Christmas 2023: It Really Is the Thought That Counts

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Jebidiah stared at the scene before him. A collection of the apparitions he’d gathered over the years hovered around Mrs. Claus as she told stories of the glories of Christmases long, long ago…

Oh great, he thought, now I’ve got that song stuck in my head. He watched for a few more minutes, and then one of his apparitions turned back into an elf. Then another, then another. Time to put a stop to this.

“Enough with your stories!” he said. “None of this matters anymore.”

“Oh, but it does, dear. Even more than ever. Your friends here all have forgotten what Christmas is all about. They let their disappointments over getting things they didn’t want to hide the true spirit of giving. I’m just reminding them.

“Oh, it’s nice when we get the things we desire: toy trucks, bicycles, and all the other things a child might want. But over time, those gifts will no longer be with us, yet the memories of sharing those moments with those we love will.

“It is not the gift, but the act of giving that is the true spirit of Christmas.”

Mrs. Claus stood up and walked to face Jebidiah. “You’ve forgotten that as well. So let me remind you of the true spirit of Christmas.” She waved her hands, and scenes from around the world flashed on the walls. The news about the Heart of Darkness stealing all the Christmas presents was on everyone’s mind, but it didn’t matter.

Carolers were singing, people were replacing decorations, and family and friends were gathering, all as if nothing had changed.

Jebidiah stared in disbelief. “What are they celebrating? They’ll have no presents on Christmas.”

Mrs. Claus smiled. “And that’s where you’re wrong. Christmas will come, and families and friends will make the most of it.”

“But how can they? I have all the things they want.”

“You have all the things but you don’t have the spirit that makes it all worthwhile. Remember, whatever happens this year, Christmas will always be with us because of this one truth. Something that we all must remember.

“Those who celebrate Christmas best are those who celebrate it in the simplest ways. Gathering with friends and family to share the memories of those no longer with us and those yet to come. It is all about hope, love, and thankfulness for the people in our lives. Everything else is just decorations.”

For a moment, Jane and Levi thought they saw a tear fall from Jebidiah’s eye, but it was quickly replaced by a face full of rage.

“So none of this matters? No one cares about all these presents sitting right there? We’ll see about that.” He spun on his heels to face the remaining apparitions. “Take them back to the dungeon and take all those traitors with them. If they want to return to being elves, let them pay the price for their disloyalty.”

Mrs. Claus stood defiant against the force of the apparitions. “What are you going to do, Jebidiah?”

The grin that came across his face, one amplifying his anger and rage, was something they would never forget.

“I’m gonna take all these presents, drag them to the top of this hill, and have the biggest bonfire the world has ever seen. Then we’ll see how much the Spirit of Christmas matters to the world, won’t we?”

“No,” Jane yelled, breaking away and charging at Jebidiah. Levi took the cue and charged right along with her. Their sudden attack caught him off-guard, but he recovered quickly. Trapping them with his magic, he tossed them into the sleigh with all the presents.

“Fine, you want a front seat to the show? You got it. You’ll be so close you’ll feel the burn. Bring her too,” he pointed at Mrs. Claus. “We’ll have a family roast to celebrate the end of Christmas.”

And with that, they all disappeared.

Tomorrow: A Moment of Truth

The Christmas Spirit (including its namesake)

A misquote attributed to J. D. Salinger in the book Catcher in the Rye goes something like this.

“If Christ could see Christmas, he’d puke.”

But like many “quotes” attributed to famous people—to give them the weight of intellectual or literary authority—this is not what he wrote as dialog for Holden Caulfield. What Salinger wrote is much more aligned with the rest of this piece. Here’s what Caulfield said in the book after seeing a Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall,

“I said old Jesus probably would’ve puked if he could see it—all those fancy costumes and all.”

J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye.

Those with another purpose then twisted Salinger’s words, that the historical Jesus would have been offended by “those fancy costumes,” into the more erudite, “If Christ could see Christmas, he would puke.”

I think in either case, it misses the mark completely.

Assuming for the sake of argument there was a historic figure, Jesus of Nazareth—leaving aside the whole virgin birth, son of god, risen from the dead elements. And assuming the elements of the faith he preached about doing undo others as you would have them do unto you is an effective summary, I don’t think he’d puke at all.

“I said old Jesus probably would’ve puked if He could see it—all those fancy costumes and all.”

J.D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye

While one can make an argument about the distortion of consumerism and the glitz of the decorations, that same consumerism puts food on the table of those who produce and sell those goods. And the act of giving gifts to others, paid for by those jobs, meshes pretty well with the elemental spirit of “old Jesus.”

Perhaps if they had just created a few bumper stickers for their camels or roadside signs on the road to Jerusalem instead of writing the bible, more people would have understood the message and not twisted it to their own purposes.

As a young boy, they subjected me to a Catholic upbringing. I became Catholic not by choice but by virtue of the geography and lineage of my birth. Richard Dawkins compares the spread of religion to that of a virus. Your parents, or guardians, are the host spreading the virus onto their off-spring who do the same thing.

In the entire time I attended the Catholic Church and while growing up in Cumberland, RI, I met no one whose religion differed from their parents. It was remarkably consistent.

Which brings me back to the concept of the Christmas Spirit. Inevitably, over the coming weeks, one will see those very effective bumper stickers that say, “Put Christ back in Christmas.”

I would argue he was never out of it. That time and society has drifted away from the purely religious mysticism and turned Christmas into a holiday of Jingle Bells, Ho, Ho, Ho, and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer are a sign of progress.

We don’t need religion to teach us the fundamental philosophy of doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. A fat guy in a red and white suit riding the magic of imagination accomplishes the same thing in a much more effective way.

Now that’s not to say religion, for many, doesn’t have its place. The story of the wise men following the star is so ingrained in my psyche that every year, as Christmas approaches, I often think one star appears brighter than it does other times of the year.

This is not a harmful belief unless I forget it is based on something other than reality. Perhaps back then a supernova shone brightly, coinciding with the myth of the birth of Jesus. Perhaps the lapse of time between the writing of the story—decades after it allegedly happened—wrapped the truth with wishful fiction.

But it doesn’t alter the reality of what Christmas means to many outside of its religious origins.

If one wants to understand the spirit of Christmas, all you have to do is watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas. It covers the gambit of topics from the consumerism and the glitz—Snoopy’s winning the decorating contest—to Linus reciting the story of the Angels announcing the birth of Jesus to shepherds in the field to the whole group singing around the simple Christmas tree Charlie Brown embraced as only a child could.

There are a lot of things that might make “Old Jesus” puke in this world. Many of them are done in his name. But Christmas isn’t one of them.

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The Christmas Dragon: Part 8

Iris the Ice Queen

The darkness of the cave swallowed us. The light from outside faded. After a few minutes, I was tossed to the ground. An eerie pale glow surrounded me.  I looked for Max, but he wasn’t with me.

“So,” a cold voice hissed like air escaping a balloon, “this is who they choose to protect their precious Christmas? A mere boy?”

I spun around trying to find where it came from,  but could see nothing. Swirling wisps of snow rose from the ground, twisted like a tornado, then took shape before me.

I backed away, pressing against the chilled rocky wall of the cave. Gliding along the ground, the creature came closer, until it was right before me.

Ice queenI faced an angry looking, ice-covered, woman. She stroked the head of a wolf standing by her side, once Frank the fake Elf. He curled his lips at me, baring his teeth.

“Who…who…are you?” I said, my voice quivering. I fought against my fear.

“I am Iris, the Ice Queen.”

Her words came on gusts of frigid air, stinging my ears. “What do you want with me? Where’s Max?”

“You, my dear boy, and your sad little dragon are my guests. You’ll stay until the world knows Christmas is no more.”

“I want to see Max,” I took a step towards her. I could tell she didn’t expect this.

“Very well,” she began to fade, “but it will do you no good.” In a flash, she was gone. The wolf gave me one more flash of his teeth then ran off. Something odd about this. Why would she do what I asked?

After a few moments, the wall behind me gave way, light filtered through. I took a step closer, trying to see in. Another step. Then another. I squeezed through the narrow opening and stuck my head out. Max licked my face. He covered me with Dragon slime, but I didn’t care.

Max was okay. That was good. As to me, I wasn’t so sure.

I squeezed through and stopped dead in my tracks. dragon-dancing-animationMax danced in the middle of the giant cave, leaning over to lick my face when he got close, then bounced some more. All around him, looking pale and tired, were Santa’s reindeer team and the missing Elves.

While I tried to take this all in, the wall behind me slammed shut. We were sealed in a cave, no way out, deep in a mountain, guarded by a powerful magician, a snarling shape-shifting wolf, and surrounded by an army of dead trees.

I was alone and not sure what to do.

Then, Max slid his head between my legs and lifted me onto his back. He moved to the center of the room. The Elves and reindeer all gathered around us, looking at me.

“Tell’em what you’re gonna do, Joe,” Max said, smiling and bouncing on his feet. “Tell’em how we’re gonna save Christmas.”

I looked around at all the faces staring at me, a mixture of hope and fear shown in their eyes.

“I will,” I said, trying to sound confident, then whispered, “as soon as I think of it.”

TO BE CONTINUED

The Tradition of St. Nick: Thoughts on a Christmas Eve

(Through the wonders of technology, on this first day of December 2017, I repost this blog from last year, all while absorbing the sun on an Aruban Beach.  Thoughts of Christmas to warm your hearts, if not your other parts)

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On September 21, 1897, the editor of New York’s Sun captured the spirit of Christmas with these words,

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus…”

Seven words with an unanticipated longevity to the truth they proclaimed. The answer to a question from an 8-year-old girl.

This 8-year-old girl, facing life’s reality, sort reassurance from the authority of a newspaper. Imagine the quandary facing that editor, tell the truth or chip away at innocence?

He demonstrated great wisdom. He told the truth. A truth that holds to this day.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus…”

This is a spirit different than religious traditions. It is a non-denominational phenomenon crossing cultural boundaries and containing a powerful message.

It is easy to lose hope in this world. One begins to wonder if evolution has slowed when it comes to the humanness of humankind.

Or given up on us entirely.

Despite this I say, now more than ever, yes there is a Santa Claus. Even among those who hold no such traditions. The spirit lives in the commonality of our being human.

All we need is a willingness to give for the sake of giving. To seek our happiness by making others happy.

We can share the experience of watching the wonder in the eyes of a small child. See the spark of the spirit come alive and grow within them. Embrace the comfort of old friendships, the warmth of family, or just the companionship of a good dog (but never a cat.)

We all yearn to make others happy and feel the satisfaction of bringing joy to those we love. Or those we are yet to meet.

We can find solace in those same words; Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

It is within us all. All we need do is open our minds.

So, no matter where your tradition comes from. Be it a generous caring man of a different era, proclaimed a Saint, and turned into the legend of Santa Claus. Or a celebration of another tradition with equal import to your memories. Whatever you celebrate, in this Christmas season and from here on, I wish for you;

To have no regrets except for things you didn’t do.

To never to be afraid of failing at anything, except failing to try.

To remember the past, but waste no time on it.

To look forward to the future, but understand you cannot control it.

To hold onto hope, no matter what.

To embrace your moments in this life, once past they can never be reclaimed.

To find what fills your heart with smiles and have it grow, like the Grinch’s, three sizes this day.

To find that childlike spirit long buried by the cares of the real world.

To let the shackles of growing up fall away.

To dance like Snoopy to the music of Schroeder.

To understand, like Linus, it is the spirit that matters.

To know there is always tomorrow for dreams to come true. Even on your last day on this earth, the dreams of those we leave behind live on.

To work for a future of a world filled with laughter.

To understand it is through our differences we share the commonality of being human.

To be a child again, if but for one moment. To hear the far-off sounds of jingling bells. To see a faint red light of a magical reindeer approaching in the cold winter sky. To feel the excitement at the footsteps of a jolly old man on the roof of your memories.

The best part of the Spirit of Christmas is it is within our power to keep it well all the rest of our days.

886707_10151795370048031_640391184_oHappy Christmas to all and to all a lifetime of good nights.

 

Killing Christmas

We are, all of us, killing Christmas.

We are engaged in the destruction of fellowship, good will, and a wish for happiness for all by abandoning rationality, tolerance, and understanding.

This once uplifting time of the year fallen victim to our insistence on highlighting differences, rather than embracing them.

It is us versus them.

We are on the side of good; they are on the side of evil.

If you are not with us, you are against us.

Does it really matter if one says Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?

Of course not.

Yet some would have us believe respecting differences is in some way an abandonement of our own beliefs.

Or that making an effort to understand differences is a sign of weakness or surrender.

Nothing could be further from the truth or less in keeping with the spirit of Christmas.

The term Christmas may have originated in a particular religious philosophy, but the spirit it represents crosses all faiths and philosophies.

This world is at a crisis stage. Not because the threat facing us is any worse than others but because we face a choice of how we respond.

We can either move ahead as a race of intelligent, rational, and understanding beings or fall back into the violence of our past.

Differences make us better. Seeking to eliminate those differences diminishes us.

The Spirit of Christmas is universal. We do it a great disservice by ignoring that fact.

We are killing the true spirit of Christmas. We need to stop before it is too late for all of us.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Fröhliche Weihnachten, Giáng sinh vui vẻ, or Live Long and Prosper, does not really matter how you say it as long as you live it.