What we call the Yuletide is now upon us. It's that most wonderful time
of the year when Christians and Retail Giants whip themselves into a
frothy frenzy in order to celebrate the birthday of history's greatest Jew.
One way we do this is by putting a tree in our living room. My tree is
artificial, much like the Seasons Greetings extended by those Retail
Giants, as well as what passes for Christianity these days.
Some folks also deck their lawns with brightly lit nativity scenes
featuring the Baby Jesus in the manger wrapped in swaddling clothes. I'm
not sure why he was dressed in swaddling clothes.
Once, for my birthday, I was given a pair of blue jeans that swaddled. I
just didn't like them so I exchanged them for a pair that didn't swaddle. Swaddling clothes were just not my style.
But back to the manger. This holy scene is often enhanced by a cast of
reverent characters (also brightly lit) that includes shepherds,
gift-bearing kings, glorious angels and Frosty the Snowman.
Frosty was there in Bethlehem when Jesus was born. He just didn't get any press until much later, when the song was written.
The Baby Jesus figurine in those outdoor displays is almost always
naked from the waist up. I guess his clothes must have swaddled down on
him, much like those blue jeans I had.
In Nebraska, where I grew up, the night time temperatures dip well into
the lower 20s. Would someone please do the Christian thing and give
Baby Jesus a parka?
I'll chip in. It could be an early birthday present.
Church is a big thing this time of year. People flock to it as though
it hadn't been there before. There is, I admit, something particularly
awe-striking about a church festively decorated for the Christmas
season. And going to church on Christmas is probably better than never going at
all.
Our hearts tell us that God is there inside those cathedral walls. For
me, He should be inside our hearts and often is not. I guess you
never know where you're going to find God, though.
Thomas Paine said, "These are the times that try men's souls." No doubt he was referring to the Christmas shopping season.
Yuletide Shopping brings out the Christian in all of us, wouldn't you agree? I've seen it happen.
Two mothers, complete strangers until they met each other in line outside the Big Box at midnight, display their camaraderie when they both spot that last popular electronic game
console that went on sale for $5000 at 4 in the morning.
And there they are, in Toy Aisle 7, tightly embracing each other--by the
hair with one hand and gripping the Bargain of the Day with the other.
This, ladies and gentleman, is togetherness.
It's somewhat amusing to me that a season that promises peace and joy
is officially ushered in on a day called Black Friday. The day before
that, we were gathered with family and friends to enjoy a turkey dinner
and to give our Lord thanks for His blessings.
So on the following day, people meet at the mall in the predawn, carrying a leftover turkey drumstick with which to beat the hell out of their savage bargain-hunting opponents.
I like our Christmas tree, the one pictured above this column. Karen
and I have had that same angel for 44 years. She's always adorned the
top of every tree we've had.
Here she is, close up:
The Irish musician Enya sings a Christmas song called "Magic of the Night." It's a beautiful expression of Yuletide dreams, ringing bells, and angels in flight. That is indeed the magic.
At night, when our living room is lit by nothing but the Christmas tree
lights, and holiday music is quietly playing in the background, our
angel takes on a particular glow and brightens my spirit.
No malls. No crowds. No lines. No waiting. No anger. No bargains. No fighting.
Our angel is in flight. And the night becomes magic in its solitude. The heart becomes humble.
And there is peace and joy in the season.
As Linus said, "That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."
Copyright 2007 Wendel James Potter
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