The “True” Christmas Experience!Jan 09, 2007

Peggy L. Elliott

It’s after midnight on Christmas morning.  Santa’s still at work - the stifled utterances of pain, followed by the muted cussing, indicating he’s possibly having some problems fitting Joint A into Joint B, snaking through C, D and F - Where did E go?!

The fudge has morphed into rock and will be fashioned into “Chocolate Hard Christmas Candy” when you can finally get the hammer away from “Santa.” You know in your heart of hearts, Edvard Munch’s, “The Silent Scream,” was a self-portrait crafted on a late Christmas Eve night.

Every year it comes to this, a madness of dread, exhaustion and all the work, all the planning, all the shopping, cooking, wrapping, cooking, shopping, spending, spending, spending, driving you to the front steps of the asylum.  It’s only a matter of time before you crawl up those steps and hear the crash of the door locking behind you.  And then, at long last, you will have found, following the lobotomy, what we have all knocked ourselves out to obtain:  A peaceful Christmas!

After all, this is the objective for which we all strive - “Peace on Earth; Good Will towards Men!” Yet year after year, despite our best intentions, we end up pushing ourselves through all the stress, the frenzy of expectations, our Christmas nothing like it was meant to be, nowhere near the peaceful celebration of the joyous birth that accompanied the first “real” Christmas.

Let’s take a look at this “real” Christmas for just a moment, shall we?

Imagine, if you can, being nine months pregnant - and your future husband pretty ticked off with your “virgin birth” claim - so things are a bit rocky on the home front.

If this isn’t bad enough, turns out you’re going to have to travel out-of-town, where you know no one, because some crazy king has decided to count everyone and insists everyone return to their hometowns in order to do so.  Why?  Who knows?  Kings don’t have to explain.

So off you go, took three burly guys to get you up on that donkey - what are you going to do along the way?  You hit the privy every fifteen minutes now, it seems!  Joe’s going on and on about this or that family member, the great Inn you’ll be staying in, seems to be looking forward to this whole thing.

Well, why not?  He’s not the one in complete and total misery!  And the bumpy gait of the little donkey has you black and blue, sore all over, and your muscles are screaming, cramping and tying you in knots.

Except it’s not just the ride on the donkey, now, is it?  That baby is on its way.  Oh, God.  Hurry up, Joe!

There’s only so fast you two can haul, though, with Joe’s muted cussing, a bad situation now only made worse - and he just knew this was going to happen!

Well, sorry, but it wasn’t like you chose this moment to have this baby, either.  And maybe he could be a little nicer about the whole thing, even though you know why he is a lot put out.  You know he’s just waiting to see what the “Son of God” looks like - and He’d better have wings and a halo!

Finally - Bethlehem!  Oh, brother, it’s nothing like Joe said.  The place is small and filled to the brink with people.  The Inn they pull up to is dark and smoky, but, hey, right now all you want is a bed and a midwife!  Get outta my way!  This baby’s coming!

WHAT?  There’s no ROOM?!  But Joe promised!  He’d said it was a great place, lots of room, great food, the staff one of the best and his third cousin’s twelfth daughter worked there, so they would have no problem getting really good service.  And now this?

Oh, this is too, too much!  Labor’s really set in now and you can’t stay on the blasted donkey another second.  You send Joe back inside - explain the situation, we’ve got to get a room and we’ve got to have it now!

You can tell from the look on his face that Joe’s news isn’t going to make you happy.  Oh, yeah, you’re just thrilled to death to have a wonderful, warm, dry MANGER - not even big enough to qualify as a “barn” - in which to deliver this baby.  And as Joe goes on and on about the advantages of this venue, all you can think is bugs, germs, dirt, dirt, dirt - and you know the kind of “dirt” it was going to be, too.

Soon you were beyond caring.  After all, a virgin giving birth is, how to put this, not as “well prepared” for passing a baby as are the mothers who found themselves in this situation through the regular channels.  The blinding pain erased all other concerns, even though the poor animals must have been scared to death with all the screaming, crying and carrying on that took place during pre-Lamaze natural childbirth.

Finally, Jesus is born and, as all mothers know, the miracle of bringing this new life into the world far outweighs the horrors of delivery.  All babies are precious, of course, but Jesus was just the most gorgeous newborn anyone had ever seen and even Joe was won over.  The stepdad pledged devotion to his new son, a pledge he maintained through his life.

You were beyond exhaustion, after all that travel, the labor and delivery.  And it came as no huge surprise this “room” Joe had drummed up contained nothing in the way of luxurious appointments - like beds, for instance - and the cows kept knocking over the little trough Joe had dug up, filled with straw and in which they’d laid the baby.

Then there was that star shining so blindingly bright you couldn’t sleep even if you did have a bed.  What on earth was that all about, anyway?  What a mess this had turned out to be!

Soon the crowds began to gather, like no one had ever seen a newborn baby before, or something?  You were getting frantic, trying to keep all these people away from the poor little guy.  After all, the situation was bad enough as it was, what with all these animals around.  Goodness knows what diseases these people could be harboring!

But Joe was determined, and, if he was to raise the baby as his own son, then she’d best not be contradicting him right off the bat.  And there were lots of them coming not just to gawk, but bringing gifts, too.  They could certainly use the gifts, especially those they could sell or trade.

So, there you were.  Sore, exhausted, surrounded by noisy animals, all sorts of strange people and, bearing gifts or not, you just wanted them all to go away and leave you in peace.  After all, you’re a new mother and you know nothing about taking care of this baby of yours.  Thank God Joe seems quite smitten with him, as your new family would depend on his protection and care.

Just when it seemed like things were settling down, came the news that the king, always on the brink anyway, had finally crossed over and gone totally berserk.  Some mad edict that all the male babies three and under were to be put to death!  Whoa, we’re outta here!  Guess Joe was right about accepting all those gifts - certainly needed something to fall back on.

There’s something to be said for having such few belongings, for you can be packed up and ready to move in no time flat.  Back up on the donkey, the baby wrapped in your arms, Joe leading the way, you were off yet again.  Joe had said something about being able to find some work in Egypt and they’d be safe there, too.

You didn’t care where they went at that point.  It was rush, rush, rush - all the stress, the fear, not being ready, wishing it could be a quiet, peaceful family time so you and Joe could enjoy being new parents together.

Off into one of the most famous events of history you rode, this little family of yours, whose personal predicament would spark the imagination and admiration of millions of people to follow down through the ages.

Today we have this idea that Christmas should be a peaceful experience.  A quiet time of contemplation, inspiration and devotion which we share with our own loved ones, following in the footsteps of the Holy Family.

Yet it is in this flurry of stress, worry, disappointment and fatigue that we most closely share the situation of this little family we honor this time every year.  When plans go awry, gifts go astray, disappointment, though shrouded, is still evident, the airport is socked in by a blizzard, the hotels are full up and travelers, on their way home for Christmas, have no place to sleep for the night, this is the true “Spirit of Christmas.”

We find it in our determination to persevere, the devotion we have for each other, which keeps us going on and on and on even when nothing’s going right, and it’s late, you’re tired, you’re sore and there’s no room at the inn.

For more than any time in the story of Jesus’ life, this worship of his birth is the celebration of our humanity.  He has yet to be the great teacher, to follow his God-chosen course to immortality.

On this day we recall a family in desperate need, up against innumerable barriers, making mistakes, making do with what they have out of necessity.  These are the fathers, mothers and babies we all know, who try to give the best of ourselves, who love and care, protect and worship.

Christmas is not about peace and quiet, but the noisy, busy-ness of being human and all the magical joys on earth with which we are rewarded.  If the fudge is burned, the bicycle wheel on crooked, the dress you saved up for and thought would be so gorgeous on your daughter was not as warmly received as you’d hoped, well, just think what you’d do with frankincense and myrhh? 

You’re busy?  You’re stressed out?  Well, then, you are obviously filled with the true spirit of Christmas!

Happy Holidays!