The Weekly Fare . . . Dec 16, 2004

The Soular Express

It wasn't long ago that I was one of those people that lamented the increasingly early start to the Christmas season. As the commercial / secular side of Christmas crept earlier and earlier back through the calendar past Thanksgiving towards Halloween and even beyond, I became ever the more annoyed.

"Geez, when will it stop?!" I'd exclaim exasperated. "Why don't we just start hanging decorations in July?!"

It wasn't long, of course, before stores started running "Christmas in July" sales.

I felt like Charlie Brown.

"Doesn't anyone understand the real meaning of Christmas?!"

But as the years passed and my ability to trust things grew, I began to take a two-track approach to the holidays. Down one rail ran the wheels of my train that had everything to do with the secular holiday and the many joys of that nostalgic celebration. One might call it the gospel according to Rudolph and Santa and gift giving and decorating the tree and being hopeful of a white Christmas "just like all the ones I used to know." And the other track, of course, having to do with preparing and quieting my soul for the simple yet unfathomable glory of the arrival of the Prince of Peace into the shabby manger that is my own fallen heart . . .

These are two distinct rails to be sure - but they have a way of running together and derailing the train completely if we let them. But I have found that with a little bit of practice and patience that it is possible to fully separate the two - not that each celebration doesn't occasionally inform the other in some interesting way, but generally speaking the "real Christmas," that Charlie Brown so persistently yearned to discover, stays safe and clear from the secular schmaltz and it's near never-ending ability to distract.

In fact, I now find myself accepting and even welcoming the early onslaught of secular Christmas. Not only do we have a fabulous journey due to the young age of our children but it seems that the earlier we ride that rail and all its side tracks, the sooner we are able to come to that switch that sends the train down the mainline to the real station . . . The one that welcomes me in quiet glory as I seat myself at the rear of the sanctuary on Christmas Eve to ponder the great mystery amidst flickering candles, heavenly music and the silent whisper of the Spirit that allows the Holy birth to break into history again and again and again . . .

Such moments remind us, even before we "get there," that the celebration of Christmas like our faith becomes bullet-proof in the light of the swaddled babe - all we must do is trust Him in spite of, and maybe even because of, all the distractions on the other side of the track.

This week we're planning on taking the children to see the Polar Express, and I am looking forward to what I have been told is a fabulous and inspiring movie . . . But the real train I'm riding has already found it's own mysterious tracks and I can hardly wait to get where we're going.

I hope everyone can find their way on board.