Auditory Gifts

Christmas was blissfully free of large amounts of gift-giving this year, providing us with time to focus on the important activities of re-connecting with family that we frequently only see once or twice a year, and of just spending some relaxing down-time in front of classic Christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate and having fluid discussions about this and that (passionately avoiding the subject of politics wherever possible).

And, for the opportunity to do all of these things, I am thankful.

Nearly four years into the marriage, I’m just becoming well acclimated to Karen’s side of the family. I’ve had some hit-and-miss relationships with some members of the family on her side, for various reasons, and this Christmas I had some wonderful and stimulating conversations with some of them. I was very happy to have connected with them and to have experienced substantive interaction.

I couldn’t really decide why that had happened, however, until my father-in-law summarized it the best. He said that, often, we are far too interested in communicating ourselves to spend the time getting to know those to whom we are communicating. In my words, these individuals and I had always spent time talking at each other instead of to each other until this year.

For the first time in our marriage, I felt as though I truly took the time to listen to some of our family, and the result was that we found a great deal more common ground than I had ever anticipated. Part of this is that we have all progressed in our spiritual and life journeys since last we spoke, but a great deal of the reason is that we took the time to listen as well as speak for the first time.

Sure, we agree to disagree on some things. I’m very politically opposite most of Karen’s family, for example (hence the avoidance of that topic), but there’s so much more in common than not in common that I’ve discovered after taking the time to listen first and speak later.

Learning the obvious lesson from this made a wonderful Christmas gift.

Here’s to the upcoming adventures of 2011…and to hoping our flight is somewhat on time today.

Photo Copyright by Austin-Lee Barron. Used by permission. 

Slow and Snow-Filled Contemplations

It’s not getting finished.

All of the pre-Christmas gift-shipping and card-sending, that is.  Unexpected developments last week inhibited that. But, it’s okay. I didn’t even get all of the Christmas lights up in our apartment this year. But, that’s okay, too. I’m enjoying a relatively low-stress few days preceding this beautiful Christmas holiday, enjoying the last week of Advent, listening to Enya, and even finding myself thinking that the snow with the Christmas lights is…well, nice…in a nostalgic sort of way.

Now, for me to say that snow is nice might be indicative of me softening a bit in my (not-so) old age. Or, perhaps I’ve lived in the absence of significant snowfall for several years now, and am discovering what I thought least likely to be true: that I’m missing it. Or, perhaps I’m adapting mentally to an upcoming move that will be happening in a few months (couldn’t resist dropping that spoiler, but you’ll get no more from me until next year).

It’s okay that the material hustle and bustle won’t get finished. As much as I try to minimize it, it still seems to pervade this holy season in Western culture.  I don’t want to fixate on what isn’t important right now, because there’s so much that is important as we enter Christmas. The atmosphere set by the lights and trees and music and…well, yes, even the snow…is making me slow down, and remember that, as Julian of Norwich said, “…all manner of thing shall be well.” Despite personal difficulties, and perpetual war, and economic and social injustices, and any number of dangers that might befall us as move forward in our journeys, there is a Providential optimism that I see so pervasively in the Christmas season. The optimism that is brought about by the inaugural wish of what we celebrate, which was “…on earth peace, good will toward men.” I have all faith that this will, in fact, come to pass. And so, with that faith, I am not stressful, but optimistic, even if guardedly so.

And, with that faith, I wish you all a most blessed Christmas.

Photo is copyrighted by my friend and fellow-blogger Austin Lee Barron, and used by permission. Check out her work on Flickr! 

Hope Where You Wouldn’t Think

Karen and I are of the age, I suppose, at which we begin to lose grandparents on a relatively regular basis. That sounds callous, I know, but in all seriousness, we’ve buried three in three years. Most recently, Karen’s maternal grandfather moved beyond this realm. We knew it was approaching…while it happened a bit more quickly than we had expected, we were still expecting it. That, I think, makes it hurt a bit less.

Unexpected travel, comforting family, the occasionally rampant emotions that these events bring to a family, have all began to transpire between late Saturday and Tuesday of this week. This has become all too regular an occurrence of late, so much so that I’ve become a bit more emotionally detached from it than I prefer. Every year there seems to be one less family member than there was the previous year.

Ironically, or perhaps I should say miraculously, also on Karen’s side of the family, a new child is expected to arrive any time between now and Christmas. There’s something profound in this combination of events…something that I cannot even begin to get my head around as I try to type this out amidst the rush of preparations and arrangements and general chatter occurring around me. What I am able to recognize is a hope, because, even as one life as moved on, another is just beginning. So close to one another, so physically and emotionally near each other. An ending that isn’t truly an ending, a beginning that holds untold amounts of promise and hope of which we cannot even fathom.

As we’ve entered the third week of Advent, I’ve found it difficult to focus on what the season represents, because of emotional and time constraints. What I realize is that, in the very death and birth that are occurring in this brief period of time, we are witnessing first hand the essence of what we celebrate for these four weeks. An anticipation of a continuing life that flies in the face of death, a hope for the future, a trust in a providence beyond ourselves.

I’m seeing the thing we hope for transpire right in front of me this week. That leaves me…speechless.

Avarice. It’s the New Black.

Monday this week was…harsh. Harsh in the way that returning to the weekly routine after any holiday break is harsh. Who likes rising before 6:00 a.m. after sleeping in past 8:00 for several days?

My day was punctuated by random colleagues bragging about the amazing deals that they obtained during Black Friday. For my readers outside of the U.S., Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving that marks the traditional beginning of the Christmas shopping season. Retailers and malls (that landmark bastion of brainless American franchised conformity) open as early as midnight to admit shoppers who have been waiting in line, some camped out for days, to fight and push and lose any semblance of humanity in order to get the best price on this season’s hottest toy for little Johnny and best new gadget for dad, as well as a little something for themselves.

Invariably someone is hurt in the name of getting the deal, and invariably, somewhere in the country, an arrest is made. This year was no exception.

Then, they all return to work on Monday morning (unless they’ve been arrested) to brag about their spoils as though returning from a battlefield in which they have been victorious. Then, they get to go shopping again because it’s Cyber Monday, and that, at least, removes the threats and all-around lack of civility that occurred over the previous weekend.

I’ve ranted about this before, but, unpacking it, I think that there’s a theology to this. Recently, I saw a blogger refer to this holiday season as “Consumermas.” I couldn’t have summed it up more succinctly myself. The theology at work is that we’ve simply removed the original theological premise celebrated at Christmas and replaced it with what is worshipped by a consumer society: material possessions. Taylor discusses this as a hyper-individualized, crowd-sourced religion. The consumer is empowered by the ability to purchase things, to research and choose what best suits him or her. I think the natural theological premise (read: fallacy) that follows this is that material possessions are thus viewed to have a salvific effect.

Essentially, he who dies with the most toys wins.

So, the very thing that is worshipped, by definition, leaves a void, because it is constantly evolving, constantly shifting, never stable, always out of date and insufficient in months or weeks or days. Or hours. Consumermas is an excuse to throw up bright lights and indulge the greedy “I want…” voice in all of us, an apparently perfectly good reason to spiral ourselves further into debt in the name of propelling our economy forward and beating the winter blues.

Black Friday is adequately named, because I think the core motivation behind it is a very dark one. No matter how much we convince ourselves that our search for deals and bargains is for the good of the economy, or for the sake of giving good gifts, or just because you deserve something nice (and perhaps you do), it seems to always become a good enough reason to push and shove and threaten and treat others poorly.

It’s as if material possessions and economic stability were more important than the basic dignity of the human being next to you. Of course, let’s be honest: that isn’t a new trend.

When holiday wishes are passed around in December, they typically range from Christmas to Hannukah to Advent to winter solstice to the generic “Happy Holidays.” I propose that Consumermas be added to this list, because it’s just honest. Let the wish be according to what is being prioritized or worshipped.

And next year on Black Friday, I’ll be doing the same thing I did this year. Sleeping in.

Photo Attribution: I See Modern Britain 

A Modest Proposal

If I might have a moment of your time, permit me to make my case.

I. I caught my share of virtual grief from Facebook friends today. It was the “first snow” of the season in Virginia. Soon after waking, the white stuff began to dust the parking lot outside, and everyone just seemed so happy about it. I wasn’t. I dared to tweet my unhappiness. Thus, the grief I received. You’d think that, because I don’t like snow, I was un-American or something.

II. This leads me to the observation that one tends to enjoy whatever weather patterns or climate that they might have seen themselves as having been deprived of during childhood. Several of those friends who booed my virtual opinion are those who grew up in areas that saw little to no snow. Conversely, I was forced to deal with nasty North Eastern U.S. winters my entire life prior to 5 years ago. I moved south, in part, to escape snow. While there is obviously still some snow in Virginia, there is significantly less than I experienced during my childhood. If I might be blunt, however…any snow is too much, and if I never saw the stuff again I could die a happy man. I guess I should have moved further south.

III. Is there any worse feeling than being cold? I suppose I might concede that there could be some fleeting beauty in white stuff falling from the sky (usually lasting about 10-15 seconds before it  fades), but as soon as I stepped into the breezeway outside of our apartment today, the cold sliced through me and I wanted to retreat. Then followed the headache of negotiating traffic on wet streets, and being pelted by snow/rain/nastiness immediately upon stepping out of the vehicle, not to mention dragging soggy wet winter into the floorboard of the car with you when you get back in. Seriously, someone tell me what’s good about this? And don’t even get me started on how much longer it takes to do laundry in the winter!

IV. Snow is accompanied by dreary, grey skies, punctuated by bare tree limbs that scratch at the light-less canopy with their naked, tortured bodies (Did that sound nihlist? My bad). In all seriousness, I suffer from what was previously labeled in the psychological community as “seasonal affective disorder.” While the diagnosis technically does not exist in the current incarnation of the DSM-IV, it remains a very real event for me. Take away my sunlight and leave me trapped beneath perpetual dusk, and I get depressed quickly. This began occurring in college, and has grown progressively worse since. So, realize that my opinion comes through the lens that snowy weather really is not a pleasant emotional experience for me.

V. Disliking winter (I really have no use for the season at all) does not make me a “scrooge,” as I fully recognize that snow is not a pre-requisite for “getting into the Christmas spirit.” If anything, in fact, it probably hurts that process more than it helps it for me.

VI. Incidentally, I’m more into observing Advent than the materialistic mess we’ve morphed the holiday of Christmas into, anyway, but…that’s a post of its own.

VII. So, might I present a modest proposal? And not even nearly as bleak as other proposals of that identification have been. You see, I think there’s something to this whole “Christmas in July” concept. Why? Because there’s light in July. Besides, if my studies served me correctly, Christ’s birth likely didn’t happen in the winter, in any case. And light, my friends, is the source of much spiritual imagery in the Scriptures. Recognizing that light was such an important poetic symbol in religious writing, I find it ironic that we observe Christ’s birth at a time when sunlight experiences a very notable absence, and we feel forced to compensate by stringing electrical lights around our dwellings in a losing battle to offset the cold and grey appearance of death that we face outside as most of the greenery has fallen and the ground become hard (I know, I know…there I go being nihilist again). So, I say, let’s observe Christmas in the summer, and all find warm places to go for vacation in the winter. It makes more sense anyway that you would want to travel from somewhere cold to somewhere warm in December, as that would entail the sense of escape that a good vacation should have…instead of just moving from warmth to warmth. Let’s learn a lesson from birds, here, shall we? Migration just could be the answer to many of our ills. This way, everyone experiences more sunlight and its vitamin-D-produced happiness year ’round, instead of just bingeing and purging in our existent lifestyles. And that whole ridiculous mythology about an obese gift-giver finding his way down your chimney? Well, that can be conveniently re-written. Now, he can just leave things by your pool instead.

Besides, I’ve always thought palm trees had such a pleasant look with Christmas lights on them, don’t you? Replace the eggnog with little drinks with umbrellas and…well, now we’re onto something! Then, those of us who suffer from November to March would have such a great reprieve from the mess, from the weather delays for holiday travels (I sat in an airport for 7 hours on Thanksgiving day due to fog…how did you celebrate?), and an all-around more pleasant disposition with all of the sunlight we would enjoy.

Yes, I’m convinced. This whole “Christmas in the winter” tradition is just over-rated, and due for a change. Let all of us who have been called “Scrooge” unite and champion the Christmas-in-July cause! Our hearts aren’t two sizes too small…its just that our thermostat is set a few degrees higher! Down with tradition, retire the reindeer, and place Santa in a private jet that flies to different resorts. That suits the privileged version of Christmas better, anyway, and results in more profits for the beginning of the fiscal year…just starts things off right, right? More sunlight, more money, more distraction from the holiday’s true meaning of Life, love, forgiveness, and family…this plan should go over big.

A perfectly good alternative to having to deal with the difficulties some of us face during winter? That’s for the reader to decide.

So, permit me to wish you Feliz Navidad. Especially so if we could all just be warm and dry.