There another time with its comes the Christmas luzinhas coriscantes; empobrecidos and frightful papas-nois; run-he runs, lufa-lufa. It is time of the abominable little parties of friend-occult; of the cards – all the cards, mainly of credit, and of the politicians; of proliferation of commercial messages of all type and abusive; to make many debts; of promises; of it estresse, anxiety and depression; of snow of isopor, plastic trees, beards of cotton; of useless gifts, inopportune and undesirable; of indigestas and onerous suppers, satiated tables and sparing tables; of new clothes and vestments routes; of tipsy smiles and causticantes tears of sadnesses without end. There another time, overwhelming comes the Christmas of ours vintns; bistoury of our pains, bell crank of our homesicknesses and the escancaramento of our hearts dilacerados for irreparable losses and exponencializadas, in these times. Happy Christmas! Catalpticos, we desire to the affection and to the disaffections, to the unknown known ones and. Order, donations, almses; we are all bonzinhos and natalinamente fraternos, in this time also marked for the perplexity, antagonism and paradox. The night of Christmas is a symbolic and ritualstica rememorao of the birth of a boy who, coarsely, teima in appearing here and there, unprovided of all and any material comfort. One just-been born naked one in the straw of the manger, warm for aconchego of its parents and the proximity of the animals; to the light of the stars anchored for the one of Belm.
The boy in the manger is simplicity, confidence, determination. Already he is premessenger of a new time. To face this world he needed only Maria and Jose, who, with its steps and vigils, had sheltered to it from the relento in one improvised hut. We very do not need to be smart to imagine that our skill to commemorate the anniversary of the boy it is not of the affability.