Just Days Before Christmas

We are hosting family members for Christmas this year. The elders, of course: my dad (84), my mom (82), and Aunt Ginger (88). Aunt Ginger has been having health problems and there is every likelihood that this will be her last Christmas. My brother Mark, his wife Jackie, and their adult son Matt will be joining us as well, driving over from their home about 30 miles away. David, my stepson, may be briefly at the table before going to join his elderly grandmother's meal. It will be traditional holiday fare, and, yes, there will be apple pie for all. With about 50 hours to go before the meal, there is a lot remaining yet to do, but these thoughts come first.

I always have mixed feelings about Christmas and this year is no exception. This is not because of my Jewish faith and the disconnect between it and the dominant Christian one in this county. I was raised with Christmas. My children celebrated (and continue to celebrate) Christmas. Warren celebrates Christmas. No, my feelings are tangled up in old memories, dismay over the crass consumerism the holiday brings out in so many of us, sorrow over the state of our country, and the insistence that we all be merry. Not thoughtful, not contemplative, not kinder, but merry.

By definition, "merry" means "cheerful and lively." Synonyms include "joyful," "carefree," "high-spirited,""jolly," and "lighthearted," to name but a few. Nothing wrong with any of those responses, but one size does not fit all, even at Christmas.

I like better this quote by L. R. Kost that I came across in another blog:

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. And all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.

Now that's something I can get behind this time of year. It very much reflects the Jewish obligation of tikkun olam, or repairing the world. And it honors the notion of doing good in a dark, broken world, regardless of the number of presents under the tree.

See you on the other side.