Every year there's a similar debate in my family: what to do about Christmas gifts.
In the old days everyone gave presents to everyone. We all gathered in the living room - grandparents to grandkids - for the exchange ritual. The youngest would have already opened their presents from Santa Claus. Then someone would pass out the wrapped gifts from under the tree. When most folks had at least one gift, someone gave the cue to start opening. The trick, however, was that the next person had to wait until the first gift was opened and everyone had her chance to ooh and ahhh.
Over the years we've modified this practice, trying to keep the original spirit. As families multiplied and the economy contracted, we've grappled with how to maintain the best parts of our tradition. (Tradition is big in our family!) This year it seems really hard. With more family members living farther away & the housing and jobs pain affecting many, what to do is more difficult to decide.
I was pondering why this question keeps coming up. Why can't we decide once and for all? One reason seems to be change. Living families are always changing, so practicalities have to change with them. Another factor is that love & appreciation often compete with responsibilities and logistics at times like this. At Christmas we want to demonstrate to certain people that we care about them. As families expand into new generations, there are more and more people in our circle of care and responsibility. Put this in the context of changing membership, economics, travel, etc. and it becomes a mix that is sometimes hard to sort out.
Complicating things even more is the fact that Christmas is a time of heightened emotion for many people. It brings to the surface memories and sentiments that lie dormant much of the year. When this intensified sensitivity is the backdrop for often complex decisions about family gatherings, one has a formula pretty certain to cause pain, anger and/or frustration somewhere in the group.
In our idealization of Christmas with its charming crib scenes, delightful music, and Christmas card happiness I think we can easily overlook that love is often the source of much suffering. I think it was St. Teresa of Avila who said to God: "If this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!"
That baby in the crib stepped from eternal glory into a time-bound life with few faithful friends and pain beyond our understanding. He wanted to bring divine Love into our lives and make us brothers and sisters to each other, but the path was that of the cross.
Maybe our attempts to grapple with Christmas gatherings are, in a small way, reminders that real love carries a price tag that's rarely, if ever, discounted. When we think of the Christ Child as God's gift of infinite love, we need to remember that his cross and ours is hidden in that crib.
I'm glad I thought about this. It may help me be more patient as we try to figure out who's having Christmas this year and what are we doing about presents.
a KY monk
