It is not an accident that Christmas makes us think of times gone by, and especially of people gone by. Perhaps we experience this as a sort of cruel twist as we get older. We might wonder why it can’t be like it was before, when ‘everyone’ was there. There is much food for thought here; and more, there is surely a great gift hidden under this rather painful wrapping.
First, we have occasion here to feel deeply, perhaps more than any other time, a defining human desire. We want to be together with those we love. If we can just be with them, really with them, everything will be fine. Indeed, wonderful.
The sharpness of the pain is directly commensurate with the profundity of the desire. We were made for something. And our heart will never, ever, let us forget that. Thank God. True hunger is always a gift. It keeps pointing the way, and it will only be fulfilled in a certain way. God grant us the grace to hear our heart, and act accordingly.
Why is it that Christmas brings this out so strongly? More than on any other occasion we take the time to stop, come together, and focus on the most profound reality. And then we enact in bodily ways, as only human beings can, the joy we have together in that reality. We decorate our homes and our own bodies; we prepare and feast on great food; we sing; we turn kindly to one another with alms or gifts; we pray and worship in concrete and memorable ways.
What could more human than to rejoice together bodily in the astounding realities and truths that give meaning to life? What greater way to be together than this?
And a central feature of this very joy is the reality of memory. By memory we live in the presence of realities that can seem not present. To live in memory is to bring together that which in some sense is separated, but not ultimately. Our memory now is a practice for when memory will mysteriously merge with a deeper presence—but a presence still characterized by memory!
To do memory well is a central challenge of life. The fact is, sometimes it’s really hard. As life itself in this imperfect stage is marked by suffering, so is memory. This is part of the gift. May God help us to be willing to suffer, for otherwise we will turn away from memory, which is to turn away from presence, and the path to the greater presence.
In his great essay on Christmas, Hilaire Belloc, after referring to the many travails and bitterness of life, most of all the death of loved ones, writes, “For they are all connected in the memory with holy day after holy day, year by year, binding the generations together; carrying on even in this world, as it were, the life of the dead…”
Carrying on in this world, as it were, the life of the dead. Especially at Christmas. What a notion! Isn’t it at Christmas that the life we shared together comes strongly to mind? So now is a key moment to enact our deepest convictions and make a choice. We can choose to express our faith that the life we shared here, while deeply real, was only a beginning. To carry on then the traditions and the joy we shared with them, is at once to carry on their life, and to point to future shared life.
Everyone around us will feel it. Those of us with some years behind us can take the lead here. We need not pretend there is no pain—especially the pain of separation. True memory is never avoidance or ignoring reality. Again, it is to enter more fully into it.
Christmas traditions help us in this, guiding us even in our weakness. We carry them on. We enter heartily into the celebration at hand. What more powerful witness that ‘everything will be fine,’ and indeed, that things are transcendently good? Even right now.
In this way we carry the dead with us. Indeed, rather, we carry with us those who are living but separated. Again, this is not accidental to our Christmas. It points us all the more toward what is essential in it. Here is something, I suggest, that a little Baby had well in his mind, among many other gifts he brought. ~ ~ ~
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For many years, despite the anticipation of the Incarnation, every Advent brought a slow march of sadness with it. It began when my mom passed away, deepened when my dad followed, and hit home when my brother thereafter died suddenly. Despite having my own nuclear family with my wife and two daughters, it was difficult to see myself as the last one standing. It didn’t end there, however, as that sense of loss unexpectedly brought along its friend: the sense of loss that comes from thoughts of self-doubt, the “if onlys” of life. What opportunities might have been lost in the past concerning my career, where I lived, in relationships along the way? This was a bad yearly spiral. Fortunately, Mass and the ensuing Christmas celebration pulled me out of these lulls each year. This year, though, was the most difficult. I had gotten over the loss of family as we’ve incorporated some traditions that carry on the fond memories. So, and I believe this was the Eneny’s work, the sadness came twice as hard from the doubts. I finally said “enough of this”, blathered it all to my wife, and then took it to Christ in prayer. The doubts are waning and the anticipation of the Incarnation is returning. Having given the burden to Christ, I know that He will bring a good out of this that will be equal yet opposite to the angst inflicted by the Enemy.
Dear Bob, You offer an amazing example of precisely what Belloc seeks to capture: the profound travails of life… and how the grace of God can heal and overcome. Yet the struggle goes on. He who perseveres to the end…
Please know that our prayers are with you. Thank you for offering us the opportunity to be joined to you through prayer. Have a truly Merry Christmas.
While it is obviously true that life is never static when there is a time and place that is complete and picture perfect, one cannot be aloof to those times when it does seem the picture is complete, perhaps even perfect with all the players in their right and proper places. So when there is a loss of someone very close to you, to take that analogy further, it is as if one is looking at a picture where that face has been cut out. The picture is no longer complete and perfect as it was. Because the photo was not a place in time, but rather a representation of the dynamic between each of the people in it. And now a piece is missing. In no way does this discount or argue the point you make in your essay which is truly the only right and good way to look at life with respect to loss and celebration. There will be completeness at some point as our Faith resoundingly tells us.
Amen, Bob. I firmly believe that the very profoundity of the loss and absence is the basis from which we can most clearly see the victory of Christ. But it remains a struggle; we have ongoing opportunity to choose again to keep going; to choose to believe; and even rejoice.
This will be the second Christmas without my father. I think in many ways, Christmas brings out a sense of desire. Desire for the truth, beauty, and goodness; the aesthetic beauty of the season is the easiest to grasp with the decorations, foods, and traditions. But the desire goes deeper into our hearts: it is a desire for a completeness that we will never truly obtain on earth and can only be felt with the resurrection. The coming of Christ is a reminder of our desire for the paradise that will come at the end when we will all be reunited with Christ and our loved ones, without suffering, and without sin. Christmas is the most wonderful beginning of the end. Still, as humans, we cannot help but feel that incompleteness that is the physical absence of a loved one.
Well said. Amen, Margo.
Also am applying this to aging parents like mine and others, experiencing the tragic pain of adult children cutting them off, especially excruciating when there are grandchildren involved. More times than not it is unjust and undeserved. People are incredibly petty and grandiose on both sides of a divide.
Also, including those lonely elderly whose well-to-do siblings abandon them. I see them at church. It is hard to know the whole stories but we are Catholics. This is the season for reconciliation and it must never end.
These too know the pain of loss each holiday they are forgotten and abandoned.
It’s a new epidemic by which therapists currently make their living, like vultures creating prey by either by poisoning the well of forgiveness and reconciliation (see the proliferation on social media of encouragement to cut off “toxic relationships”– and labeling everyone with differences “toxic”)
Or flat-out poisoning adults’ memories, inflating egos and importance of one child over the rest, encouraging the magnification of petty slights, and driving the forgetfulness that we are all human, all imperfect, all struggling in our own ways with our own faults and personalities, and called to forgive and be forgiven every year.
Let us look for ways to seat an elderly lonely person at our tables each holiday. Don’t leave the “Empty Place Setting” empty when there are so many sad adults in our own parishes, eating alone on Christmas 🙂
God bless you all!!
Thank you, Sarah, for sharing these reflections. I completely agree: this is a time when we are especially called to look again at pursuing reconciliation as well as to helping those that have been left behind. Merry Christmas.
We lost our oldest brother John a few years ago and especially notice his absence at large family parties, especially the ones that fall around Christmas. The feast of St John is on December 27th, and we do the traditional St John toast in his honor: “I drink thee the love of St John. I return thee the love of St John.” It goes around the whole circle of 35-50 people one at a time, send my brother’s kids know we haven’t forgotten him.
My mother died 11/2/2021. She kept a Purgatory Scapular dated 1955. She never mentioned this scapular during her life but upon reflection, I believe I was to kept the tradition of praying for my parents souls and those who have died. Although I enrolled my parents in the Fraternity of Notre-Dame de Montligeon for benefits from the Perpetual Holy Mass, having Mass said for them twice annually, and visiting their their graves four times a year, I remember them the most every Sunday when the priest says remember those who have died during the general intercessions. I will tonight toast tonight for my parents. Thank you for introducing this tradition.
My mother passed away when I was a teenager. My Dad 5 years ago. I miss them tremendously. I am the last one in my immediate family. I am currently single, with no children. The holiday season can be a roller-coaster. However, I keep my focus on the amazing memories of my parents. In addition I am grateful for family and friends who have opened their homes to me during the holidays.
I also know that my life can change in a heartbeat. Next holiday season I am open to new people and loved ones to celebrate this special time with.
God has worked miracles for.before. Why not now! Loving, warm, compassionate, welcoming relationships for Christmas!
I am ready, excited, and claim this gift!