It is difficult to trust someone who despises Christmas. Beyond the central point, the fact of the birth of God, everything at this time of the year is covered with a divine grace that makes wonders happen through the smallest traditions. Whoever is not capable of preserving the tiny Christmas traditions that our elders once bequeathed to us, will never be able to take up the defense of any greater cause.
Dusting off the boxes of the nativity scene. Turning on the tree lights. Making glitter stars with the children. Writing letters to the Three Wise Men. Stacking the guests’ coats on Christmas Eve. Ironing the red tablecloth for another year. Saying a family prayer. Handing out tambourines to the kids. Inventing makeshift side tables so that everyone can be seated. Arriving on time for Midnight Mass. Cutting up the nougat and placing it gracefully on the trays. Listening to Grandpa’s stories that we already know by heart. Hugging without haste. Smiling without fear. Meeting again with the hearts of those who are always close to us.
Detecting the aroma of Christmas food from the landing. Sitting in the dark to watch What A Wonderful Life. Toasting with friends just before dinner. Taking a very long nap. Counting grapes several times. Lifting a baby over your head as King Gaspar’s carriage passes by. Going over the lottery numbers. Making a list of resolutions for the New Year. Carefully kissing the foot of the Baby Jesus.
Singing Christmas carols with the family. Snacking at the orejones fountain in the early morning. Getting dressed up and wearing a new scarf. Waking up with confetti in your pajamas. Putting up Christmas cards in the living room. Calling distant family right after the grapes. Petitioning the good Lord for a miracle. Getting excited about yesterday’s family photos. Laughing at the messages that arrive at dinnertime. We shall not understand Christmas unless we defend, as we would a homeland, every little ritual of our Christmas days.
They might seem like minor details, family things, small traditions or routines—some more reasonable than others, some more important than others. In these days when ritual is scorned, it is more necessary than ever to safeguard everything that was once established by custom in our home, everything that identifies and strengthens the peculiarity of each family, everything that gives us a sense of belonging: parents, children, siblings, friends, neighbors, home, our street, our bars, our way of cooking, our particular way of singing Christmas carols, and our sources of snacks.
“Rites are symbolic actions,” writes the South Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han in The Disappearance of Rituals, “they transmit and represent those values and orders that hold a community together. They generate a community without communication, whereas what prevails today is communication without community.” Each small Christmas ritual is an emotional conquest for the elders, a bulwark of family stability, and a life lesson for the youngest, who tomorrow will carry on their backs the responsibility of making their own posterity see that the smallest ritual is of incalculable value. “Being a form of recognition,” adds Han, “to perceive the symbolic is to perceive the everlasting. In this way the world is freed from contingency and given permanence. The world suffers today from a chronic shortage of the symbolic.”
Everything today is threatened by the uniform anarchy of postmodernity. “When respect for tradition perishes,” as Gómez Dávila warned us, “society, in its incessant eagerness to renew itself, frantically consumes itself.” So there is nothing to give in to, except for those moments when life places us before the obligation to institutionalize what will also be ours from now on: the new home, the children, becoming grandparents, staying alone this Christmas, or making hand in hand with the grandchildren our first Bethlehem, molding each figure, bespattering the children’s aprons with clay.
“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and the love of relatives,” wrote Laura Ingalls, “and we are better throughout the year because, in spirit, we become children again at Christmas.” So, never stop sending the letter to the Three Kings. Never give up on the little Bethlehem, even if only you and the Christ Child are going to see it. Don’t let January 6th dawn without a surprise package. Don’t forget to sing the Adeste fideles on Christmas Eve. Don’t forget to wish Merry Christmas to the neighbor who never says hello. Don’t forget to take something to the parish for the poor. Don’t even think of taking your Christmas cynicism for a walk in front of a child’s shining eyes.
Do not despise as pagan those who believe in the magic of Christmas. Perhaps God will magically knock on their door tonight. Niall Gooch has written on more than one occasion about the excesses of Christmas performances and the emergence of traditions far removed from the biblical account. He believes that they form something like “the residual memory of faith,” even in the most de-Christianized societies, and “that is better than nothing; and it is a useful foundation on which to build.” As Gooch concludes, “the world is full of meaning. Symbols, metaphors and allusions add to the richness of faith. Poems, songs and plays engage people in faith with all their imagination, with all their heart and soul, if you will, as well as their mind. Not everyone can be a theologian. Everyone can get into a great story.”
Christian customs coexist with others that emanate from them, from the festive and family atmosphere of these last days of the year. Rather than detracting from the meaning of Christmas, they enrich it. So don’t stop laughing along to the seasonal television humor. Don’t conclude the year without listening to old vinyl records on New Year’s Eve. Don’t go to bed early on Christmas Eve. Don’t stop telling the stories of those who are no longer around the table, even if sometimes it seems that no one wants to hear them. Don’t forget the postcards, the lottery, or the bottles of wine you used to send on these dates. Don’t let frivolity prevent you from being a child every Christmas. Remember that every little family Christmas ritual is one more way to adore the Child God.
And, in short, never forget the words of that frightened and repentant Scrooge: “I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year round.”
A Defense of the Small Christmas Ritual
Photo by Xulong Liu on Unsplash
It is difficult to trust someone who despises Christmas. Beyond the central point, the fact of the birth of God, everything at this time of the year is covered with a divine grace that makes wonders happen through the smallest traditions. Whoever is not capable of preserving the tiny Christmas traditions that our elders once bequeathed to us, will never be able to take up the defense of any greater cause.
Dusting off the boxes of the nativity scene. Turning on the tree lights. Making glitter stars with the children. Writing letters to the Three Wise Men. Stacking the guests’ coats on Christmas Eve. Ironing the red tablecloth for another year. Saying a family prayer. Handing out tambourines to the kids. Inventing makeshift side tables so that everyone can be seated. Arriving on time for Midnight Mass. Cutting up the nougat and placing it gracefully on the trays. Listening to Grandpa’s stories that we already know by heart. Hugging without haste. Smiling without fear. Meeting again with the hearts of those who are always close to us.
Detecting the aroma of Christmas food from the landing. Sitting in the dark to watch What A Wonderful Life. Toasting with friends just before dinner. Taking a very long nap. Counting grapes several times. Lifting a baby over your head as King Gaspar’s carriage passes by. Going over the lottery numbers. Making a list of resolutions for the New Year. Carefully kissing the foot of the Baby Jesus.
Singing Christmas carols with the family. Snacking at the orejones fountain in the early morning. Getting dressed up and wearing a new scarf. Waking up with confetti in your pajamas. Putting up Christmas cards in the living room. Calling distant family right after the grapes. Petitioning the good Lord for a miracle. Getting excited about yesterday’s family photos. Laughing at the messages that arrive at dinnertime. We shall not understand Christmas unless we defend, as we would a homeland, every little ritual of our Christmas days.
They might seem like minor details, family things, small traditions or routines—some more reasonable than others, some more important than others. In these days when ritual is scorned, it is more necessary than ever to safeguard everything that was once established by custom in our home, everything that identifies and strengthens the peculiarity of each family, everything that gives us a sense of belonging: parents, children, siblings, friends, neighbors, home, our street, our bars, our way of cooking, our particular way of singing Christmas carols, and our sources of snacks.
“Rites are symbolic actions,” writes the South Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han in The Disappearance of Rituals, “they transmit and represent those values and orders that hold a community together. They generate a community without communication, whereas what prevails today is communication without community.” Each small Christmas ritual is an emotional conquest for the elders, a bulwark of family stability, and a life lesson for the youngest, who tomorrow will carry on their backs the responsibility of making their own posterity see that the smallest ritual is of incalculable value. “Being a form of recognition,” adds Han, “to perceive the symbolic is to perceive the everlasting. In this way the world is freed from contingency and given permanence. The world suffers today from a chronic shortage of the symbolic.”
Everything today is threatened by the uniform anarchy of postmodernity. “When respect for tradition perishes,” as Gómez Dávila warned us, “society, in its incessant eagerness to renew itself, frantically consumes itself.” So there is nothing to give in to, except for those moments when life places us before the obligation to institutionalize what will also be ours from now on: the new home, the children, becoming grandparents, staying alone this Christmas, or making hand in hand with the grandchildren our first Bethlehem, molding each figure, bespattering the children’s aprons with clay.
“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and the love of relatives,” wrote Laura Ingalls, “and we are better throughout the year because, in spirit, we become children again at Christmas.” So, never stop sending the letter to the Three Kings. Never give up on the little Bethlehem, even if only you and the Christ Child are going to see it. Don’t let January 6th dawn without a surprise package. Don’t forget to sing the Adeste fideles on Christmas Eve. Don’t forget to wish Merry Christmas to the neighbor who never says hello. Don’t forget to take something to the parish for the poor. Don’t even think of taking your Christmas cynicism for a walk in front of a child’s shining eyes.
Do not despise as pagan those who believe in the magic of Christmas. Perhaps God will magically knock on their door tonight. Niall Gooch has written on more than one occasion about the excesses of Christmas performances and the emergence of traditions far removed from the biblical account. He believes that they form something like “the residual memory of faith,” even in the most de-Christianized societies, and “that is better than nothing; and it is a useful foundation on which to build.” As Gooch concludes, “the world is full of meaning. Symbols, metaphors and allusions add to the richness of faith. Poems, songs and plays engage people in faith with all their imagination, with all their heart and soul, if you will, as well as their mind. Not everyone can be a theologian. Everyone can get into a great story.”
Christian customs coexist with others that emanate from them, from the festive and family atmosphere of these last days of the year. Rather than detracting from the meaning of Christmas, they enrich it. So don’t stop laughing along to the seasonal television humor. Don’t conclude the year without listening to old vinyl records on New Year’s Eve. Don’t go to bed early on Christmas Eve. Don’t stop telling the stories of those who are no longer around the table, even if sometimes it seems that no one wants to hear them. Don’t forget the postcards, the lottery, or the bottles of wine you used to send on these dates. Don’t let frivolity prevent you from being a child every Christmas. Remember that every little family Christmas ritual is one more way to adore the Child God.
And, in short, never forget the words of that frightened and repentant Scrooge: “I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year round.”
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