This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.
Luke 2:12
On Christmas when I was a grade schooler, I’d often get up in the very early morning – maybe 3 or 4 a.m. – and in my pajamas would quietly slide down the stairs in the dark to sit on the living room floor in front of the tree. I’d gaze upon the wrapped gifts and the wooden creche built by Dad. Within the scene, surrounded by packages with bows and ribbons, Joseph, Mary and an angel hovered over a baby lying in straw in a manger.
The presence of the gifts placed by my parents, the Nativity Scene and the tree itself adorned with ornaments signaled to me that my expectations were once again about to be fulfilled: Mom and Dad had come through, Mary had delivered the wondrous baby, and our tree was ready once more, bursting with glistening trimmings, waiting for us to turn on her lights.
I’d wait then for my sisters to wake up and join me, one by one, as Mom arose to prepare breakfast; the time to open the gifts approached.
What is it about opening this particular holiday’s gifts? Since those mornings when tearing open a Christmas wrapping would reveal a Roy Rogers cowboy hat or baseball glove, to now when doing so might reveal a tasty bottle of Woodford Reserve Bourbon, unpacking presents fulfills a kind of hope: Dad cared enough to get me this toy … my son came through with one of my favorite spirits.
And more broadly, given our context of faith and the story of Jesus’ birth: the Lord had arrived yet again, renewing our hope and strengthening our trust in Divine guidance.
In our culture, gift-giving and hope-affirming occur within and beyond the Christian tradition. Movingly, for example, Hanukkah celebrates a time of light and hope emerging from darkness.
While not always associated with a particular faith, the holidays for many involve gifts and the celebration of family. There’s an expectation inherent in this period: sacred time has come again, affirming our bonds and confirming our hope that we are still loved.
In my journey, selecting holiday gifts has evolved in ways that sometimes make me wonder whether the mystery and anticipation are still there. For example, we seem to manage the process more consciously now to eliminate error and, as a side effect, can diminish the surprise. Rather than distribute informal Christmas wish lists, we often send each other links to the exact items we want, including, if it’s clothing or footwear, the desired size, brand, style, color and other details.
Or if buying for children, parents can direct others to the online sites where the desired airplanes, dolls, animals, games or books can be clicked on and purchased. There’s an efficiency in this approach. After all, moms and dads know what their kids already have and want.
But despite the technical efficiency of modern shopping, there are still plenty of ways to set the magical or spiritual stage for the exchange of gifts. There are classic movies, like It’s a Wonderful Life or White Christmas. More modern, sometimes animated, options abound. (I still find inspiration in Home Alone every year.)
Light displays that beautify, uplift and guide us along commercial and residential streets proliferate.
And I confess that I still wake up on Christmas morning early, alive with anticipation that Maureen and I will open each other’s presents and that later, kids and grandkids will come over for brunch and gift-giving.
Our faith creates an aura that carries through the day. We prepare for the morning by singing with the Ascension choir the night before, and then by celebrating Mass. There’s a creche under our tree. As the sun is just rising, I pray privately, day-break coffee in hand, thankful that I get to experience this special day for the 72nd time.
Hope is alive and affirmed through many traditions this holiday season. We unwrap it gift by gift.
