The Church struggles mightily to keep the birth of Jesus Christ more than just an excuse for gift giving. A man stands around a fire and shares his poverty with somebody else and the truth in his situation shakes me I am envious of their Christmas.
Even in the ambiance of New York City where the Rockefeller Center tree towers and sends out a message of love and hope there are questions. The city an array of stores ready to entice the shopper or camera buff smiles through frozen eyelids. The smell of one too many cognacs waffles through the air and ordinary people rub shoulders with the elite and don’t know it. The wind is blowing and a man has no gloves and his hands are red and covered with blisters. In spite of the tree, giving him a few dollars is not enough to make me feel better. Into an alley he walks toward a burning blaze in a metal garbage can surrounded by men like him and I am not welcome, yet I wonder.
How would it feel on Christmas to not have a tree or a gift or a family that loved me and showered me with gifts? How would it feel to not have the touch of human kindness or friends to reminisce about old times and things to come in the New Year? How can a tree and cameras and tourists make a difference in a season? Children in welfare hotels go hungry and Santa Claus should bring more than a toy. Santa Claus needs to bring more than a tree. Sometimes I wonder about Christmas.
Through a bar glass so clear that a long time ago you could see the farthest horizon and moms and dads did their best to make each Christmas the best that they could. Now children that knew the memory would sometimes come around when it was convenient and expected to be understood. A mother still sentimental would recall her husband and the toys and to many drinks trying to put them together before sunrise. Now she sits and stares at the card that just arrived with a polite I love you and sorry we can’t make it this year. Sometimes I wonder at the incredible lives that we walk through expecting some rewards for being guardians more than anything else.
The wind blows and it will not be a white Christmas but a frigid walk to winter havens and taverns where the drinks are raised in toasts of a festive occasion. A man stands around a fire and shares his poverty with somebody else and the truth in his situation shakes me I am envious of their Christmas. They are closer to a manger than the tentative strangers that are with me now. Rubbing shoulders with the elite and sharing gifts and gift ideas and counting the number of days until the relatives go home and sometimes I wonder about Christmas.
The Church struggles mightily to keep the birth of Jesus Christ more than just an excuse for frivolity and gift giving and loses ground each year. Many would disdain the very words and substitute holiday season for no better reason than to claim a share for their own beliefs. I am more impressed by the fire in the alley and the warmth of those gathered there and overlooked much the same as the new born Savior was overlooked in the season of his birth. Even as I stand in the warmth of the lights and feel the exuberance of humanity around me the words fly through me but fail to move me. Sometimes I wonder about Christmas.
This opinion article was written by an independent writer. The opinions and views expressed herein are those of the author and are not necessarily intended to reflect those of DigitalJournal.com