Christmastime

'Tis the season. I went into a non-grocery store for the first time since Thanksgiving, needing more than just food. It was late and thankfully mostly non-crowded. As I was finishing the loop that brought me back to the front, I slowed down in the "seasonal" aisle. There was a cheap ceramic cookie jar. The scene? The nativity. You actually grab the angel (carrying the banner "Peace on Earth" and lift the roof off to access the treats inside.

It depressed me. Not my typical "Boo hoo, me so lonely" Christmas funk, but the glossly crass abuse of the Holy Incarnation for profit. And yet, by the time I had made my way home, I found myself thinking of the pretty gifts and nifty electronics out this time of year. "Maybe I should ask for movies, books, toys and games. There's nothing wrong with that, after all." I found myself wanting pretty things, and not using this time to reflect on the gifts already given, both earthly and divine.

American society depends on ever-increasing wants. If everyone suddenly became content with what they have, the market would die. We have the need to have, to consume, to increase our holdings thrust upon us from our childhood. The giving of gifts becomes a ritual, a time of expecting things from others.

It is a difficult experiment, asking people not to give me things. I don't want to look as disappointed as I might feel when everyone else is opening their new toys, and I get cards saying that $10 was donated to Habitat for Humanity for me. But I want to refocus on the things that are more important than me this season. And toys, as much as I enjoy them, and as much as my family enjoys giving them, get in the way. I want to enjoy the time with my family, to reflect on what the Son gave up to become the Christ, and to put others before myself, not expecting reciprocity, but to follow the example of one who gave so much for me.