Are we talking about CHRISTMAS?

Our parol-tree motif this year

A slew of sermons, books, and articles about Christmas has been written, and is still being written. I had not intended to write one more dissertation on why the world celebrates it.

But I am bothered by casual comments from the man-on-the-street and even high-profile media men. Although said nonchalantly, with probably no guile or malice, they are nevertheless disturbing. I dread that one day, or already, others who hear them are subtly influenced and before long, these comments become “truths. 

“Christmas is for children.”

“I don’t feel the Christmas spirit.”

“So many calamities – what a terrible Christmas!”

“No bonus this year, it’s going to be a sad Christmas.”

“My son can’t come home, our Christmas won’t be complete.”

“Christmas is so expensive.”

“Let’s go caroling this Christmas and raise funds for our project.”

“The true meaning of Christmas is giving.”

Are we talking about Christmas? Let me rephrase that. Is it really Christmas we’re talking about?

As a little girl, and now as an adult, the most often memorized Bible verse I’d hear is John 3:16, “ For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (KJV) 

This begun, and was made true, on that first Christmas over two thousand years ago. This is the essence of my faith, and of those who believe in this truth. This is Christmas.

It is not only for children—it is also for you, for me, the aged and the aging.

The Christmas spirit isn’t felt, it is lived by God’s children. It is in our hearts all our breathing, waking moments.  

Doom sans boon, affliction sans fortune, calamity sans windfall have nothing to do with the substance of Christmas—surely, not from wonderful news to terrible views. 

Bonus and 13^th month pay do not a Christmas make. With or without them, Christmas is.

Together with or apart from the members of our family, we can celebrate Christmas. Nothing or no one makes it incomplete. 

Christmas was not expensive, just a joyous occasion for mankind. It happened in a lowly manger, first visited by insignificant shepherds, with no blinking lights, decorated trees, sumptuous foods, shopping sprees, greeting cards, Santa Claus, or family reunions. 

Caroling is fairly recent, beginning only in the 12^th century. Before then, no carolers went around—not in Jesus’ time—asking for money to build a church or finance a project for the poor.

The true meaning of Christmas is not being generous to one and all, giving gifts to as many people as we can. It is the one glorious giving of a Savior to man by God. 

Today, when modern man says “Christmas,” is he talking about Christmas or the occasion redefined by marketers and mass media? Can he even see the difference? 

My family and I have been celebrating Christmas with what we call “turkey dinner.” Once long ago, when my three sons were babies, my brother-in-law Aboy+ gifted us with a live turkey. He said it would make a nice Christmas dinner. And how, it did! He had since passed on, but we have made a tradition out of painstakingly preparing the bird, now bought from the supermarket.

Last year's turkey

This year's bird is still being prepared by youngest son JR in time for 12 midnight

It makes for a good family bonding—choosing the right meat weight, buying the ingredients for stuffing, searching for the side dishes and beverages, and feasting on it around a table decked in red and green.

It felt good, great, to have one activity to keep the family together at least once a year. But one day too soon, one son got married, left for abroad, and our Christmas celebration wasn’t as it always was. I ached for those years when we were complete, all together, for our turkey dinner. “A tear fell,” the old song whined.

Then God’s merciful grace, perfectly timed, opened my eyes to see the difference—a broken tradition is not a broken Christmas. The cast of characters in a different play on a new stage define only what we feel about ourselves, not about Christmas. 

I saw future scenarios or tableaus in my mind: only my husband and I, stooped and wrinkled, not knowing whether the undernourished turkey before us is over or undercooked… a big group—dominated by grandchildren of varying ages—feasting noisily (some whining and some bawling) on the plumpest, biggest turkey… no turkey at all, just a simple fare of pinakbet, because importation has been banned due to a turkey flu epidemic… whatever, whenever, however, whoever. The sound of laughter slowly crept from the back of my throat.  

When or should my eyesight blur again, I pray that God’s grace may always come in time to make me see clearly what Christmas is all about: the gift of a begotten Son born of God’s great love for me. May this same amazing grace be received by you and your family this Christmas. 

Let’s celebrate the coming of our King!