Jesus is

The Reason for the Season

It’s coming over all Christmassy in our house. Not as much as in years gone by. Children wide eyed in expectation and amazement seeing the Christmas tree all decorated up with the gifts. Shrill cries of delight at the thought of Santa, his reindeer and sleigh, with sacks full of goodies squidging down the chimney or, more recently, through the windows as they no longer have a chimney, to place the gifts so thoughtfully in personal piles under or around the tree.

First off was the ‘watch night service’, or midnight communion at our local church, followed by a smart walk home in the vain hope the kids would be tired. No – ours weren’t tired either. Now we have an empty nest and our children have children of their own. The mean part of me says “Great, you can have them at 5 in the morning piling into your bed.” The Granddad in me misses all that, and the ensuing excitement as stockings are rummaged and carefully explored for little toys, oranges, and sweeties.

In our house, the official announcement of Christmas used to be “Merry Christmas”, by Slade, belting out on the record player. This was followed by a more sedate medley of Christmas carols which everyone joined in such that the cacophony would have ousted the neighbours – had they not had a similar bun-fight of their own causing a similar noise.

Then, after a suitable wait for grandparents to arrive and all the joyful greetings, hugs, and kisses all round, it was gift time! Our tradition was for each person to open one at a time while the rest of us watched or fiddled with our own next gift for our turn to open came around. This had two advantages – one, we all knew what everyone received from whom. Two, Mum knew all the above for thank you letters to be dutifully written next day.

Then the feast that was Christmas dinner – a ritual which could last three or more hours depending how many times we went back for more. So the afternoon and evening socialising and family chatter went on interrupted only by Christmas tea. Plates piled high once more with cold turkey, ham, pickles etc etc. Looking back, I wonder how we ever put that much food away - but we did. Finally the music went on and we danced away til the early hours – and proceeded to repeat the exercise the following day, a bank holiday in the UK, but without the gifts and perhaps a decibel or three quieter.

Yet years later, I can look back and say, “But where was Jesus in all this festivity.” It was commonly believed in those days that by going to the midnight communion service, we had fulfilled our Christian obligations. It was only in later years that we realised that many folk couldn’t have the Christmas we had. We didn’t have much and we couldn’t or wouldn’t see those with less – it was never an issue. That was an issue for the ‘do-gooders’ to worry about – either them or the Salvation Army.

I now realise that we left the very best of Christmas in the church pews on Christmas Eve. I can’t turn the clock back so I now have to further educate my children and grandchildren about the ‘reason for the season’ – Jesus. If you haven’t done so already, may I urge all of us to do the same. Remember that Jesus is the reason for the season. Reach out to some who are in need, elderly perhaps or homeless. Give them the gift of food perhaps, but mainly your time and love every Christmas.

Believe me – it is so worth it. They will really appreciate it and you will love it. Yes – you will. You will love it.