WHAT IS CHRISTMAS REALLY?


Is Christmas the celebration of Christ’s birth?
Is Christmas the celebration of a country girl
Saying yes to a vision?
What is Christmas really?

Is Christmas the beginning of self righteous hatred
Toward God’s chosen (yet in my infinite wisdom, unsaved) people?
Is Christmas the beginning of self-proclaimed crusades,
Crusades to conquer what was never mine to claim?
What is Christmas really?


Is Christmas the ultimate wag the dog?
Presents under the tree,
A larger than usual Christmas offering,
And Drinking,
Drinking egg nog till there’s one on my head.
What is Christmas really?

Is Christmas a chance to spend time with a Samaritan?
How about a Muslim?  Someone of color?
Or someone white?
How about someone who smells?  Ah yes!
How about someone who proclaims “I’m Jezuz”?



What is Christmas really?

Is Christmas the celebration of Santa Claus
Bouncing from one roof top to another
In his magical sleigh?


Is Christmas the morning I’m forced to climb the ladder
To shovel the inexplicable from the roof top?
(Reindeer poop!)
What is Christmas really?

Speaking of inexplicable, 
Why do I celebrate Christmas?


To eat a big turkey dinner with family and friends?
To feel depressed thinking about how lonely I am?
(And no one even knows!)
What is Christmas really?

Do I celebrate Christmas to feel anxious,
Anxious about the mail arriving in January?



To feel smug about everything,
Everything I gave to just about everyone?
(And no one appreciates the extent to which I stretched
My budget, and yes, even my heart!)
What is Christmas really?

Speaking yet again of  “inexplicable.”
Do you know about the folks I hate?
(Yes, indeed, a very strong word.)



And in my own self-righteous crusade
To set them straight,
I give them nothing for Christmas but really bad vibes. 
Yes, my gift to them.
(It should wake them up on Christmas day,
Don’t you think?)
Yes, what is Christmas really?



“Christmas is Love
Pitching her tent amongst us,”
Writes John.
And why would Love pitch her tent
Amongst us?
We’re certainly not the kind of folks
To invite Love into the neighborhood
Or are we?
What is Christmas really?

Why would Love pitch her tent
Amongst us?
“To save us,” some say.
To save me from what?
Perhaps from my worship of good and evil,
Perhaps from my incessant fear of judgment,
Pieces and parts of myself not present
At the moment of my birth?
What is Christmas really?

“Like candle smoke, 
My life drifts away,” sings the psalmist.
“Plant in me the seeds of trust
That somewhere, in my shattered self,
Burns a Spark,
A Spark of your inextinguishable fiery Love.”


Ah! perhaps, there it is, my friends.
Love pitched her tent amongst us
Because we belong to Love,
We are Love.
What is Christmas really?


No matter how much I refuse to touch that desire
I experience in every cell,
Now matter how committed I am to turn off
That at-times seemingly painful passion that drives me
To search for another set of eyes, another face,
No matter how fast I run from that Spark,
I come to the end of the road at the same time
Everyone else does, to embrace the inevitable: 
We belong to Love,
We are Love.
This is what Christmas is, really.

So before we begin to soothe our shattered self
With food, with drink, with angry voice,
And yes, with those bemoaned looks,
Will you join me in opening our eyes,
Our ears, and yes, our hearts?
Take in everyone we see and hear.
Bless them!



Bless them with Love’s presence.
It is here, yes here,
Where they can experience that Spark,
That Spark which rests just beneath our clutter,
Our all important clutter.
This is what Christmas is, really.

It’s certainly worth  one more refrain.
Don’t you think?

What is Christmas really?
“Christmas Is Love
Pitching her tent amongst us.”


This is what Christmas is REALLY.

Christmas, 2014


Thank you William O’Malley.  Your “More Daily Prayers For Busy People,” Fourth Sunday, and in particular your wonder filled interpretation of Psalm 102, inspired these poetic words.
Picture of homeless man courtesy of
http://www.freepik.com/free-photos-vectors/homeless  

Comments

  1. Dear Divine Poet
    Thank you for using me one more time!

    ReplyDelete

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