I am the Grinch.
If you asked her, my wife would tell you that my middle name is Ebenezer
because I’m the guy that cries Humbug on all her holiday intentions.
Joanna: “Chris, should we put up the tree?”
Me: “Isn’t it a little early for
that?" (It’s late November)
Joanna: “Honey, all I want for Christmas this
year is lights put up on the house”
Me: “Lights are such a waste of
time and money - you can’t put them up before Remembrance Day because it’s
disrespectful to our veterans, which means you have to wait until the bitter
cold and snow sets in and then precariously hang out on a ladder without gloves
on because you need dexterity in your hands which quickly turn into handsicles
all to waste electricity for about 2 months of the year before those same
lights become an eyesore and you start to nag at me about taking them down
because it’s June!”
Joanna: [Comes home with another Advent
Calendar or Nativity Set]
Me: [sighs disdainfully] “did we
really need another?”
Aren't I awesome?
In the past few years I have developed an aversion to Christmas. I can’t
quite explain why - I didn’t used to be so miserly when it came to dispensing
holiday cheer but I have had trouble in the past while finding joy in the
season. For some reason that I cannot explain I just find Christmas exhausting.
And it’s not the good type of exhaustion that comes from a busy season of
preparation that culminates in a magical 24 hours of celebration but the type
of paralyzing pre-emptive exhaustion that incapacitates the best of intentions.
When Joanna asks me about what gifts to buy for our kids, or our extended
family I get physically tense and my blood pressure skyrockets; when I think of
decorating the house I get the same feeling - it’s almost akin to a panic
attack but without any sense of fear. I can’t explain it but it’s been harder
on my family than it’s been on me I’m sure. The worst part is that I never used
to be that way - I was the guy in college that went an purchased a full sized
Christmas tree and all the trimmings to set up in his dorm room at Christmas
time; I helped plan Christmas banquets and joyfully sang in holiday concerts. I
used to love Christmas shopping and buying gifts for people, it brought me so
much joy to think of how happy they would be when they opened their gifts on
Christmas morning - now I have a hard time seeing past the consumerism of the
whole ordeal.
Many of you I’m sure can relate. For reasons as varied and unique as the
people they belong to, Christmas has become a season to endure rather than a
season to enjoy. For some people it’s because of the crushing loneliness that
comes with a season where spending time with loved ones is so talked about, and
yet they find themselves either without loved ones, or too far away to spend
time with them. For some people it’s a reminder of broken relationships -
people who should be a part of their holiday agenda are torn from their lives
by hurts and bitterness and unforgiveness. When the table is set for Christmas
dinner there is an empty seat that reminds them of the person or persons
missing from the occasion - and that sense of loss can’t be glossed over, even
by shuffling the chairs. For some people this time of year is associated with
tragedy, or loss or death: What is there to be happy about when the person who
brought them so much joy in Christmases past is no longer with them, and when
every stolen glance of the Christmas tree reminds of them of that person who is
no longer a part of their life?
There may be other factors that turn the freshly fallen Christmas snow
that ugly shade of mid-winter brown for people. Poverty in a season fixated on
gift giving- the anxiety of parents trying to bring joy to their children but
who lack the means to spend like their neighbours. Afraid of disappointing
their kids, or discovering that their children were the only ones who didn’t
get that special toy that every kid got that year. Those who are sick, or
hospitalized in a season of socializing, parties and merriment often feel left
out and left behind, not wanting to be a burden upon anyone’s festive buzz.
Whatever the reason - many people like me find Christmas something to be endured
rather than celebrated - and even that feeling brings associated guilt and
compounding distress with it.
“Humbug!" We say and then do our level best to avoid Christmas
without ruining a happy season for anyone else. But that in itself is an
impossibility. Because most of us are horrible liars. Most of us cannot hide
our feelings. Most of us cannot fake the spirit of the season and we end up
punishing the ones we love, and who love us, most with our melancholy and
sadness. Joanna actually asked me this year after a particularly heated fight
over my poor attitude if I wanted to cancel Christmas in our family. She wasn’t
bluffing - she honestly was trying to figure out a way to make me happy and was
willing to do whatever it took to make it so - that was when I knew I needed
something more.
And that was when I finally got to the point where I was ready for
Christmas.
Not Santa Claus, or elves or presents or parties. Not decorations, or
eggnog (that stuff is gross), or turkey or carols - but Christmas. I was ready
to admit that I needed something. The irony of the contemporary
celebration of Christmas is that too often it is grounded in the joyful
reception of a divine gift (the birth of Christ) without the acknowledgement
that we needed the gift in the first place. We see Jesus like a Christmas
sweater - something nice to receive but that no one put on the top of their
Christmas list. Christmas is not like that - it’s more like being handed an
umbrella in the middle of a rainstorm, or a bottle of water handed to a parched
desert traveller, or shelter to a homeless man on a -40 Manitoba winter night.
It’s something that we are desperate for, not baubles or trinkets or
perfunctory gifts - Christmas is the answer to a desperate cry.
And that’s why for as long as the Church has celebrated Christmas, they
have also celebrated Advent. Advent is the beginning of what we colloquially
call the “Christmas season” it’s the lead up to the big day, but its arguably
the most important part of the celebration too. It’s in Advent that we
acknowledge that all is not as it should be. It’s in Advent that we learn to
join our voices with the prophets of old in a cry for a saviour. It’s in Advent
that we learn to rage against the machine that is snow-globe sentimentality to discover
the inner discord of our spirits as we recognize what should be, but isn’t. The
angst of Advent is a necessary pre-requisite for the joy of Christmas and it’s
in this season of longing that all the reluctant holiday celebrants, like me,
can find their voice in the grand Christmas narrative.
But Advent isn’t about simply being miserable and understanding that
life sucks sometimes - Advent pushes us toward something. Advent moves us from
a place of despair to a place of hope, of peace, of love, and perhaps even a
place of joy. To understand Advent is to acknowledge that the great hope of the
OT prophets was not in vain. That one day, 2000 years ago their prayers were
answered, that Messiah did come, and that hope was validated once
and for all in the incarnation. We were not alone - God was with us. And for us
today Advent is the declaration against all evidence to the contrary that God’s
promises are sure, that the one who faithfully came as a baby will one day
fulfill his promise to come again as a king. And so the two sides of the
Christmas coin find balance in the traditional celebration of both longing and
of joy.
And so I hung the Christmas lights on a cold November day.
And we put up the tree earlier than my arbitrary December 1 line in the
sand.
And I didn’t accept my wife’s invitation to cancel Christmas (although I
did gladly allow her to do 99% of the Christmas shopping on my behalf).
Because I need Christmas. Without the joy of the Christmas season my
Advent journey goes nowhere. Without the proclamation of the angels to the
shepherds, the proclamation of the prophets rings hollow and empty. Without the
vindication of Messiah - God incarnate come to earth, my holiday despair has no
meaning. But with Christmas it helps me to understand that all of this is going
somewhere. That all of this is moving toward something. That Jesus who came as
a baby, will come again as a king. And that gives me hope.
Christmas doesn’t come except through Advent. So if you find yourself in
full-on holiday celebration mode this year – full of joy and excitement and
anticipation, ask yourself have you taken the correct path to get to that place
of joy? Have you opened your eyes to recognize that things are not right in the
world. That brokenness is everywhere and that Christmas exists because the
world actually needs saving from something? If you haven’t I guarantee that
there are people in your life, in your sphere of relationships who might be
able to teach you something about Advent that you have missed.
And at the same time, if you find yourself in perpetual Advent at this
time of year don’t be so quick to forsake the joys of Christmas. Understand
what you can learn from your overly joyful neighbor and don’t allow your Advent
wanderings to lead you nowhere. Advent always leads to Jesus. And Christmas is
the validation of our longing and hope.
Whatever your lot this holiday season, weather joyful or painful I pray
that the two-fold blessing of Advent and Christmas may come to mean something
more to you than it ever has before. Even the Grinch understood that!
Merry Christmas, Come Lord Jesus.
“I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you this testimony for the churches. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star.” The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let the one who hears say, “Come!” Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life.Revelation 22:16-17
