Dec 2013
Merry ______mas
Sun 15 Dec 2013 Filed in: Reflections
Something was missing. It’s not my intention to fight another round in the battle for Christmas. I hear a lot about that battle, and I smile at the increasing number of people who try to be politically correct by saying “Happy holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” I confess that the difference in word choice amuses me more than it bothers me. A holiday, after all, is literally a holy day, so maybe we ought to be happy with that. But something was missing.
It happened a week ago. We were in Canada to visit Valerie’s mom and to be with her for the annual Christmas party at Bevan Village where she lives. (And yes, they do still call it a Christmas party.) There was a gentleman there whose role was to provide Christmas music during the meal. I’m dad to a musician, so I know that singing and playing to a crowd of people who are making more noise than you are might not be the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps that’s why I tried to listen as I ate. The first song was I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. I looked around, but nobody seemed interested in kissing Santa. Frosty the Snowman was next, and in fairness we did get a bit of snow the next day. After Rudolph his attention turned to bells: Jingle Bells and Silver Bells. I began to wonder if he actually knew any real Christmas carols. The first song that came close to recognizing that Christmas might be about the birth of someone special was Little Drummer Boy, and that was done as an instrumental without any lyrics.
Nobody else seemed to notice in spite of the fact that the same space we occupied is used several days a week by people singing hymns. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not against the popular trappings of Christmas. We’ve cut and decorated a tree, we still send Christmas cards, and we do some Christmas shopping. I even went to the mall on Black Friday. Twice (but that’s another story....) The trappings of Christmas are fun and good -- until they crowd out the one whose birth we celebrate.
It probably shouldn’t surprise me to discover how easily I can accept the secularization of Christmas; I have, after all, lived through plenty of Decembers. But I don’t want to look back on this one with the nagging feeling that something was missing. This year I want for me - and for you - a merry CHRISTmas.
It happened a week ago. We were in Canada to visit Valerie’s mom and to be with her for the annual Christmas party at Bevan Village where she lives. (And yes, they do still call it a Christmas party.) There was a gentleman there whose role was to provide Christmas music during the meal. I’m dad to a musician, so I know that singing and playing to a crowd of people who are making more noise than you are might not be the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps that’s why I tried to listen as I ate. The first song was I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. I looked around, but nobody seemed interested in kissing Santa. Frosty the Snowman was next, and in fairness we did get a bit of snow the next day. After Rudolph his attention turned to bells: Jingle Bells and Silver Bells. I began to wonder if he actually knew any real Christmas carols. The first song that came close to recognizing that Christmas might be about the birth of someone special was Little Drummer Boy, and that was done as an instrumental without any lyrics.
Nobody else seemed to notice in spite of the fact that the same space we occupied is used several days a week by people singing hymns. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not against the popular trappings of Christmas. We’ve cut and decorated a tree, we still send Christmas cards, and we do some Christmas shopping. I even went to the mall on Black Friday. Twice (but that’s another story....) The trappings of Christmas are fun and good -- until they crowd out the one whose birth we celebrate.
It probably shouldn’t surprise me to discover how easily I can accept the secularization of Christmas; I have, after all, lived through plenty of Decembers. But I don’t want to look back on this one with the nagging feeling that something was missing. This year I want for me - and for you - a merry CHRISTmas.
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