In December of 1973, while in college, I was working part-time at a Venture Store. Venture was a big box discount store. As you can imagine, during the weeks before Christmas the store was always busy, and customers were increasingly demanding. Folks were scrambling to grab the latest gadget or toy and at times the scene at Venture could best be described as frenzied. When customers discovered that the “Specially Advertised” merchandise was sold-out, they could turn downright nasty.
It was in this cacophony of ringing cash registers, blue light specials, and loud-speaker announcements that I discovered her. There she was with tears streaming down her face. It was the girl from the Health and Beauty Aids Department. I didn’t know her well, but she was cute and always friendly, and no one deserved to be that upset. I was certain that some jerk-ass customer had yelled at her and I was ready to hunt them down and give them a piece of my mind. After all, who needed this lousy job?
When I approached her and asked, “What’s the matter?” She said, “Don’t you hear it?” Puzzled, I asked, “Hear what?” “Listen!”, she said. And I did. Ever so faintly amidst the noise of weary shoppers, screaming kids, and the umpteenth Public Address Announcement, I heard the strains of the Muzak version of “Silent Night”. Before I could ask her why on earth that would make her cry, she told me that she loved the song and it touched her heart and that Christmas was her favorite time of year. She assured me that her tears were really tears of joy. Her tenderness, her serenity and her beauty filled that space.
I was speechless. And right there in that busy, crowded, awful discount store she brought Christmas to me. She gave me peace. She brought me to Bethlehem. And for the first time, I truly understood that I have a Savior.
I will never forget that night or that girl or that beautiful moment.
Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come. Mark 13:33
Peace,
Denis
P.S. That was over 50 years ago and lucky me married that beautiful girl from Venture’s Health and Beauty Aids Department. Our children and grandchildren can attest to the fact that she stills cries whenever she hears Silent Night.
Emmanuel is a Hebrew word that is made up of two parts: “Immanu” meaning “with us”, and “el” meaning God. So together, Emmanuel means “God with us.” The name Emmanuel reminds us that Jesus is not distant, but intimately present in our lives. It speaks to our need for connection with God. Here. Now. And forever.
At Christmas, my focus is often on Baby Jesus. The infant in the creche, the helpless child and his weary parents: homeless, alone and frightened. While I sit comfortably in my warm home surrounded by Christmas decorations and gifts and an excess of food, it’s challenging to relate to Jesus’ humble beginning. But then I think of my children as infants and the overwhelming concern I had for them. I remember too, my feelings of inadequacy. My need to protect them was constant, as was my fear of failure in trying to do so. I can only imagine how Joseph must have felt; disappointed at his inability to provide shelter; uncertain of his future with Mary and Jesus; fearful that he might fail.
During Advent we are reminded that we aren’t just awaiting the birth of our Savior in Bethlehem. We are also anticipating the awakening of our spirits in Christ, and His final coming at the end of time. When I reflect on those things I realize that I encounter Jesus every day. At Christmas we’re given new hearts capable of greater love. Our obstinance and unkindness can be removed. We can be free from our hearts of stone.
Recently, while Christmas shopping, I asked a cashier how she was holding up. I simply meant with the Christmas rush, the long hours, and the constant customer demands. She proceeded to tell me that she was having a tough time this year as this was the first Christmas without her husband. She said he had died on December 28th the previous year and she had taken this temporary job just to avoid Christmas preparations alone this year. She was just trying to “stay busy” and not focus on his absence. As her eyes filled with tears, I felt her pain. It was then that I was once again remembered that God’s law of Love is written on our hearts. I meekly said, “please take of yourself this Christmas”. I left the store not certain if I had comforted her, but I felt honored that she saw me as someone with whom she could share her pain.
Our ability to be Christians is only accomplished in the life and death of God’s only Son, Jesus Christ. When we turn to Christ and receive forgiveness from our sins, then God dwells within us, and we can be Christ to one another. It is then that we too become Emmanuel.
This Christmas be assured that God is with you. Sometimes all we need to do is look in the mirror.
Peace,
Denis
Therefore, the Lord himself will give you a sign; the young woman, pregnant and about to bear a son, shall name him Emmanuel.Isaiah 7:14
It’s the second week of Advent and I’m feeling the pressure to be more holy (or holy at all, in my case). So, I’m lighting my Advent wreath and reflecting on how to celebrate our Savior’s birth. How do I put aside my anxiety regarding the political rancor in our country? How do I deal with the grief of losing my best friend, fear for a dear friend who is battling a painful recovery from surgery and concern for a toddler from our parish who is facing serious health issues? Do I just put on my “Happy Christmas Face” and suck it up? I fear l that my celebration of Christmas this year might feel ingenuine.
Most importantly, can I love God and love our modern (sometimes tacky) celebration of Christmas, too? Must they be mutually exclusive? Merriam-Webster defines the word secular as: Relating to worldly concerns; not overtly or specifically religious. That doesn’t sound so menacing to me. And yet I’m constantly hearing about the evils of the secular world in which we live. It seems that I am bombarded with warnings about being consumed by our secular society. On the first Sunday of Advent, we were admonished for placing gift-giving, holiday decorating, and Santa Claus before Christ. Somehow those things are equated with secularism and by association deemed contrary to what Christmas should really be about.
Often, I think that we get so caught up in protecting our traditions we forget that some of our most sacred Christian celebrations – Easter and Christmas were placed on the calendar to take advantage of earlier non-Christian feasts. People were already partying at the spring and winter equinoxes so why not just slip Christ’s resurrection and birth into those time slots? Did we in fact Christianize earlier pagan feasts? I don’t know – maybe. But who cares? Is Christ’s birth and life on Earth less significant if he wasn’t actually born on December 25th? Is His resurrection any less meaningful because of when we celebrate?
Living in the world today, spending too much money on silly Christmas presents and decorating a tree doesn’t define our belief in Christ any more than the likelihood that we celebrate His birth on what was once a pagan feast day. In addition, pretending that everything is perfect seems foolish because no one I know has a Hallmark® Christmas where everyone falls in love and the snow falls on cue. Most of us are dealing with some hurt or fear or uncertainty. But here’s the thing, we can lay that hurt and those fears at the foot of the Cross.
I know that “Jesus is the reason for the season” but as a Christian I believe that He’s also the reason there’s a world to live in. Sometimes it’s messy and confusing. I won’t pretend that everything is okay, but I have time for tears and laughter, too. Knowing that Jesus walked among us in this world, I will relate to it the best that I can.
It just so happens that some of his creation likes a little tinsel, eggnog and “Jingle Bells” blasting from their iPhones. I suspect that God is not offended but merely amused when I’m “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” or when we finally finish decorating our 4th Christmas Tree (that’s right, four!). And for the record, in our house, we all sing “O Come O Come Emmanuel” at the dinner table after lighting our Advent wreath, too. Somehow it works because love is at the center of it all.
The Lord is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9
When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, Magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” Matthew 2:1-2
I love the gospel story of the Epiphany. I imagine the Magi following the star and journeying through vast deserts on camelback to a distant land in search of a newborn king. And discovering their hearts’ desire in the most unexpected of places.
It has occurred to me that my “understanding” of the Magi hasn’t really changed much since I was a child. I’ve always pictured them as mystical and exotic; richly robed kings or emirs driven by an ‘unearthly desire’ to find Jesus. Did they know he was born in poverty? Did they know that he would change the world? Why were they driven to find him? And upon finding him in such humble surroundings why did they prostrate themselves as if he were a king? And why the gifts? Why gold, frankincense, and myrrh?
Three gifts were presented to Jesus, but the Matthew never tells us the number of Magi or whether they were men or women. Legend tells us they were three Kings named Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, but they could as likely been astronomers. Early Christian art depicts the three men as coming from Europe, Asia, and Africa. And growing up my nativity set would show them likewise bearing their gifts – gold: a gift fit for a king; frankincense: which is burned during prayer; myrrh: which is a perfume most often associated with burial – a foreshadowing of Jesus’s death and suffering. Another tradition (brought to the U.S. by European immigrants) involves writing the initials of the three kings’ names above the main door of the home to confer blessings on the occupants for the New Year. For example, 20 + C + M + B + 24.
I still find comfort in the imagined Wise Men of my childhood – these three; certain of their mission; following yonder star without question; and knowing when they found the Christ-child that He was THE ONE.
But how do I relate to this ideal in my own life? Where is my certainty? Where is my mission? Where is my star? I think of how I sometimes miss the obvious – and maybe my star is burning brightly, and I just can’t see it. Perhaps my mission is to continue to question; to journey; to “look to the east”. Maybe I need to find my certainty in my own heart and soul. God has truly blessed me – what wonder do I seek to be assured of His love?
This is the message from the Magi for me: it doesn’t really matter if they were kings or astronomers or men. They were immigrants. They were strangers in a land searching for the unknown. They journeyed in uncertainty. They let go of any preconceptions or expectations they might have had. And when they found him and looked into the eyes of a poor child, they understood, and they were changed.
How do I accept strangers into my life today; my home; my country? How do I open my heart when others seemed to be obsessed with building walls and strengthening borders? Jesus was born in the humblest of circumstances. How do I treat those who are living in poverty, in despair? Perhaps it’s time for me to prostrate myself before the immigrant, the poor, the desperate. Isn’t that the message of Jesus? Isn’t that what the Magi were truly following?
Perhaps my challenge is to stop trying to “make sense of it all” and just follow that yonder star.
The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.”Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to your word.”
Often this passage from Luke’s Gospel conjures images of a submissive Mary. A young woman who is overwhelmed and helpless to understand what is being asked of her. Certainly, Mary would have not expected a visit from an angel, and she probably was startled by the announcement. But to me, her response is not that of a weak or frightened child but instead that of a strong woman who appears steadfast in her convictions. Mary believed in God. Mary allowed God to work through her without hesitation. Perhaps she understood more than the Gospel tells us.
Any mother will tell you that the love of her child is primal and inexplicable. Mary’s love would have been no less than that of any mother. She would likely have been concerned about bringing a child into the politically turbulent world in which she lived, not to mention the very unconventional way that she found herself with child. And yet her love overshadowed any insecurities she may have had. Mary is a model for all of us. Mary took an active role in God’s plan. She wasn’t just a vessel. She didn’t just submit. She stood tall at His cradle and at His cross. And proved that love conquers all!
Christmas comes with hope of renewal. Christmas raises our expectations of peace and goodwill. Friends and families unite. Celebrations take place. Joy is proclaimed throughout the world.
But Christmas itself doesn’t end hunger, or war, or poverty, or terrorism, or racism, or homophobia or violence, or human trafficking, or all other injustices. Still, Christ comes at Christmas and we are reminded by Mary that if we believe in God and take an active role in His plan, we can bring peace to our world. Let it be me who takes a stand; performs a small act of kindness; who makes a small sacrifice for another. Let it be me who shares a smile; who speaks a kind word; gives a gentle touch. These things multiplied by the millions as we proclaim our Christmas joy will transform our world.
And so, I ask God, “Let it be” me who helps make a difference this year.
It’s easy to imagine that John the Baptist thought that he was the ‘only one’. The only one who knew what was coming. Maybe he was skulking around in the desert wearing animal skins because he was disgusted with the state of the world and the callous disregard of others. Or perhaps he was wandering around alone as a way to quiet himself enough to receive God’s message, but I’ll never quite understand why he ate locusts. Surely there was a better way to “prepare the way”.
Advent is a good time for me to stop trying to sort it all out and just accept what Jesus is asking of me. I try to quiet myself and listen to what is truly important. Mostly I fail. But sometimes Jesus shines through. Sometimes my heart is broken open enough to allow the love of God to fill my soul. And maybe that’s the point: the hurt, the despair, the loneliness, and the frustration that I feel when I look at all the sadness and madness in our world weakens me psychologically and spiritually. But when I am most vulnerable, when I feel alone in my anger and outrage, when I am broken, and crying out alone, I pray. And then Jesus helps me “prepare the way” in my heart and in my soul.
It’s messy. At times I feel powerless. And overwhelmed. I cry out “where are you God?” And then, I find strength in my friends and family. I find goodwill in my neighbors, and I find comfort in my faith community. I find love in those around me. I see Christ’s hands and feet in the countless folks who give so generously of their time, talent, and treasure to serve others. And I stop looking at others as “the others”.
Recently we prepared and served a meal at the Ronald McDonald House. It was a simple gesture to ease the suffering of the families whose children are hospitalized. As we were busy about our tasks, another group came in to “entertain” the children with decorating sugar cookies. Sadly, I was focused on “getting the job done” and paid little attention to those we were serving. And then, while we were cleaning up the kitchen, I noticed a young girl about 4 or 5 years old who obviously had multiple surgeries on her tiny hands. We learned that she was from Panama, and she spoke no English. She carefully decorated a cookie and with her one good hand presented it to one of our friends who had joined us for the evening. This little girl’s gentle offering was incredible. It was completely disarming. And a reminder that God is always with us.
I grew up with images of Sweet Baby Jesus being born on Christmas day. Sometimes I’m nostalgic for those days of innocence: Jesus’ and mine. In the comfort of my suburban home, I imagined all good girls and boys had the same kind of Christmas to which I was entitled. I was taught that Jesus was born poor and in a stable but, I had no real understanding of poverty or homelessness. Our Christmases were gloriously predictable: Santa would come; cookies would be baked; dinner would be plentiful; family would gather. And plaster Baby Jesus was perfectly happy to stay tucked away in his manger with Mary and Joseph dutifully at his side while we opened our presents.
While playing with my new toys, I would give an occasional nod to Jesus. We would attend Mass and sing our carols and I knew that Christmas was about the birth of Jesus. But my world was small and my understanding of life beyond my family, my neighborhood, and my parish was limited. And I liked it that way. There was security in the bubble that was my young life. Mom and Dad and my brothers and baby sister were all I needed. The messy stuff; the scary stuff; the life outside; was more than my little mind could (or would) comprehend.
Then it happened. I grew up. Life got messy and sometimes scary, but I held on tight to my need for perfect Christmases. I wanted everyone to be happy. “Jingle Bells” would be blaring from my cassette tape player. Reality would be put on hold. As a newlywed I found Christmas to be another opportunity to share our love but with the added stress of finding (and affording) that perfect gift. When our children came along, I tried desperately to give them the Christmas of my youth: warm, secure, loving, with plenty of gifts and a dash of Baby Jesus thrown in for good measure. And we would routinely go in debt to make darn sure that happened. Because no one could be disappointed with a less than perfect Christmas!
They say with age comes wisdom. I’m not sure if that’s true. I think more accurately “with age comes the same mistakes over and over”. And sometimes if we’re paying attention or we get kicked in the head we might actually learn from those mistakes. You can call that wisdom, I guess. At least that’s my wisdom experience.
I mean no disrespect to anyone who needs the image of Baby Jesus at Christmas. I love babies and I think it’s remarkable that our Savior was born an infant. However, Jesus’ humble birth sends a message that for most of my life escaped me. As I’ve aged, I’ve come to the realization that Christmas comes to everyone, not just the happy little families gathered around their tree. I will always cherish my childhood experience of Christmas, but as Christians we are called to have a preference for the poor, the marginalized, the forgotten. “As followers of Christ, we are challenged to make a fundamental ‘option for the poor’—to speak for the voiceless, to defend the defenseless, to assess lifestyles, policies and social institutions in terms of their impact on the poor”. I have some work to do.
But here’s the good news: Jesus comes for all of us! What I need to constantly remind myself is that Christmas comes whether we’re celebrating a beautiful Christmas liturgy or working the graveyard shift at a convenience store. Christmas comes whether the gifts under our tree are beautifully wrapped and plentiful or if they are being given to us by a volunteer at the Salvation Army. Christmas comes if we’re enjoying a sumptuous feast with family gathered or sitting alone at a soup kitchen. Christmas comes while we’re holding our sweet-cheeked grandchild on our lap or holding the hand of a loved who has just received a devastating diagnosis. Christmas comes whether we are celebrating new love or mourning the loss of our lifetime companion. Christmas comes with giggles and joy and with tears and heartache. Christmas comes.
I still strive for those perfect Christmases. The ones where everyone is happy and well fed and sufficiently gifted and loved beyond measure. But now I know to also look for Jesus in the less fortunate circumstances. I try to find Christmas in the hurried shoppers, the beleaguered parents, the refugees searching for a home, the lonely neighbor, the recovering alcoholic, the estranged family member, and that old man that I see in the mirror.
So, my prayer this year is that wherever we find ourselves, we are still able to shout the Good News. Jesus is born! Our salvation is at hand.Whether you’re in a high holy place with a glorious choir singing Alleluia or handing out “Toys for Tots” to children in need; if you are “on top of world” or find yourself lost in despair, hoping for better days to come or pining for days gone by, I hope that Jesus (or whatever/wherever you find comfort at Christmas) touches your heart and lifts your spirits.
May your Christmas this year be perfected by His love.
Denis
The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all people. Today a savior has been born for you.”
This Christmas feels more nostalgic than most Christmases. My wife and I both lost our Dads this year.
Deb’s Dad was quieter, more thoughtful in his approach to family celebrations. He often took a backseat to the festivities. He was an observer; cherishing the love and joy from a slight distance and holding it all in his heart. Still, he knew more about what was going on than most because he watched; he listened; he paid attention to the details. And he loved us.
My Dad liked to be front and center. He was always in the mix (sometimes in the way). He was bold and loud and he loved the spotlight. He sometimes missed the subtlety of a situation because he was way too busy trying to get his point across; tell his joke; make his mark. But he loved Christmas and loved being being surrounded by his family. And he loved us.
Two very different men. Two very different ways of celebrating Christmas.
So here we are, celebrating Christmas without our patriarchs. I know that both would want a happy Christmas for us all. This year I will try to make Christmas past present.
I will step back when I can (realizing of course for me this is a struggle) and breathe in the spirit of it all. I will try to be the astute observer that my dear father-in-law was. I will try to cherish those quiet moments and pay attention to the often overlooked details of our gatherings. I will keep an eye out for the forgotten; the weary; the under-served in our family, community and world. That’s what Pop would do.
I will also be cheerful (even when I might feel a bit melancholy) and try to lift the spirits of those around me. I will eat a little too much, laugh a little too loud and tell some of the same old jokes a little too often. I will compliment everyone on everything and truly be thankful for what I receive. I will remind us all how lucky we are to be part of this family, community and world. That’s what Dad would do.
We are blessed this year. Our children and grandchildren are with us to celebrate Christmas. We are healthy. We are fed. We have shelter. We have faith. We have hope. And even though two great men have left us this year, they remain present in our love for one another.
May you and those you love find peace this Christmas,
Denis
For a child is born to us, a son is given us; upon his shoulder dominion rests. They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace. His dominion is vast and forever peaceful. Isaiah 9:5-6
It’s hard not to feel nostalgic this Christmas. I’m longing for days gone by. Our house is quiet this morning. No trips to the airport to gather loved ones. No extra house guests. No last minute dashing off for a forgotten gift or overlooked ingredient for someone’s favorite Christmas dish. No giggles and wiggles waiting for Santa to show up. All is calm.
Most years I am secretly fighting with my ‘internal Scrooge’ on Christmas Eve morning. I’m usually a little cranky by now and complaining in my head about all the expense, the preparation, the aggravation, and the exhaustion. And for what? One day when we all get together and “celebrate” Christmas and hope (and pray) that we can all get along. No disappointments. No disagreements. No hurt feelings. No tears.
But Christmas past is past. This year it’s Christmas present that I’m struggling with. Two of our children, our daughter-in-law and three of our grandchildren will not be with us this year. None of my siblings, nieces nor nephews will be joining us. Neither of our dads will be here. And of course, our moms, who have gone on to greater glory, won’t be here again this Christmas.
So many have lost so much this year. And I feel ashamed of my selfishness. I want ALL my family to be together. I want the cacophony of little voices and old jokes and silly games. I want a house full of noise and mess and chaos. I want all that stuff that I (maybe not so secretly) complain about any other year. I don’t want disappointments, or disagreements or hurt feelings but I’ll take it, if that means there will also be surprises and laughter and love.
Tonight I will try to embrace my Christmas present. And will thank God for my smaller, healthier gathering. I promise to cherish each and every moment. I will hold in my heart those who cannot be with us. I will love the ones who are with us all the more. This year my Christmas present is my present. I hope that I can accept it with grace. And perhaps a few tears along the way might be cleansing.
2020 has been exhausting for all of us. My prayer this Christmas is that the weary world can rejoice once more.
During the four weeks of Advent we are supposed to be waiting for Jesus. And most years I am too busy to settle myself into contemplation of Christ’s coming. But this year is different. We are shopping on line. All the Christmas baking is done. The house is already decorated. We are not traveling. We are not entertaining. There are few gifts to wrap because everything is being delivered by Amazon. And still I find little time for Jesus. So it seems all my “too busy” excuses of Christmases past were just rubbish.
This year I have plenty of time to quiet myself and listen for His voice. Instead I grumble about not having MY CHRISTMAS. The Christmas that I WANT with all our extended family; with Christmas cocktail parties; with Christmas concerts; with Christmas pageants; with Christmas shopping. After all isn’t that what Jesus wants, too? You know, normal Christmas with all the pomp and circumstance and just enough time to squeeze in a little “holiness” like Midnight Mass or a Novena to make it all seem sanctified.
But here I am in 2020, with plenty of time to pray and reflect on Christ’s coming: Christ coming into our world as a helpless infant; Christ coming into our world today as the love that surrounds us and sustains us; Christ coming at the end of time to save us and bring us home. I’ve complained about all the disruptions, pain and loss that Covid-19 has brought to our world. And I’ve readily used it as an excuse to not do some things I might have otherwise done. But I cannot use it as an excuse for not celebrating Advent and Christmas this year. I have the time!
I’m certain that the first Christmas wasn’t exactly what Mary and Joseph had planned but events beyond their control forced them to travel to Bethlehem. Mary’s joy was not diminished because she gave birth to Jesus amidst the most humble of circumstances. Neither should our joy be diminished by circumstances beyond our control. The corona virus and all it’s related heartache has had a profound effect on all of us this year but still our Savior comes. Perhaps I can use this time of uncertainty to remain watchful and ready.
Aristotle is credited with saying, “To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake it is necessary to stand out in the cold.” Maybe a cold, harsh winter is what I need. Maybe freezing my backside off will make me appreciate the warmth and beauty of my home and stop my complaining about what I have missed this year.
Mostly I pray that a long cold winter will help me embrace the coming spring and create room in my heart for His love.
Peace,
Denis
Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. You too must be patient. Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand.
Journeying & Journaling 