By ERNEST CONINE
THE
KREMLIN
CANT
KILL CHRISTMAS
FOR MORE THAN 45 years, the Krem
lin's propaganda machine has ham
mered away at the theme that Christmas
is a fraud.
Yet one day next week hundreds of Soviet
children will troop into the Great Kremlin Palace,
the very citadel of Red atheism. There they will
stare wide-eyed at a towering fir tree festooned
-with lights and bright baubles, and accept gifts
from Grandfather Frost a benign old gentle
man who looks suspiciously like Santa Claus.
To be sure, the word "Christmas" will never
be uttered, certainly not by the Kremlin sponsors.
The gathering is calculated to instill in the
children a devotion not to God but to the state.
Undoubtedly, the regime succeeds at least
partially in this aim. But as a news correspondent
who lived two years in Moscow, I can testify that
the occasion also stands as a monument to the
Kremlin's failure to erase Christmas from the
hearts of the Soviet people.
Shortly after my arrival in Moscow, I stood
shivering one day on Gorky Street, one of the
capital's major thoroughfares. While waiting for
a taxi, I pondered the sadness of the holiday sea
son in Russia. It was Christmas morning, and I
thought of the Nativity scenes in the store win
dows back home in America, the streets overhung
with holly, the soft peal of church bells.
In Moscow, it appeared to be just another
70
In "godless" Russia, Grandfather Frost hands out
gifts under a New Year's tree, hut the meaning
of the Nativity survives in the hearts of the people
workday. Just one touch of color showed in the
great, drab street a huge red banner urging:
"Onward to the Victory of Communism."
Anyone who lives in the U.S.S.R. learns, how
ever, that beneath the dreary surface the Spirit
of Bethlehem survives after all the years of
propaganda, pressure, and persecution. -
Small gifts, even crude Christmas cards, are
exchanged among friends. And when I visited
the home of one Russian during the holidays, I
was surprised to see a Christmas tree; I knew
they were unobtainable in the markets. "I cut it
myself in the forests near Moscow," he explained.
"Many of our people do so."
But more worrisome to the Kremlin is the fact
that millions of professed atheists who never go
to church any other time even Communist Party
members attend the special Christmas services
which are held on the evening of Dec. 24 in
Roman Catholic and Lutheran churches and on
Jan. 7 in the Russian Orthodox churches.
Take the case of Vasily, a Soviet journalist
who once told me mockingly that: "Our cos-,
monauts found no God in space." One Christmas
Eve I visited Moscow's St. Louis Cathedral,
where attendance usually is light for normal ser
vices. But on this occasion, I could barely crowd
in. As I surveyed the faces, I was struck by the
number of young people there including Vasily,
who stood silent with his head bowed.
Although gulled by the persistence of the
Christian faith, Khrushchev and company cannot
afford to return to the harsh persecutions of the
Stalin era; the resulting discontent might dan
gerously impair industrial production.
The regime's current tactic is a flank attack.
A clever campaign is under way to take Christ
out of Christmas to preserve the festive trap
pings while removing the religious content and
turning the holiday to Communist purposes.
Christmas is not forbidden; it is simply ig
nored. But on New Year's Day, celebrations
are held in workers' clubs and Young Pioneer
Palaces all over Russia. The traditional Christ
mas tree is there, with all the trimmings. But it
is called a New Year's tree, and the accent is on
the "glorious victories" to be won by communism.
The children's party at the Kremlin is the most
glittering of all, with admittance reserved for
those who have especially distinguished them
selves in Young Pioneer work for the Soviet
state. Grandfather Frost, a rotund, white
bearded fellow with a sparkling suit, plays the
traditional role of Saint Nicholas.
The authorities go all out to make the celebra
tion a truly happy and memorable one. They hope
the youngsters will grow up identifying this oc
casion with the Party, not the church.
At home, most Russian families now have a
tiny tree of their own. Again, it is called a New
Year's tree, at least in the presence of foreigners.
But it is significant that the tree usually stays in
place until Jan. 8, the day after the Russian
Orthodox Christmas even in the homes of my
"godless" Soviet acquaintances.
COVER:
This family scene, which will unfold in
homes across the land on Christmas morn,
was photographed by Shelly Grossman
to introduce this special holiday issue.
Weekly
ily 7
27.
LEONARD S. OAVIDOW Pmidrat mnd FMMitr
WAITER C. DREYFUS Vict Vmiinl
PATRICK f. O'ROURKi .Idi'rrluing Pirerlor
MORTON FRANK Director 0 PublMrr nViaftoiu
Srnd all odvortiilng communication to Family Wookly,
m N. Michigan Ave. Chicago I. III.
Addrru all communication! about oditoriol footurtl to
Family Wnhly. 60 I. 36th St.. N.w York 2, N. Y.
TSSSSSSSSSSk
Dectmbrr 23. mi
toofd of Edilotl I ERNEST V. HEYN Editor in-Chir
EN KARTMAN Etmtif Editor
ROBERT FITZOISION Managing Editor
PHILLIP OYKSTRA AH Dirrrlor
MELANIi DE PROFT Food Editor
Rotolyn Abnivaya, Ardon Cldoll, Hal landon,
Jock Ryon; Poor J. Opponholmw, Hollywood.
I HI FAMILY WEEKLY MAGAZINE, INC., 153 N. Michigan Art., Chicago I. III. All tight, tmrvod.