The Monday Book: A TALE OF TWO VALLEYS by Alan Deutschman

I picked this book up in a thrift store because I needed a plane book. It was the best of a bunch that didn’t seem all that appealing. Contextually, it was at a disadvantage from the start.

But it was really interesting! I’m not a wine connoisseur, just a cheerful consumer. But this book was more an examination of the effects of capitalism and gentrification than a wine book. In its opening, the author basically admits to wanting to write about Sonoma/Napa Valley so he could live there rent-free in a rich person’s house, with servants.

One region is full of hippies, the other full of yuppies. It’s a charming story about how they vote to protect themselves from each other, acknowledge mutual concerns, yet pretty much all want “the good life” as they choose to define it. The gap between definitions gets bigger as the book progresses.

The “chicken fight” is a great example: the hippie area has chickens running loose, but visitors find that their children chasing the chickens results in the chickens chasing them. This results in several nasty letters to the editor in the newspaper, and ultimately legislation that gives rebels waiting for a cause celeb their big chance. The chickens still roam free, if you’re interested.

By and large this book, published in 2003, is an ageless tale, inserting wine as a metaphor for how the more things change, the more they stay the same. I enjoyed the book because of its tie-up between economics and human nature–something my economist friends say is redundant, since economics IS human nature with a little money thrown on top. This book is full of eccentrics and egomaniacs and opulent display and lifestyles so different they wrap around on opposite ends of the continuum. And it kept me diverted enough on a four-hour plane ride to find myself surprised at landing in Charlotte rather than Napa. Highly recommended.

The Christmas Hit Parade

So like most people, my favorite Christmas carol is Little Drummer Boy. (Go ahead, ask your friends; it’s usually a tie between that and O Come All Ye Faithful, with a small but steadfast minority holding out for Joy to the World.)

I’ve become a big fan of Lindsey Stirling’s Little Drummer Boy but I love Bob Seger’s sweet rock version now and for all time.

You can also reduce me to rubble by getting a boy’s choir to sing Once in Royal David’s City. They hit that line “Jesus is our childhood pattern” and people in the next pew hand me tissues.

Still, we all have carols that aren’t our favorites but have lines or verses that stick out to us, y’know?

We Three Kings isn’t my favorite carol. In fact, as a child, its somber tone and minor chords used to scare me, along with In the Bleak Midwinter. I remember shrinking behind my mother in a church pew until she hauled me out from behind her with a “what on earth” look. The one just before you get taken out to the bathroom and corrected, so I quit. But those songs were just outright creepy as a kid.

Now, my favorite verse from a carol overall is in Kings. It might be verse three depending on your source, and it says Glorious now behold him arise, King and God and Sacrifice.

As children we have no idea how our lives are going to shape and form, but now as a trained folklorist I recognize in this line the echoes of Christianity co-opting and overcoming some very old gods with a small g. The Celtic bog bodies, the Easter deity sacrifices, all the echoes that Ecclesiastes 3:11 told us were there. (That’s the verse that says God put eternity in our hearts so someday like would call to like, in a paraphrased version.)

Christians can get really pissy about how symbolism is borrowed from pre-Christian belief, as if this were a bad thing, and pagans can get right pissy back about the moral high ground tone on the co-opting. But I admit this back-and-forth of old, new, and repurposed has always been one of the things I love about studying Christian theology: the power of the sacrifice the strength of the removal of sacrifices, the whole FULFILLMENT of a system, not its dismantling. The legend that when Jesus was born a yew tree cracked and a voice yelled down from the mountain, “The Great God Pan is dead” gave me chills. (He died in a battle; you can look up what GK Chesterton wrote about this if you’re interested.)

The joy of renewals, celebrating seasons, seeing patterns, enjoying the turning circle that turns through eternity: we were supposed to be eternally enjoying these things, and when that got messed up, a very ugly fulfillment was set in place to put us back in the circle. Christian Easter is a terrible, bloody holiday with a highly significant and glorious plot twist.

I think that is the coolest thing ever. Not many pagans and Christians want to dance together at Solstice, at Christmas, when the Day Star turns in our hearts as it does in the sky (that’s 2 Peter 1:19 plus a whole lot of pagan poetry) and the days get longer and we know resurrection takes many forms. Glorious now behold him arise, king and God and sacrifice, hallelujah, hallelujah, worship him God most high.

What’s your favorite carol this time of year?