by Joshua Gryniewicz

Finding the Meaning of Christmas
copyright (c) 2003 by Josh Gryniewicz

Maybe Charlie Brown was right, maybe Christmas has become too commercial, but it’s by product seems worse than old Chuck even realized. It’s easier to find stories of holiday woe involving soccer mom stampedes for the latest Tickle – Me – Poke – A – Bean than it is to find gestures of good will. The local mall often conjures more violent impulses than it does brotherly love and Romero’s flesh – eating – mall – haunting – zombies from Dawn of the Dead are more likely to dance through my head than sugar plum fairies.

One of the “largest shopping days of the year”, Black Thursday, the season officially begins. Collector’s edition DVDs overpriced electronic junk and flashy techno gadgets deck the halls; appliances and toys hung on kiosks with care, in the hopes that fanatical shoppers would soon riot there.

Grumpy Grinch and surly Scrooge shoppers fail to disappoint forming Depression style food lines that wind throughout the store; their faces reflect a virtual absence of emotion, a sort of apathetic autopilot that propels them through purchases.

When I recall Christmas past it is the offbeat memories the jingle my bells – my brother, Chris and I shoveling our neighbor’s walks and leaving “To: / From:” gift tags as calling cards signed the “X-Mas Elves.” I remember naked snow angels, playing kick the frozen jell-o and fighting armies of killer snowmen. One year Chris, our friend Ricky and I were being chased and hid in a front porch nook. We inadvertently shocked an elderly woman opening her front door (where we were huddled) spontaneously our trio burst into “Jingle Bells,” alleviating both her fear & our own.

I also remember the usual – there were the manipulations of classic carols belted during choral performances (i.e. “Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg”) while the kids who took it seriously would melodiously covered our indiscretions. There was my mom’s favorite ornament (an upside down possum) and my father’s knack for “adopting” pathetic pines, forlorn firs and emaciated evergreens or “Charlie Brown trees” as my mom called them.

There are recollections of digging snow forts, sledding and walking wooded winter wonderlands. 

Most of all I remember the feeling of Christmas, a sensation of freedom and new beginnings. A feeling where everything seemed transformed through the magic of the season, but when the obligations of the holiday surpass its festivity and automaton routines of spending and purchasing usurp its celebration, the meaning of Christmas seems lost.

Christmas is a time for nostalgia, a time to acknowledge the years past and the future to come. Whether it is perceived as the celebration of Christ’s birth or through the older Celtic festivals in honor of the Winter Solstice, it represents a transition from the literal and figurative death in winter to the prospects of new beginnings, rebirth and the promise of hope embodied by spring.

The spirit of Christmastime is a spirit of nostalgia – the warmth shared in the communal family gathered around hearth and home. This moment of transition is cause for gift giving, family gathering, home movies, photo albums and Christmas cards to acknowledge this shift in time. Only stories however capture the essence of memory and it is memory that serves the sacred nature of the season.

This year collect tales of Christmas past from family and friends to help recapture the nostalgic spirit of the season.

Stories are the key to reminiscence and the kindling for seasonal warmth; they will reinforce the sense of communal family gathering and the transition into new beginnings. Have a great holiday and an exceptional New Year.

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