Christmas is many things. It is the time of the celebration of the birth of Christ. It is a season when many preparations are being made. Gifts must be bought, cards sent, decorations put up, food assembled, trips made, and much work done.
It is a vacation time, a time of feasting, a time of the gathering of family and friends, a time of giving and receiving. As the long awaited day approaches, my children can hardly contain their eagerness, and we adults feel, if they cannot entirely share, their excitement. And, if Christmas is not a time of complete joy, much effort is given to making it have that appearance, for sure.
For adults, Christmas is apt to be entangled in a bundle of childhood memories. It is a memory of artificial Christmas trees, traveling to ‘pasar’ by bus to buy new shirts and pants, and, for those who grew up in the ‘binua’, going into the woods to find and cut ‘buruk’ to bring home for ‘pangkang’, oh my favourite. Or by night, become one of the carollers going door-to-door on foot to spread the spirit of Christmas through hymns. Whether it’s ‘Deck the Halls’, ‘Joy to the World’ or ‘Silent Night’, among many others, these Christmas carols also provide the soundtrack to the holidays in most households.
And don’t forget the smell of Christmas: paint, body perfume, lotions, new fabrics, and the like. There is the aroma of special foods being prepared: of the ‘nyate penga’, of all the ingredients that go into the stuffing, and the table laden with puddings, cakes, beers, sauces, and other mouth-watering dishes.
Above all, it is the memory of a time in our lives when the sense of mystery, awe, and wonder were still alive to numerous possibilities, and the poetic had lost little ground to the prosaic. Perhaps Mark Twain best exemplifies this transition phase with his observation of his own father: “When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.”
For children especially, Christmas is a season of special sights, sounds, and aromas. Much of the appeal of Christmas is to the eye. There is the Christmas tree with its glittering balls, tinsel, strands of coloured lights, topped, perchance, with an angel or a star, and surrounded by brightly wrapped packages. There are often wreaths on the doors of houses, candles in the windows, coloured lights strung around them, and even nativity scenes on lawns or a Santa on the roof in a sleigh pulled by reindeer.
Churches, too, often feature nativity scenes, and shopping malls have their decorations too. Wreaths, bells, and coloured lights are prominently displayed. Stores often have Christmas trees, frosted windows, wreaths and tinsel hung in prominent places.
And yet, as we grow up and grow older there is a sadness associated with Christmas, a sadness that makes us reluctant to think about the one that is coming, a sadness that can overwhelm and depress, an unsettling of the spirit which, when it is upon us, makes it difficult, if not impossible, to recapture the sense of joy we think we should feel.
However deeply people may feel this unsettling feeling, they usually touch it lightly, if at all. They tend to dismiss their own emotions with such statements as “I just don’t have the Christmas spirit” or “It doesn’t feel like Christmas to me yet.” Or, a husband or a wife may say one to the other: “I wish we could go on a trip somewhere and let Christmas come and go without us.”
But it is not my purpose here either to dwell upon the sadness or to attempt to make any extended explanation of it. Rather, I wish to point the way beyond the sorrow to new hope and joy. Children have been taught, perhaps inadvertently, to view Christmas as an end in itself, as a fruition, a fulfilment, a completion. They have anticipated the day for days, weeks, and sometimes months, and our customs supply them a crowning moment. It is the opening of the presents.
It is not uncommon, however, for an older child to open his presents, look them over, and turn to the givers to ask, “Is this all?” The seeds of the sadness which many feel about Christmas lie in that question.
But Christmas is not an end itself, nor a fruition or fulfilment. It is the celebration of a beginning. The birth of every child is a beginning. It is often a joyous occasion, as friends and relatives gather to marvel at the wonder that is a new-born baby and congratulate the parents.
Even so, it is the beginning of something, not the end. Nor would any adult think of looking at the tiny infant and asking, “Is that all?” We know it is not; it is only the beginning. Just so, the story of the child whose birth we celebrate at Christmas did not end with that event. It was a beginning, a hopeful one, a beginning with a star bright promise, if you will, but a beginning nonetheless.
There is the broader picture, too. That the Christmas story was only a beginning is evidenced in the annals of history. For those who accept and believe the Bible, the anticipation does not end with Christmas; it has a new beginning in an immeasurably greater anticipation.
The Christmas that small children anticipate so hopefully is only a ‘hint’. Looked at in that way, when we examine the story beyond Christmas, we learn of the possibility for people of all ages to have a Merry Christmas.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of New Sarawak Tribune.
