I like to wrap presents festively, string lights on my house, find just the right Christmas cards, mull cider and carol. Perhaps above all, I like to find the perfect Christmas tree and bring it home to its place of honor in front of the French doors.
But when I brought my Christmas tree home this year, I felt anything but merry. The tree, you see, looked like a victim of osteoporosis. I didn’t notice it until too late, but the trunk was bent so much that it was almost impossible to stabilize the tree in the stand. And when I stepped back, I realized this tree would have been the perfect tree only for the crooked man who lived in a crooked house — you know, the guy of nursery rhyme fame.
I felt an Advent angst overwhelm my seasonal spirit. I didn’t bother putting on Christmas music. I had no energy to drag out all the boxes of ornaments and lights, garland and tinsel and crèche. I decided, instead, to brood.
Maybe my mood stemmed from my trip to the mall — the place where my attempt at simplicity gave way to coveting this and that. To say Christmas is too commercialized is to say the Pope is Catholic. Yet, we’ve just lit the second candle on the Advent wreath and already many of us are wrapped up in Christmas gifts. We’re making our list, checking it twice, stocking up on cellophane tape and stamps. We’re wondering what to wear to the Christmas party.
Sadly, Christmas has become a social rather than religious holiday. We’ve known it for years.
The question is, how do we change? To emulate Ebeneezer Scrooge or the
Grinch prior to their conversion is no solution. Christmas bashing runs contrary to Christianity.
Clearly, preparing the way of the Lord calls for joyful expectation and celebration. We cannot escape from certain traditions — does anybody really like fruitcake? — but we can reform our customs and control our intentions.
If your usual holiday rituals leave you feeling empty, remember that it’s never too late to revive the meaning of the feast. If you’re already feeling the crush of Christmas pressure, take a deep breath and consider how you might resist setting yourself up for the disappointment that a commercial Christmas inevitably brings. Set an Advent agenda that hearkens a simpler yet more meaningful celebration of the season.
Remember the initial intentions of St. Nicholas of Bari, from whom sprang Santa Claus, with his pack full of our heart’s material desires. St. Nicholas cared for people not only in his congregation but in the wider community, giving his attention particularly to those who most needed care.
As you make your list and check it twice, consider adding Jesus. The Christmas gifts the Christ Child would appreciate today are not gold, frankincense and myrrh, but food for the hungry, clothing for the naked, companionship for the lonely. Consider alternative gift giving such as a donation to Catholic Relief Services to support the delivery of food, water, medicine and blankets to the neediest people around the globe. A donation to Catholic Charities’ Christmas basket program will put food on the holiday table of a local family. Your diocesan office of justice and peace might offer an array of gifts that support human rights and human dignity and benefit our sisters and brothers in Third World countries lacking the basic necessities of life.
Advent is a time for reflection and preparation. Now is the time to concentrate on cultivating the childlike wonder with which the season of Advent should be met, rather than perpetuating the frenetic holiday pace. Creating space for personal and communal Advent devotions and doing unto others prepares us not only for the coming of Christ as celebrated on the Feast of the Nativity, but also for the second coming of Christ.
Concentrating on preparation for Christmas rather than making a production of Christmas allows us to rediscover the abiding hope of the Christmas season. By following His star, we can see the everlasting light.
“Love and joy come to you…” Merry Christmas!
