The quiet of a Christmas morn...

In December 1993, the "traditional choir" at Santa Bovina church (my old parish) sang with Peatown United Methodist's choir in a two-evening concert series. One of the songs we sang was a gorgeous piece called "Carol of the Manger," which still makes me a little teary-eyed to this day. The final verse (if memory recalls) goes like this:

Mary in the morning, beside the manger
All the shepherds gone, no more angel choirs...
And the future in her arms.

One does have to wonder what happened when the sun came up on Christmas morning -- what Joseph and Mary must have thought. Here they were, a teen mother and her betrothed, with a miracle child announced to them separately by angels. Here they were, stuck in a cave at best, a crude barn at worst, and laying this precious little bundle in the feeding trough because nothing else is available. And in the midst of all this miracle stuff that they're trying to process, here come shepherds -- simple, poor, country people -- wanting to see their baby.

Can you imagine what Joseph might have said at that time? "Our baby? But why? Wait, wait -- you were on the hillsides with the sheep and the skies opened? Great light came through and an angel -- Mary, what IS it with these angels? -- an angel told you that you would find the Messiah in Bethlehem? Swaddling clothes ... lying in a manger? Well, yes, that would be us. Oh, and there was an angelic choir alongside? You know, given everything that's happened over the last year, it doesn't surprise me at all. Yes, please, come in ... here he is."

And once the shepherds were gone, and the sun was up, and it was just this tiny little holy family. The hubbub has died down, and it's just them. The first day of life outside the womb for eternity-stepping-into-time and boundlessness-into-physical-space (thanks to Fr. Sandy for the phrases). Reality sets in and the quiet of regular life comes tiptoeing in. A baby who does cry, who pees and poops and yawns and does everything else a baby does.

Of course, there's more to come in the story ... much more. Spread across two Gospels, and the timing is still not quite known for sure. We can take guesses. We know that they were in Bethlehem for a while. We know that he was circumcised on the eighth day, in accordance with the Law. We know that forty days after, because he was a boy-child, Mary was to go to the Temple for purification and to present him. We know that at some point, they were in a house -- so they might have stayed in Bethlehem for Joseph to do some work to earn enough money for the return trip to Nazareth, but who knows? And while they were in this house ... perhaps when Jesus was even around 18 months old or so ... astrologers from the Orient came to find him, unwittingly stopping by Herod's to inquire about the new King. Rut-roh!!! They found him, and gave gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Myrrh? An embalming spice? What the...? Oh well, it brings lots of money.

Mary & Joseph were going to need it. Once again, angels intervene, to both Joseph and the Oriental sages -- Get out now, Joseph -- head toward Egypt. Trust us on this. Hey, magi: Go back home a different way! Herod, in his madness and anger and fear at losing his kingdom, orders all males under age 2 in Bethlehem and the few surrounding hamlets slaughtered. Rounded up and killed for no other reason than insanity.

But before all that happened, it was a quiet morning in Bethlehem. A little cooing, a little stirring, a couple of changes of swaddles, and probably a lot of napping. And lots of pondering. In the quiet, lots and lots of wondering just what all the events of the night before meant, and how it would all turn out.

***

Every major religious festival in this time has a similar theme: light triumphing over darkness. Whether it's the lights of the menorah, the fire of the Yule log, or the light of Christ, it all shares the universal hope for peace and justice.

During this time of celebrating the light, enjoy the quiet of the Christmas morning. Best wishes to you and yours.

And no, my heart is NOT three sizes too small.

It's the Friday after Thanksgiving, and I am avoiding stores like the plague. I need to go to the grocery store, and make two other quick stops -- including a quick run into Staples to make some copies of my holiday newsletter. Mercifully, the cards are mostly DONE, and I plan to get those out by the middle of next week. Just some labels to run, and one more detail to iron out.

I do admit: there were a couple of BF deals that made me look more than once. It had me thinking just ever-so-slightly about shopping on Black Friday. But honestly, the deals weren't quite all that and a bag of chips. Had the offer said "FREE TO (NETTIEMAC)" then I might have considered it. Plus, I didn't really have the available cash on hand for it anyway. I am determined NOT to go into debt this Christmas -- and especially for something for myself. After Christmas sales, well..... it depends on the deal.

Christmas itself, I enjoy. What I dread most of all for the next few weeks is the Canned Holiday Spirit (TM) -- you know, that phony incessant cheeriness piped into all retail facilities. The drone of the Christmas music designed to make us open our wallets -- it merely inspires me to invest in some of those noise-cancelling headphones. The (ahem) dulcet tones of children screaming, "I want! I want! I want! Mamamamamamamama!" which just makes me want to run out screaming myself.

I hate manufactured holidays. Not saying that Christmas is manufactured -- don't get me wrong. I just hate this phony "Christmas season" -- it's all backward. They've turned the peaceful preparation of Advent into the frenzy of SpendNowHowCanYouPassThisUp, WhatAreYouSomeKindOfCommieHippieFreak, Don'tYouLoveYourLovedOnesEnoughTo... Oh, it just goes on and on. Not that I don't love my loved ones, and not that I don't want to get them something. But I am tired of the constant barrage that feeds the beast. I hate that parents feel pressured that if their children don't get the latest gadget or toy for Christmas, then they are "bad parents." Or that if I spend less than $1000 per person on my loved ones, then I'm a bad consumer.

So call me a Grinch or a Scrooge. I don't think it's my heart that's three sizes too small.......

They. Are. Morons. And must be stopped.

Dammitall, if both of the adult contemporary stations aren't in the middle of "Christmas Preview" weekends.

What's the deal with that? PREVIEWS?????? Who's the genius who thought that up?

Idiot 1: "Say, Bob........ I'm betting most people around here would love to hear this stuff we have back in my old market."
Idiot 2: "Really, Tim? What's that?'
Idiot 1: "Christmas music!"
Idiot 2: "I'm.......... not following you. You mean they have special music just for Christmas?"
Idiot 1: "That's right, Bob."
Idiot 2: "WOW!!! Now that's a refreshing concept. But let's make sure people are gonna like it. Let's do a 'preview' weekend....."
Idiot 1: "Capital idea there, Tim!"

Me = pissed x infinity.

Not that I regularly listen to these stations, but if you're scanning the dial, you can't help but come across them. This makes me so glad I keep my MP3 player converter in the car. The next car will have a satellite receiver put in, too.