"Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone."
~Charles M. Schultz
As an Agnostic Unitarian Universalist, I struggle a bit with Christmas: A virgin birth; a guy in a red suit jetting all over the world in a flying sled; out of control consumerism that starts the day after Halloween; nativity scenes next to giant inflatable snowmen on people's front lawns; cheese balls and fruit cake. If you're not a Christian, what does it all mean?
For years I wrestled with this, especially when my kids were little. What should I tell them we were celebrating when we decorated our Christmas tree and sang Silent Night? I found some wisdom in the words of religious educator, Sofia Lyon Fahs who wrote a poem entitled "For So the Children Come, " which includes this message about what is holy.
Yet each night a child is born is a holy night.
Fathers and mothers—sitting beside their children's cribs—
feel glory in the sight of a new life beginning.
They ask, "Where and how will this new life end?
Or will it ever end?"
Each night a child is born is a holy night—
A time for singing,
A time for wondering,
A time for worshipping.
I also appreciated the pagan connections between Christmas and the Winter Solstice, and the way all of the winter holidays -- Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Diwali, Solstice -- celebrate light out of darkness, hope and love. Some years we hung pine cone bird feeders in trees on the solstice, or shared hot cider and sunburst cookies on the beach with friends as the sun sank below the horizon on the shortest day.
But, no matter how much I loved all of the depth these new traditions added to an old, familiar holiday, the truth is, my family celebrates Christmas primarily because it is part of our cultural heritage, a passing along of generations of family traditions. And it turns out that's enough. So, I've stopped searching for one cohesive narrative to glue this Christian and Pagan holiday together. Instead, I simply try to practice our Christmas traditions with love and presence. And I wait to see what gifts might arise unbidden each year.
In that spirit, I'd like to share a family Christmas story I like to call,
Grace and the Christmas Fish
When my daughter Frances was nine years old, she and her brother sat down at the kitchen table to write letters to Santa Claus. This was not something we did every year, but Frances was beginning to question the whole Santa operation. She began pondering questions like, how does Santa manage to cover the entire globe in a single night, and why do the presents look like they come from Toys R Us if the elves are making them? I would reply with something like, well honey, Christmas is all about magic, and then feel twinges of guilt for lying to this smart, inquisitive child. Or I might throw the whole inquiry back at her by asking, what do YOU think? And then quickly turn up the Christmas music and offer her another cookie.
In any case, I wasn't ready to reveal Santa's true identity yet -- Miles was only six after all -- so the kids proceeded to jot down a little note to Santa about what they would like for Christmas.
Among other things, Frances asked for a Beta fish and some chocolate. We addressed the envelope to Santa Claus at the North Pole, put the letter in the mailbox and went about our holiday decorating, baking, and nightly reading of Christmas stories. Frances continued to pose questions about Santa's existence. And I artfully evaded direct answers. Just one more year, I hoped. As Katrina Kenison writes in her book, Mitten Strings For God, "A touch of magic can reawaken the childlike spirit in all of us..." I wanted Santa to hang around awhile longer, for the kids sure. But also for me.
One afternoon, a little more than a week after the letters to Santa were mailed, the postman knocked on our front door. He handed me a small package addressed to Frances. The return address said, The North Pole. What could THIS be? The postmark was from a town about 100 miles north of us, but there was no name and I couldn't think of who might have sent it. With nervous anticipation, I called Frances downstairs. You got a package from Santa, I said. She could tell the surprise and wonder in my voice were genuine. Inside the package was a xeroxed copy of her letter to Santa and a small wrapped gift. Go ahead, I said. -- I was as wide eyed as she was! -- Open it. She carefully tore the paper as Miles and I watched. Inside were several squares of Ghirardelli chocolate, a small fish ornament to hang on the tree, and a gift card to Petco. Wow, I said. That's amazing! Santa sent you an early present! That small package of kindness was the highlight of Christmas for us that year. We told everyone we knew about Santa's mysterious gift.
To this day, we have no idea who that gift was from. I like to imagine an elderly woman with white hair, wearing a red and green Christmas sweater and sensible shoes. I've named her Grace. I picture plucking Frances's letter out of a mailbag full of letters to Santa. I can see Grace shopping for the chocolates, wondering if Frances would prefer milk or dark chocolate. I imagine her puzzling over how to wrap a Beta fish while sipping a cup of tea, and being pleased with herself for coming up with such a clever solution. (We exchanged the Petco gift card for a red Beta fish Frances named Harry Wotter.) And even though I had to quickly scramble for an explanation for why Frances got an early present and Miles didn't (I think I said something about a random drawing, sort of like the drawing for the bell from Santa's Sleigh in the popular story, The Polar Express), it was worth it. Grace's small act of kindness gave us another year of magic.
***
Christmas means many things to many people. But, no matter what your beliefs, there is always room for kindness, enchantment, and the excitement of anticipation. Like Winnie the Pooh said about eating honey, “Well, what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.”
Christmas is sparkly and bright, especially on the surface. When you unwrap this big, unwieldy holiday though, sometimes you find you didn't get what you asked for at all. It might be too big or too small, too gaudy or dull. Broken maybe, filled with past pain and disappointment, people behaving badly. Then again, sometimes Christmas surprises you with small acts of kindness that can thaw even the coldest spirit.
And while you never know what you're gonna receive, you can always choose to be the giver of kindness. You too can delight a child with a Beta fish or make someone's day with a surprise visit. And so I'm offering this simple phrase for all you kids from one to ninety two: Show up for the holidays. Invite Grace and kindness into your heart. Be present for the moment before the honey AND the moment it drips onto your tongue. And if you end up covered in a sticky mess this year, be present for that too. Notice who shows up to help you clean up. There are gifts to be found in all of it. I dare you not to find one.
(Adapted from a Reflection for the Unitarian Society of santa Barbara, December 21,2014)
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