Our family tradition has remained the same. During the Feast of our Lady of Remedies at Malate, Manila (where my family first settled and where my grandfather had a devotion to our Lady and so believe it or not my second name is Remedios), we begin to decorate our house for the holiday season. Calendar-wise, we are around a week early. Advent formally begins the week after, during the celebration of Christ the King.
This year, more than any other year, I am ambivalent about decorating the house for Christmas. I am uncomfortable when I see the subdivision where I live putting on light displays, knowing that just a few weeks ago, they had spent a considerable amount decorating for Halloween. It all seems so… ostentatious, outrageous, insensitive, inappropriate, wrong. The world to me seems at a crucial point, and everybody has to commit to a new lifestyle (whether ready or not!), or has to at least rethink the way one has so far lived one’s life. Surely the old ways of being may no longer apply to the current world we live in.
And that perhaps is the difficulty in keeping traditions. By their very nature they are time-tested activities that fundamentally underline who we are as a people, a family and an individual. We repeat the actions of tradition because it is a way of establishing identity. But traditions do not happen in a vacuum, but rather are practiced in the light of present context. Perhaps tradition must move? Or perhaps tradition must even more be anchored in its inviolability? Should we decorate less in this season of recession? Or should we decorate just the same precisely because it is the recession and at no other time must we all be reminded of the importance of Christmas? Ahhh, to live in the post-postmodern world, where there are no right answers, only real, important questions.
At the center of Advent, is a measure of foolishness and stupidity. Part and parcel of those two elements is a tremendous amount of generosity. For what is it precisely that we celebrate at Christmas time? (Speaking of real, important questions…) What we celebrate is the stupidity of the Lord in sending His Only Son, to save the world from Sin. What could be more foolish? But it was anchored on Love — yes, with a capital L, as no other Lover in the world has rushed headlong into the Beloved as Christ did. What we celebrate is not rational, reasonable or even fair. It is at the very root of Love — of a God’s belief in what he lives and ultimately dies for. Literally, as Filipinos would say, so over… as in, “over na over!”
How then do we respond to this gift? We respond by trying to match that generosity. We respond by matching that foolishness and stupidity. We make our homes pretty and golden because we agree that the way God sees us is the way we see ourselves — beautiful, shiny, bright, light-filled. Our doors open the way the Innkeeper’s did when no one else would let Mary and Joseph in. We match the brightness of the star hoping to be a beacon of light to other people, especially to those who do not believe or do not have faith. We proclaim to all that we are no longer ordinary individuals who simply live and die. We live and die in Love.
Thought of this way, how could we not embrace Advent with its lights, tinsel, a humongous Christmas tree and a Christmas list that could match Santa’s own?
However, there are other traditions that arrive. There are more beggars out on the street. The Aetas from the mountains come down and begin to appear with their children wrapped around their arms as they walk around the streets of Manila. People begin to become more generous and I see motorists give away prepared small Christmas bags with snacks and small toys. Companies organize community parties where they interact with the “less fortunate of our country.” Malls begin to collect toys and books to distribute to different benefactors. Understanding that generosity is at the heart of the Advent season, others tap into that generosity hoping to extend it beyond family and friends.
I guess some people try to find a way of doing that, understanding completely how futile the work is. No amount of toy giving will alleviate poverty. There is always that indescribable pain at the end of the day at the park, or the mall, after spending the day with poor children. That sadness is an admittance that some things are not enough no matter how well-intentioned and pure one’s motives are. And there’s the rub, because the true work of Christmas begins the day after Christmas, and every day henceforth. To miss that truth is to miss the whole point. Christ was born, grew up, suffered and died. To understand Christmas is to understand that fate will eventually play itself out. Should we therefore ban all kinds of revelry and celebration, wrap all our Christmas goodies away and wait for Lent?
But maybe it’s not all as simple as that. A few years ago, in an attempt to simplify our lives, our family (all the way down to second cousins) all agreed to not give each other Christmas presents. We were allowed to only give the children something, but all grown-ups were exempted from all our lists. Christmas was definitely less harried, and pesos were spared. But then on Christmas Eve night, as all the children opened their presents, and all the grown-ups circled around watching their eyes gleam and glow, I felt such a sadness and I realized that giving was ultimately tied to receiving. We disdain the idea of receiving, thinking it is always better to give, but there is such humility in its twin as well. All these oppositions — Christmas and Lent, rationality and faith, simplicity and ostentatiousness, giving and receiving, etc. — that make life delicious and worth living can sometimes get lost in that other set of opposites: freedom and obligation. How much of what you do during this season is an act of freedom? I myself work through the obligation of gift giving afraid to leave anyone out. I have a tried and tested method of creating a set of generic presents that can take away my having to think what to truly give, individually. All that weakens the Spirit of it all.
Maybe once again the answer to the difficult question is to have a merry, little Christmas the way the first Christmas took place — with little fanfare and much joy. There is wisdom in continuing the tradition of decorating one’s home, understanding that it is simply metaphorical of preparing one’s heart. As in Bethlehem, we could choose to be the Three Kings and bring the best to the table consciously aware that it is the intention behind the gift that has value more than the gift itself. We can be like the Innkeeper, who gave although it was clearly impossible. We can be like the shepherds at the stable who did not give anything material, but gave their attention and presence. This year I resolve to bring out the best that Christmas should in my family — an extension of gratefulness for all things great and small; a humility in being found worthy of receiving something; an awareness that I must continue the work of Christmas every day.
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Speaking of a gift that keeps on giving, I was recently involved in a project spearheaded by Hands On Manila. It is a collection of essays on volunteerism entitled Be Hands On, from real, actual volunteers such as John Silva, Marc Nelson and, yes, Chris Tiu. All proceeds of the book go to Hands on Manila, ensuring that the work of Christmas continues long after the last bibingka. You may purchase the book already gift-wrapped and good to go! For more information, you may contact Hands on Manila at info@handsonmanila.org or call 386-6521 and 843-7044.
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You may reach me at Rica.Santos@gmail.com.