The Church has traded Her Advent purples for her Christmas scarlets and crimsons and rosy reds.
The Christmas Creche is awaiting that precious moment when Christmas has truly come, and the image of the newborn King can be placed once again, wrapped in swaddling clothes, in a manger.
The sky is wearing its’ most winter festive glow.
The presents are wrapped and snuggly under the tree, awaiting little Sophia bear paws to unveil the magic of seeing Christmas through a child’s eyes.
The Christmas light displays are reaching Clark W. Griswald levels of insanity.
The libations for the Christmas feast are settled in for a brief winter’s nap, before they must preform their most honored role of being the food we sup in honor of Christ’s birth. The Christmas cookie dough is chilled and waiting to be shaped into stars and trees and silver bells to be later transformed by eager and semi-artistic Dehans ready to spread some rainbow hued sugary bliss over some more sugary buttery bliss to make something so deliciously flavored with tradition.
The hearth is trimmed. The table is not set, but it will be. All systems are go.
Oh, it is here. the long awaited Eve of the anniversary when our soul finally felt its’ worth in Heaven’s eyes. Have you stopped and payed attention to the lyrics of those Christmas hymns and carols we have known since infancy? Watch out if you do-they are liable to bring instant tears to a sensitive soul. Take Hark the Herald Angel’s Sing-”God and sinners reconciled. Joyful all ye nations rise-join the TRIUMPH of the skies-with angelic hosts proclaim-Christ is born! in Bethlehem.” God and sinners reconciled. That’s no small matter, peeps. That is what happened because Jesus came-maybe that sounds like a big duh, but honestly, I had not really put it into those terms in my reflection on Christ’s birth until a couple of years ago at Christmas Mass while we were singing that song. I had gotten so used to Christmas and I knew full well “the true meaning” of it. If by that you mean I knew it was to celebrate the birth of Christ. But what that birth really meant for me truly and really-and what it means for every soul, truly and really-I had not come to grips with. I had not really felt the desperate need for a Savior and consequently the gratitude for the celebration of Christmas until the latter years of my childhood (by that I mean my college years-still considered part of my childhood).
All of the nations. All of them should be rising in praise to Him who left Heaven to be with us. It is triumph for every single soul that has ever existed and will ever exist. We should be joining those same Angels that gave the praise humans knew not how to give on that perfect night. The birth of our Savior is enormous and incomprehensibly wonderful. It should be boggling our minds all of the time. God came to earth and made His dwelling among us. We are no longer doomed to suffer the consequences of our sin for eternity. We are Rescued! We are Free! Joy to the World! The Lord is Come! Let earth receive her King! Let every heart prepare Him room. Let Heaven and Nature sing!
I pray you are bursting at the seems with the Joy of the Word becoming flesh and making His dwelling among us. That is what I hope for myself and for all of you this Christmas. Uncontainable, Incomprehensible, Unshakeable, Joy.
I leave you with my favorite poem. It contains the mystery of our faith and ties Christ’s Birth, Death and Resurrection together so beautifully--reminding us even in the Light and Joy of Christmas what our Rescuing cost. What price was paid for our souls. And what is always sure to come after death if we submit ourselves fully to the will of the Father: Resurrection. Life eternal.
A stable-lamp is lighted
Whose glow shall wake the sky;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
And straw like gold shall shine;
A barn shall harbor heaven,
A stall become a shrine.
This child through David’s city
Shall ride in triumph by;
The palm shall strew its branches,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
Though heavy, dull, and dumb,
And lie within the roadway
To pave His kingdom come.
Yet He shall be forsaken,
And yielded up to die;
The sky shall groan and darken,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
For stony hearts of men:
God’s blood upon the spearhead,
God’s love refused again.
But now, as at the ending,
The low is lifted high;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
In praises of the child
By whose descent among us
The worlds are reconciled.
-- Richard Wilbur
A Holy, Happy, Joy-filled, dripping-in-Light and Sparkles and Merriment kind of Christmas to you and your kin.
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