The true spirit of Christmas

The Great War had raged for almost five months, savagely consuming the lives of nearly one million young men. But on Christmas Eve 1914, the guns fell silent.

Across the stillness of no man’s land, the soft soothing melody of Stille Nacht (Silent Night) drifted across from the German trenches. The British joined them in harmony, filling the cold still winter’s air with a calm and loving melody.

As day broke, men slowly emerged from their trenches, leaving behind their rifles. Cautiously, they approached one another from opposite sides, unsure how the other would react. Greeting each other warmly, they broke the ice and exchanged what few possessions they had: tobacco, chocolate, schnapps and tea.

Two men greeted each other in this way on that day.

“My name is Jim”, said one.

“Mein Name ist Otto”, said the other.

Jim showed Otto the picture of his girlfriend Rose.

“Beautiful”, Otto replied.

Later that evening when they’re both back in their trenches, Jim finds a piece of gingerbread in his pocket from Otto. Otto in turn discovers a bar of milk chocolate in his own.

It makes you think. Even in the toughest times, in the heart of war and the most dreadful of occasions, great and beautiful acts of humanity seem possible. Despite the horrendous scale and destruction that awful war brought, some very brave young men showed the world that day that there could be hope.

This scene was brought to life in an advert aired by British supermarket Sainsbury’s in 2014. The message cut deep in Britain. This particular war evokes very strong emotions among the British, even a century later. The seismic change it caused in British society is difficult to ignore. However, it was the symbol of peace and love between two men that I found so striking.

I thought about this video on the S2 train to Zurich on my way to work. I glanced around at my fellow passengers. They seemed self-absorbed in their lives, staring at their iPhones and reading their newspapers. Not one looked up, recognised each other or even conversed with one another. It felt deeply unnatural – almost inhuman. I have to admit, I have done the same on many occasions. I'm guilty too of doing this.

It's Advent. The Christmas market is buzzing, lights sparkle from one end of the high street to the other and all around the city, beautiful Christmas trees glisten in the morning twilight.

I thought long and hard about what the spirit of Christmas meant to me that day.

I remembered a story about a schoolboy. He couldn’t have been more than 13 years old.

He was walking home from school one day when he saw another boy crouched down in the middle of the street crying. He was surrounded by a group of boys who appeared to be taunting him. They had emptied the content of his school bag onto the cold snow-covered ground and there were books everywhere.

He ran over and told the group of boys to leave him alone. They laughed, dismissed him and walked away.

He smiled at the boy, helped him to his feet and picked up his books, dusting of the snow. He couldn’t understand why he had so many books, but the boy seemed grateful.

They started talking. It turned out that this boy went to school on the other side of town. They chatted about trivial things, like what they wanted for Christmas and which football team they supported.

Months passed. Spring came and then Summer. And, when the new school year started in the Autumn, the boy suddenly turned up at his school. He had transferred over and they were now in the same class.

They became best friends, right up to the last day of school together. There was an assembly and his friend won an award. He had achieved the highest exam results in the school and was going to Cambridge to study mathematics.

The boy, now a young man, gave a speech. He thanked his parents, his teachers and his classmates. But most of all, he thanked his best friend and told everyone, why he moved school.

It turned out that he was being bullied so badly at his old school that he decided to take his own life and commit suicide. He went to school to empty his locker because he didn’t want his parents to go through the humiliation of emptying it after he had died.

It was the smile his best friend gave him and the helping hand that fateful day that gave him just enough hope and courage to carry on. He decided that evening, not to kill himself.

Sometimes when you look at the world around you, it can feel frustrating. People seem to place a monetary value on every second spent doing the seemingly unnecessary for others.

I once heard about a blind man who had lived in darkness all his life. One day he prayed to have his sight, so the next day when he woke up, he found he could see. He was fascinated by the beauty of the visible world and found the light and its brightness stunning.

One day, walking down a busy street he spotted a poor beggar. Not one person stopped to give him money and walked past him like he didn't exist. The blind man asked, "how can people be so blind?"

So he prayed that evening for his blindness to return and sure enough the next day his wish was granted. But, he never lived in darkness again.

I guess you can find the true spirit of Christmas if you look. I remember once a local imam in the City of Bath where I studied, once told me that a simple smile can be the greatest act of charity.

Despite the evident materialism that Christmas annoyingly brings, it can also be a time to pause and reflect if you want too. I've discovered this year that we can also live in a world that can be selfless, kind and filled with small and beautiful acts of giving.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.