The lighting of the Christmas tree

In Short

This one-act play dramatizes the emotional transformation of a household on Christmas Eve. When an impoverished, alcoholic flute-player named Ruster arrives seeking shelter, the mistress of the house, Olga, initially turns him away to preserve the sanctity of her family celebration. Her decision ripples through the household, bringing discord and gloom. Through the quiet wisdom of her children and the stark reality of her husband’s sorrow, Olga realizes that true hospitality is not about comfort, but sacrifice. It is a timeless, tender study of redemption and the true meaning of the Christmas miracle.

The Story

At the manor of Lofdala, Olga prepares for Christmas with her husband, Liljekrona, a musician, and their two young sons, Oswald and Sigurd. The air is filled with holiday anticipation until Ruster, a disheveled and drunk former musician, appears. Olga, fearing his influence and wishing for a peaceful, exclusive family celebration, maneuvers to have him sent away. Liljekrona, though reluctant to turn out an old friend, eventually yields to his wife’s wishes. Ruster, wounded by the rejection but hiding behind a mask of pride, departs into the snow.

Almost immediately, the atmosphere at Lofdala shifts. The festive preparations fall apart: the children’s cookie-dough figures are misshapen, the violin string snaps, and the joy of the household evaporates. Liljekrona, feeling the weight of their collective selfishness, withdraws to his room. Through the wall, his music erupts—not in celebration, but in a wild, mournful protest against the heartlessness of his own home. Olga hears this music and recognizes her error. She realizes that in her attempt to secure happiness, she has betrayed the very spirit of Christmas.

As the storm rages, the family waits in a silence heavy with regret. The sound of sleighbells finally breaks the tension. Torstein, the servant, returns with a nearly frozen Ruster, explaining that no one else would take him in. Olga’s reaction is an immediate, joyful surrender to her better nature. She welcomes Ruster back not as a burden, but as a guest.

To bridge the gap between them, Olga asks Ruster to watch the children while she prepares dinner. The old, battered man initially recoils, afraid of the children’s innocence, but he is gradually drawn in by their natural curiosity. He shows them his flute, and they show him their picture books. In this quiet moment of connection, Ruster is faced with the contrast between his own desolation and the children’s simple trust. Olga proposes that Ruster remain at Lofdala to act as a tutor for the boys. Ruster is overcome with emotion at being granted a purpose, and Liljekrona, witnessing the reconciliation, silently asks for his wife’s forgiveness. The play concludes with a final tableau: the entire household, including the servants, gathered around the Christmas tree, which is finally lit in a spirit of true harmony and inclusion.

How It Unfolds

The gate is closed Olga prioritizes the perfection of her family’s Christmas, viewing the arrival of the aging, alcoholic Ruster as a threat to their peace. Despite the protests of her husband, she successfully orchestrates the man's departure into the winter cold.

The joy departs Once Ruster leaves, a strange, creeping unhappiness settles over the manor house. The children fail at their tasks, the music stops, and the house feels suddenly empty and cold.

The accusation of the music Liljekrona’s violin playing, heard from behind a closed door, acts as a sharp, musical indictment of the couple's lack of charity. Olga finally understands that they have chosen comfort over the Christian duty of hospitality.

The return of the traveler The return of Ruster, driven back by the cold and the cruelty of the outside world, provides Olga with a second chance. She rejects her former selfishness and fully embraces the old man.

The miracle of the hearth The play finds its resolution in the simple interaction between the broken man and the two young boys. By trusting Ruster with her children, Olga saves him from his own despair.

The People

Olga is the emotional center of the play. She begins as a protective, slightly narrow-minded mother focused on creating a beautiful domestic sanctuary. Her transformation is total; she learns to value grace over order and risk over safety. Liljekrona, her husband, is a man torn between the refined life of his home and the restless, artistic spirit of his wandering past. He provides the moral compass, forcing his wife to confront the cruelty of their actions. Ruster is the catalyst for the drama—a man whose pride masks his deep, hollow loneliness. He represents the "little Christ-Child" wandering the earth, testing the hearts of those who claim to celebrate Him. Finally, Oswald and Sigurd are the innocent agents of change. Their complete lack of judgment allows Ruster to drop his defenses, proving that the simplest hearts are often the most capable of welcoming the lost.

In Its Own Voice

Describing the moral failure that occurs when the family forgets to care for those in need, Liljekrona observes:

“When they pass so close as to touch our sleeve,--we do not see them, we do not stop them, but let them plod their path alone.”

After the mood in the house has turned sour and the family struggles with the consequences of their coldness, Liljekrona delivers this harsh assessment to Olga:

“Your candles are too late. The door is closed. The voice is gone.”

Reflecting on her decision to invite the outcast to care for her sons, Olga explains the heart of her change:

“If it had not been Christmas, perhaps I should not have ventured; but if our Lord dared to place His own son among us sinners, surely we can dare to let our children try to save a human soul.”

What It's Really About

The play is a meditation on the hypocrisy of rituals. It argues that the external trappings of Christmas—the candles, the cookies, and the music—are meaningless if the heart behind them is closed to the needy. It raises the question of whether a "perfect" home is actually a prison if it excludes the suffering of the world outside. The play posits that true holiness is found not in avoiding the broken, but in trusting them. It is an argument for the "miracle" of human connection, suggesting that we are all, in some way, wandering like Ruster, and that we are all, in some way, keepers of the door like Olga.

Why Read It Today

This play is a deeply moving experience for anyone who has ever felt the weight of holiday expectations. It captures that specific, familiar anxiety of trying to make everything "just right," only to realize that the effort itself has crowded out the spirit of the season. The writing is incredibly precise, with a sparse, Swedish-inflected style that strips away all modern sentimentality.

Readers should be prepared for the play’s period tone. Its structure is distinctly theatrical, reflecting its origins in early 20th-century collegiate drama workshops. While some might find the dialogue’s moral directness surprising, it is precisely this lack of modern irony that gives the story its quiet, enduring power. You will likely walk away from it thinking about your own "door"—and who might be waiting on the other side of it. For those who find contemporary Christmas stories too slick or commercial, this short work offers a bracing, honest, and ultimately beautiful alternative. It is a brief, intense, and deeply rewarding read that lingers in the mind long after the final curtain falls.