Traditions- By Elaine Hall
TRADITIONS
by Elaine Hall
Christ-mas
Christ (in Hebrew, Anointed One)
Mas (in Greek, big gathering of people)
Christmas traditions; they become the focus during “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”. You begin by digging through the storage shed for the years-old pretend spruce. Or passing the Salvation Army bell-ringers with their red kettles, you drive to the tree lot for the best selection. Or hoping for a bit of snow, you and your family sing “Jingle Bells” at the top of your lungs as you trek into the woods in search of the perfect fir.
Memories flood your mind as you open boxes of colorful heirloom, delicately shaped ornaments, unwrap the one inscribed with “Baby’s first Christmas” or admire the brightly-painted glass hot-air balloon you bought on that vacation out West. From front door to attic, you festoon your home with all things red and green.
Whether it’s scoping out the best deals as you shop on Black Friday, wrapping your loved ones’ gifts in the colors of the season, or warming yourselves by the first fire in the hearth, you all have your favorite traditions.
When you finally collapse near the soft glow of twinkling lights to enjoy that long-awaited cup of hot cocoa, you sigh with the misconception that you have all the boxes checked off your to-do list and are ready for the big day. But in that quiet time of reflection, when your senses are heightened by the scent of cinnamon sticks, cloves and orange slices simmering in a pot on the stove, that you pause long enough to hear the Reason for the Season whisper to you through December’s best carols.
“Silent Night. Holy Night.
All is calm. All is bright.
Round yon virgin, Mother and Child.
Holy Infant…”
An image of a cold winter night nudges you: stars shine down on a humble stable where a young man attends a teenager who has just given birth. Alone and in a foreign land, they are surrounded by animals and their stench. Mary swaddled the Son of the Most High God in long strips of cloth, the same fabric used to wrap newborn lambs destined for sacrifice.
Eyes blurry with tears, pain stabbing your heart, you are struck with the shattering realization; this Baby, this blameless Innocent laid in a manger filled with straw, was born to die, to be God’s perfect offering. For you.
Your gaze lifts to the stairs where your children, small fingers wrapped around the railing, peer down at their best efforts to make cookies smeared with frosting. Their hopes of catching a glimpse of a bearded man in a red suit lights their faces. Yet the two can’t hide their surprise when, instead of being scolded to go back to bed, you reach for them.
As they settle in your lap, the music changes.
“Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel.
Born is the King of Israel…”
“Do you know the real story of Christmas?” you ask them.
Face tilted upward, eyes wide, your pre-schooler suggests, “When Jesus got born?”
“That’s part of it, but you need to understand that lots of babies have come into this world and become a king, but only one time – in all of history – did a King become a baby.”
Eyes wide, your kindergartner wonders, “How’d He do that?”
As you answer the questions of the next generation, begin a new tradition. Teach them, then remind them on this, the holiest of nights, that Christmas is a time of love, kindness and peace and to remember Who is most important of all.
“O Holy Night,
The stars are brightly shining.
It is the night of our dear Saviour’s birth…”
The Conversation
The story of the birth of our Savior never gets old for me, and your descriptions reminded me of Norman Rockwell paintings of family gatherings, putting me in a peaceful mood.
But as I read on, I was struck by the similarity of your story to the movie “Miracle on 34th Street” – not of people who don’t believe in Santa, but about those who don’t know our Savior, the real reason for the season. And you had me questioning if I was doing enough of telling the gospel. Especially at this time of year when it would be so easy.
You have told the beautiful story again, and it has spurred me to be more intentional about being a better witness, not only now, but all year round.
Thanks, Elaine.