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Column Unwrap your hidden inner Christmas
By KRIS BERGGREN
Once again, Christmas -- or, to be
politically correct, The Holiday Formerly Known as Christmas (THFKAC for short)
-- is upon us. Makes it sound like a stealth bomber or an avalanche or at least
a runner from behind. Something to be wary of.
Thats how many women feel as December rolls around.
Theres sort of a pleasant lull between Halloween and Thanksgiving, not
too much pressure. Lots of people get away with eating their mothers or
mother-in-laws turkey dinner, so no sweat there. Maybe bring a side dish,
a pie. But watch out, because once December hits, moms all across the nation
move into high gear. We write cards; take, copy and insert photos into said
cards; plan meals; coordinate outfits for each family member; purchase, wrap
and Fed Ex gifts; haul boxes from basements and attics; clean in the corners
(or figure out how to strategically place the Christmas tree to hide them);
accommodate guests; bake cookies; attend concerts; sew Christmas pageant
costumes; remember to tip the newspaper deliverers. The average Jane (and
its almost always a Jane, not a Joe) is expected to become a holiday
manager extraordinaire, and to keep smiling while she does it all. I am out of
breath and can feel my blood pressure rise just typing these words.
I remember a conversation I had one year with a Jewish friend who
lamented the omnipresence of Christmas trappings in our culture. Her position
is understandable: Its easy to feel like a disenfranchised outsider when
her holiday traditions are all but ignored, and, moreover, she is forced every
way she turns to digest some manifestation of THFKAC -- carols blaring in
stores, candy canes and reindeer decorating office lobbies and window displays,
advertisements featuring children in red and green plaid pajamas opening gifts
under indoor trees. I tried to convince her that my real holy day is buried
beneath this sybaritic free-for-all, too, and that what I celebrate this season
isnt all this stuff about stuff. She wasnt buying it. I guess
shes right. I can play both sides on this one -- I dont feel funny
putting a Christmas tree in my living room, but I dont have to feel that
I stick out like Rudolph with his red nose for not having one.
What I hoped to convince my friend was that my holiday isnt
about succumbing to the oft-reviled temptations of the season any more than
hers is. These include the temptation to buy stuff (need I say more?), as well
as to entertain and be entertained (usually involving lots of butter-laden food
and strong alcoholic beverages meant for medieval people who lived in cold
castles, not moms who have to drive to swim meets and band practice early in
the morning). The worst siren song of all pulls us toward perfection -- the
temptation to produce a perfect party; a flawlessly dressed, shod and coiffed
family ready to go to church on time; a house decorated with seasonal emphasis
yet appropriate restraint -- in other words, we are tempted to exhibit good
taste at all times. Kind of makes you want to lock yourself in the bathroom
with a carton of full-strength eggnog.
But wait. I know, and I guess you do, too, that all this fuss
isnt about the real Christmas, the inner Christmas hidden within the
layers of the outer Christmas like those Russian wooden dolls-within-dolls.
Its about the kind of Christmas I felt as a child, when the mystery of
Santa surely had its place, but in which the wonder of why Jesus would bother
with us at all underscored all the other symbols of the season, welcome light
illuminating darkness, rituals of gift-giving, embracing the earthly elements
of stars, fire, trees.
So Ive decided to avoid THFKAC for as long as possible, and
instead to live in the joyous waiting of Advent while I may. I will avoid malls
(OK, Ill shop online some, but Ill also go to craft sales, museum
shops and give of myself when I can). I will breathe deeply and walk the dog
every day. I will turn down an invitation or two if my calendar feels
uncomfortably full. And speaking of full, I will continue my thrice-weekly
three-mile run, no matter how cold, because it keeps me sane and counters that
eggnog nicely. I will renew my resolve to honor the children in my life and the
ones suffering from war and hunger and spiritual starvation around the world.
Jesus came to us as a child -- that tells me all I need to know. I will hope
for snow to sparkle in the moonlight and wash away the sins of the world. I
figure if I stay in Advent as long as I can, the better to see Christmas when
it finally comes. Then I will approach it with open arms instead of trying to
keep it from catching up with me.
Come to think of it, I dont even like eggnog. Time to take
the dog for a walk. This year, I hope you, too, unwrap your inner
Christmas.
Kris Berggren writes from Minneapolis.
National Catholic Reporter, December 21,
2001
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