A birth that changed everything . . .
What can I give Him, poor as I am . . .
I sat at my butcher block yesterday, rather glumly chopping vegetables for the Christmas company soon to arrive, and thinking about why our culture, our society, our crazy and wonderful and amazing and horrific world celebrates this holiday we call Christmas. Why do we bother? So many strange customs, rituals, and traditions surround it, secular, religious, deeply spiritual, cynical . . . Some full of the deepest meaning, some fun, some materially oriented . . . Commemorating the birth of a person born more than 2000 years ago who some call a god, a savior; some call a great prophet and teacher; some call just a man, reviled by some, worshipped by others, treated with indifference by many.
Regardless of your spiritual persuasions, something about that birth changed the history of our world. Not too many folks today are untouched by this thing we call Christmas.
Why are you touched, I wonder? How is my life or your life different because of Christmas?
The company coming for whom I am preparing food are professed “non-believers,” whatever that means. Why am I chopping carrots and celery and cranberries for a feast to celebrate — what? — Nothing? No, for them, it is an opportunity for family to gather, and family means so much to them. It is where they give and receive something called love, attachment, belonging . . .
Because it is not my need, my longing, does not make it wrong. This is something I can offer, even if rather churlishly. Maybe that’s what that birth 2000 years ago was all about.
And so I chop vegetables. Sweep the floor. Clean the bathrooms. Put clean sheets on the beds. Place brightly wrapped packages under a tree.
