On Putting Away the Christmas Decorations

Today we celebrate the Baptism of Jesus, a feast that marks the end of the Christmas liturgical season.

Each year at some mid point in Advent I put up the Christmas decorations and bring in the potted Daintree pine (which has very courteously, not died off on me during the year). It is always a joyful ritual for me as it marks the heightening expectation of Advent and another moment in the unfolding of the liturgical season of Advent-Christmas-Epiphany-Baptism – the time of festival. It also marks the time to honour friends God gives me.

My Christmas decorations usually come down after Epiphany. In the past, taking down the decorations seemed to be a chore. Take them down, tidy the house, back to normal. Putting away the decorations was something that had to be done in order to move onto the next part of the year.

However, this year as I began the task, suddenly my attitude was transformed. In that instant the task became a contemplative moment opening out to understanding and insight. I carefully, even reverently cleaned each star, bauble, rope, angel and spangle, wrapped each one in tissue and packed it away. It became a ritual, a transition moment that took me into the meaning not only of the Christmas festival, but of all Festivals.

The truth is, that this year as Christmas drew near I did not ‘feel’ festive. Several sad and anxious things had happened to me prior to Christmas and I was feeling out of step with the joyful anticipation expressed in the liturgy and in the social life around me. Yet as I brought these experiences and feelings to the feast, I saw that the great festivals take us beyond ourselves. One of the functions of Festival is to give our ordinary lives a context of meaning.

In the liturgy of the Christmas cycle, the extraordinary poetry of the Scripture juxtaposed an image of God who makes the crooked ways straight and moves mountains with that of a child born to an insignificant family in the vast Roman empire. God and humanity meet; God and humanity are revealed.

If the manner of this birth tells us anything, it is that God works within the human. That our human contradictions, our deaths and births, our coping with disorder, our lack of mathematical certainty about our lives, our giftedness and our striving for goodness are the very place that Incarnation happens for us. We collaborate with God and God conspires with us.

Glory in the Ordinary, the Every Day. However for us to live this out in ever greater honesty, we need Festival.

Festival times are periods that take us away from the normal passing of time. To celebrate well means that we take time from our ‘useful’ activities. We mark the time in different ways – with food, dress, gifts, songs, symbols, with friends and family and with worship. No matter how materialistic a culture becomes, how distorted our sense of celebration becomes, the need to mark times that are special and different will always be part of our human hearts. These times help us understand who we are and importantly, who we can be.

This holds for both the great religious festivals as well as our national festivals and our personal celebrations. For example, Australia Day helps us remember and celebrate what makes us all Australians – our privileges and responsibilities. Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings take our individual stories and place them in the midst of family and community. No matter how personal our festival may be, it will always evoke a wider context. Festival, in its deepest sense evokes the sacred in our midst and reminds us that we are always greater than we think we are.

However, we are not meant to live in festival mode every day. It is impossible. We must return to the ordinary, the every day. If we have allowed the festival to transform our minds, hearts, relationships and deeds, then the every day becomes more profound. It is here that we live out the conversions, insights and joys that were given during the festival. It is in the ordinary that we experience the sacred as abiding.

Conversely, without commitment to the ordinary, that every day commitment to love which is sometimes humdrum, sometimes demanding, sometimes delightful, Festival time that allows for that contemplative, joyful affirmation of our deepest meaning will never be heartfelt.

The commercialisation of Christmas in our culture tends to obliterate the process of Festival, let alone the meaning of the celebration. For many of us, the lead up to Christmas as well as the celebration itself is busy and stressful for one reason or another. However, if this time of Festival is to work its unique power, we have to make choices about how we celebrate – what is of value to us, the quality of our celebration and relationships etc. etc.

My Christmas decorations remind me of this. That we need times of festival to celebrate God who is abidingly and passionately in our lives, to gaze upon this mystery in order to take it into ourselves, to understand with mind and heart and to be transformed into God bearers.

In the end, it did not matter that I did not ‘feel’ festive. What mattered was that the truth of what was happening around and to me was drawn into the mystery of this festival and so became filled with meaning, acceptance and hope which I carry into my every day.

So, as I put away the Christmas decorations for another year, they will lie hidden in a cupboard. They must be put away – just as the festival must end in time – in order for the festival of the heart, those hidden treasures of love, commitment, generosity, forgiveness, transformation and insight to be nurtured and acted upon in the world of the Ordinary where we have the gift of bringing Jesus to birth by our acts.