Christmas in the midst of difficulty

These days, as the day of the Lord’s nativity nears, one hears every now and then woeful plaints of how bleak Christmas will be for them for reason of financial inadequacy. Having equated this event as a season of partying and conspicuous consumption, they find their privation a deterrent to a satisfying celebration of Christmas. In some respects, their mindset is justifiable, for in a world whose measure of happiness is material satisfaction being in the midst of a festive occasions sans money is indeed a very sad predicament.

This may sound secular, but who is not these days? Unless one spends his waking hours in the convent it’s hard to find peace of mind with a survival wallet. In fact, men of the cloth would be the first to say “yah” to this observation, for they too, even more than the average lay man, have found worldly comforts a must in the practice of their vocation. For the common “tao” of course there’s nothing like basking in abundance on what satisfies the senses. And if he is a family man the urge in this regard takes the level of compulsion. For there is no more heart-rending sight than to see your kids bereft of gifts and good food at Christmas.

Christmas, is of course a happening of the spirit. Our childhood faith teaches us that the Son of Man came to save man’s soul. To celebrate His birth therefore is to celebrate the soul, and no fanfare is needed. Yet born and bred into a highly materialistic world which has turned the Yuletide season into a sizzling marketing event, we are helplessly worldly in our celebration.

Is Christmas more meaningful if spent with banquets and big-bang? It depends on the type of mind-set one has. A happy-go-lucky guy of course seeks a sense-fulfilling Christmas. But the more pensive one (El Penseroso, in literature) does not mind a quiet celebration spiced with spiritual reflections and prayers. Yet to both types there’s meaning in the event, and satisfaction too.

What is it like to spend Christmas in times of privation and uncertainty? We got a taste of this during the war years in the early 1940’s. We were in Lombo, a mountainous barrio about eight kilometers from the poblacion of Malaboyoc, Cebu, where we evacuated. With rugged terrains and deep ravines, the place was inaccessible by motor vehicles, which was a blessing for this kept the Japanese from penetrating the area. Like other inland areas in Cebu, farming was the main source of livelihood, and farming was what our family engaged in during those days. But the soil being sparse and rocky, our crops couldn’t yield much to tide us over so there were times when we subsisted on root crops, green bananas and buri-powder cakes. December was usually a lean month in the barrio. But this didn’t prevent us from celebrating Jesus’ birth meaningfully. On Noche Buena the family would pray the Rosary early in the evening. Then we would gather around the night’s fare arranged on the floor of our sala (we had no dining table) and feast on Mother’s cooking: boiled chicken, vegetable salad, fried ripe “gardaba” and buri-powder cakes called “kinugay,” a substitute for corn grits.

After supper we would be encouraged to stay awake until midnight to wait for the Child’s birth. It was then that we kids would gather around Mother to hear her recount the story of the Nativity. It was the same story told and retold from year to year, but we never grew tired of it, especially because Mother would add some “sidelights” to give it a new twist. For example, she narrated one time, that at Christmas the weather is cold because Satan, alarmed of Jesus’ coming into the world, would flap his wings by the North Pole, thus driving down cold wind towards the eastern countries.

On another occasion Mother made us wild-eyed as she described little Jesus playing clay pigeons with other boys of his age. The boys, she said, raised their pigeons in the air in an imagined bird fight. But when the divine Child held up his own pigeon, this became alive and started flapping its wings to the delight of his playmates.

Every now and then, Mother’s storytelling session would be interrupted by carolers. They would dish out English songs, but at times they would sing a daygon. No matter what their songs were these would add a sense of light-heartedness to us and helped us stay awake.

In the City these days, Christmas comes in an explosion of firecrackers and noise of various kinds. But in our barrio in those days we couldn’t hear even a single bang. Silence would dominate the night, silence that helped us recall the silence of the first Christmas. And in some unexplained way we would feel a glow in the heart – even in the midst of difficulty and anxiety.

* * *

Email: [email protected]