husband had joined staff at the mission the month before, he gave up his budding tech developer career; she her place at the espresso machine behind the familiar Starbucks counter. As they had stepped off the plane, the contrast to their snowy Chicagoan streets was breathtaking. Rather than the tasteful Christmas decorations and clean, icy sidewalks, they were met by muggy heat; the overwhelming odors of cigarette smoke, excrement, and a thousand different spices; and cries of rickshaw drivers crowding up against the airport barriers. They knew that this Christmas would be unlike any they had ever experienced, and in that moment, it hadn’t mattered that they had left everything behind. It seemed like their wishes were coming true.

But something was missing. They had left a little girl behind; sacrificed her with everything else they loved. After all, she was nothing more than a wish. They had just filed the first adoption paperwork when the mission contacted them. Their call was obvious. And with their salaries gone, how could they afford to adopt her? The young woman sighed as she hid the photo back under the folds of her Indian dress.

At the same time, half-way across the world, two small girls in cheerleading skirts were dragging their parents across an icy Chick-Fil-A parking lot. Little nut-brown hands made big white ones seem pale in comparison. “But what if there isn’t an adoptive family to help?” They demanded for the tenth time that night. They had been waiting for this night for weeks now, scraping dollars together to add to their father’s fat billfold.

They had been on a mission ever since the radio host came through their school with his flyers. “People will make wishes for all kinds of things,” he had cautioned. But the girls knew they were meant to make the wish of another adoptive family come true. persuading, either.

“To help another kid just like us!” They repeated. Their parents hadn’t needed any

But as seconds ticked into minutes, the radio host in the black suit rattled out nothing but interminable Santa Claus lists into the microphone. The two girls finished their milkshakes and impatiently kicked pink sneakers against their bar stools.

They shot worried glances at their parents. Their mother reached over to squeeze their hands, but their father avoided their eyes. His fingernails drummed a nervous tattoo on the wooden table.

Half-way across the world, the young woman still waited in the chapel, hiding with her husband from over-enthusiastic holiday wishes from too many strangers. She kept her eyes on the dirt floor, turning the photo hidden under her dress over and over again between her fingers. “Missing home?” He pulled her gently against him. “Maybe we should call your parents soon.”

“That’s not it.” Slowly she held out the photograph.

He winced as if she had struck him. “I didn’t know you still had that.”

“I thought I could at least pray for her...”

“Mindie, we let her go. Remember?”

“I know.” The young woman pushed the photo away from her. Eager Indian voices were calling their names from outside.

“Let’s just wait here a minute or two more,” she whispered. They couldn’t have known that, at that moment, the radio host in the black suit was announcing their names as he read the last wish on his list. The two small girls started and jumped down from their stools as their father hurried toward the front with an irrepressible smile. He grabbed the radio host’s hand. “Merry Christmas!”

It was Christmas day. And in a bamboo chapel half-way across the world, the cell phone was ringing.

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