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Christ is coming!
One of the strange things to me about religion is some of the ritual. Christ is long gone from our world. He was born, he died, he rose. All past tense. But we are awaiting his coming, which is present progressive tense. Remember, I'm an English teacher. And it's not like we talk about this as the second coming during this time of year, but the birth as if it were happening again.
I also have a good imagination, and understand that we are pretending, acting out the coming birth in Advent, just as we will act out his death in just a few months. I can go along with this, but still, it's just a little weird how we Christians reenact the emotions that go along with these events. I'm not saying we shouldn't be emotional, just that...well... God made us into some pretty interesting beings, no?
I am always excited about Christmas coming. I love the decorations. I have trees and Nativities all over my house. I get choked up seeing the lights all over the city. I love the movies, and got choked up last night at the Music Box Theater's annual double feature. My husband, Paul, wrote about it better than I could. I love the music and carols, or most of them, and the way that people get a little friendlier. Midwesterners are pretty friendly folks all year long, but they open up more with the bell ringers, and cold weather and other things that we all share as we go about our days. And I am excited knowing that Christ was born a beautiful baby boy, even as I will grow sad in a few months knowing he must die a horrible death to save all of us.
There are all the cliches about keeping Christmas all year long and remembering what/who Christmas is all about. In past years our church bulletins and announcements have used the title "ChristMass" which is closer to the Middle English spelling and was probably used as subtle reminder to us to remember where our priorities should lie. (Again, English professors love etymology as much as verb tenses.) There are bumper stickers about "Keeping Christ in Christmas" and people who lament that Christmas has become all about gift giving. Even Lucy in the Peanuts comic back in the 1960s noted that Christmas has become a "big commercial racket." It's nothing new. Even the idea that Christmas shouldn't be a holiday is silly. Holiday comes from the words "holy" and "day." We just forget that too.
So this week, I'll be getting the last-minute wrapping done, and picking up the holiday ham, and hoping I haven't forgotten anything. And I'll be smiling at people, like I do all year long. But I'll be adding some "Merry Christmas" greetings in there, and putting some money in the Salvation Army pots. But what I'm really looking forward to is Christmas Eve Mass, feeling that closeness to my family and friends, celebrating the joy of a new baby coming into the world, one who probably smelled of fresh hay and wool blankets, who blinked his new baby eyes and had those cute pink baby lips made for sucking at his mother's breast. One who had such a big job to do, but whose mother and father protected and loved him, even as they wondered what would be happening in his future. Even though we know the story, we can share that wonder too.
One of the strange things to me about religion is some of the ritual. Christ is long gone from our world. He was born, he died, he rose. All past tense. But we are awaiting his coming, which is present progressive tense. Remember, I'm an English teacher. And it's not like we talk about this as the second coming during this time of year, but the birth as if it were happening again.
I also have a good imagination, and understand that we are pretending, acting out the coming birth in Advent, just as we will act out his death in just a few months. I can go along with this, but still, it's just a little weird how we Christians reenact the emotions that go along with these events. I'm not saying we shouldn't be emotional, just that...well... God made us into some pretty interesting beings, no?
I am always excited about Christmas coming. I love the decorations. I have trees and Nativities all over my house. I get choked up seeing the lights all over the city. I love the movies, and got choked up last night at the Music Box Theater's annual double feature. My husband, Paul, wrote about it better than I could. I love the music and carols, or most of them, and the way that people get a little friendlier. Midwesterners are pretty friendly folks all year long, but they open up more with the bell ringers, and cold weather and other things that we all share as we go about our days. And I am excited knowing that Christ was born a beautiful baby boy, even as I will grow sad in a few months knowing he must die a horrible death to save all of us.
There are all the cliches about keeping Christmas all year long and remembering what/who Christmas is all about. In past years our church bulletins and announcements have used the title "ChristMass" which is closer to the Middle English spelling and was probably used as subtle reminder to us to remember where our priorities should lie. (Again, English professors love etymology as much as verb tenses.) There are bumper stickers about "Keeping Christ in Christmas" and people who lament that Christmas has become all about gift giving. Even Lucy in the Peanuts comic back in the 1960s noted that Christmas has become a "big commercial racket." It's nothing new. Even the idea that Christmas shouldn't be a holiday is silly. Holiday comes from the words "holy" and "day." We just forget that too.
So this week, I'll be getting the last-minute wrapping done, and picking up the holiday ham, and hoping I haven't forgotten anything. And I'll be smiling at people, like I do all year long. But I'll be adding some "Merry Christmas" greetings in there, and putting some money in the Salvation Army pots. But what I'm really looking forward to is Christmas Eve Mass, feeling that closeness to my family and friends, celebrating the joy of a new baby coming into the world, one who probably smelled of fresh hay and wool blankets, who blinked his new baby eyes and had those cute pink baby lips made for sucking at his mother's breast. One who had such a big job to do, but whose mother and father protected and loved him, even as they wondered what would be happening in his future. Even though we know the story, we can share that wonder too.
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