…the more I dislike christmas. I don’t mean Christmas itself–Advent longing, candle-lit Eves, and dark and starry holiness still take me back to a childhood when there was at least a semblance of hope, and joy, and peace. (Nostalgia never works for long, I know.) But I am more and more simply annoyed with the sort of shabbiness of it all: the stupid christmas muzak piped in to every mall and grocery store; the false and plastic smiles and greetings from clerks as they take your money; the simple emptiness of claiming that this or that is the “reason” for the season–family, love, or whatever other banal substitution for Christ we can make. (By the way, isn’t it great that Planned (Obsolescence of) Parenthood now offers gift certificates? As National Review put it: what an excellent way to celebrate the unplanned birth of Christ!)
It tires me out, and being a pastor can make it worse, since I have no time to soak up the preaching and the gifts of Christ. I need to learn to appreciate the time of meditation spent learning my sermons, but that will come slowly. In the meantime, I’ve got forced-cheery “tradition” attempting to take substance’s place, and it begins to wear after a while.
On the other hand, God the Son was still born, still lived, still died, and is still alive in the flesh (literally), and He still gives His own Body and Blood to replace my tired body and blood. I, too, will be raised from the dead one day. Then, whatever hints of holiness are scattered throughout our bastardization of the holy-days will find even their fulfillment. Come quickly, Lord Jesus!