Nurturing the Spirit of Christmas

From a distance I saw hands waving, as if beckoning us to come nearer. Then, more hands emerged from the cells… but looking closely, I realized they were actually signs of dirty fingers. My disappointment was increasing, and my OH MY GOD! My Christmas cheer was suddenly drowned in the yells and screams of the inmates.

This was the scene that greeted us more than 10 years ago when one Christmas my mother decided that we go to the rehabilitation center to share the little that we have to the inmates..

I was teary-eyed. I have vehemently protested to the idea that we spend our Christmas there. Yuckkk! The idea, albeit noble, did not appeal to me or to my sisters. But mom insisted that we see Christmas in the eyes of the men and women whose lives have been blemished with crime, whose eyes have been dimmed by frustrations, whose manhood have been scarred by anger and whose hope have been killed by despair.  Will they ever feel the Christmas spirit?

The nasty remarks became louder as we approached them. It was as if it was the first time they get to see “outsiders” after many days of their confinement. They insinuated lust, greed, and thrill -- as if we could finally quench their hunger for that which quite seemed hard to decipher…

My heart went heavy, heavier than the loads of gift my hands were carrying and I am sure, my sisters felt the same or even worse.

The gift giving was an ordeal for us, trying to smile despite our disdain. No, it wasn’t disdain. We loathed it!!! And all those things did not pass unnoticed by Mom, who herself tried to expedite the activity so that we could leave the place as soon as we can.

Upon returning home, we confronted Mom regarding the risk she took for bringing us there.  Amidst the arrogant and rude prisoners, we did not see the spirit of giving or of Christmas.  For when one is assaulted, how can the essence of giving and sharing be felt?

Mom’s reply was simple: if we only love the lovable, that doesn’t make us distinct.

More than a decade had passed and now I work for the reconciliation of people who are divided by their claims of justice or by the assertion of their rights as a Court Annexed Mediator.  I still sigh at the thought of a broken friendship because of a check that bounced or a nasty gossip relayed. I get sad when siblings cannot agree on their inheritance and insist instead on breaking their family ties.  And I am further dismayed when I meet a parent accused for stealing something so she could feed her children.

Then I have come to realize that many of us languish in self-imposed prisons.  For we may be surrounded by people but feel completely alone.  Like those detainees in prison, we find ourselves subjected to undue discrimination, to painful debasement, to harsh and cruel judgment. In the real world, no quantum of evidence is necessary to prove our guilt.  People can be mean.  We become guilty as charged.

At times like these, my thoughts go back to that Christmas morn spent in the penitentiary.  If we love only the lovable, what does that make us? If we shun the world because we feel it owes us a lot, how do we get to see the very reason why God sent His Only Son?

Each of us is significant. Lovable or not before the eyes of men, we are all lovable before the eyes of our Creator.  God does not discriminate.  He even sent His Only Child so we may be saved.  We are THAT significant – to Him. 

The Christmas Spirit is here to stay – because as constant as the rising sun, God’s love for us is also constant.  May that knowledge guide us to doing what we can to spell a beautiful difference in each other’s lives.  Afterall, we all affect each other.  For as John Donne wrote,

“No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main…

…for I am involved in the mankind.

…therefore, send not to know,

for whom the bells toll,

It tolls for thee.”

Happy Christmas everyone!

Nota Bene: This article was written for the Christmas Newsletter of our parish, the St. Michael the Archangel Parish.  Such newsletter is yet to come out sometime this month.  I am posting it here in my blog for posterity and reference.

For Mama

Every Christmas, Mama (my grand-aunt) takes time to make our Belen (tableau) at home.  A perpetual bachelorette, she has devoted much of her life serving the church any way she can.  I grew up to finding her spend many late nights decorating our parish church for Christmas (and yes, also for the Holy Week).  Year after year, she intricately designed the tableau at the altar of our tiny parish.  And every morning, at the dawn masses, she would proudly point to us her work in progress.  True enough, on Christmas day, Mama feels like a celebrant herself, as people flock to the church to pay respects to the Baby Jesus who rests comfortably on the crib which Mama painstakingly made, designed, and decorated.

Now a nonagenarian, Mama cannot see anymore.  But she still gushes at the thought that we have maintained her tradition of a Belen showcasing the Baby Jesus (from Vatican) given to her by a nun-friend many, many years ago. She nags knowing I have yet to make a sash with “Gloria In Excelsis Deo” on it to be hung at the Belen.  And at dawn, we still awake to find her saying her rosary in front of such tableau.

While Christmas may be the season to celebrate the birth of Jesus, I am more inclined to thinking of this season to celebrate the unconditional love we each receive from the people around us. I believe it is the essence of Christ’s birth – God’s unconditional love for humanity and Christ’s unconditional love for His Divine Father which prompted Him to surrender Himself completely to His Will.

Mama is one such woman.  Albeit bereft of a spousal love, she has deviated from the usual spinster-stereotype of a resentful, indignant woman.  She was never bitter about marriage even when her own favorite niece’s marriage didn’t work.   She is all-giving, and maintained a happy and spontaneous disposition even in her old age.  When she was still more mobile, she roamed the houses of her godchildren even  in the far barrios, to greet them on Christmas morning and give her simple present o f a toy or a shirt.  And she found such task undaunting even when it entailed having to collect our very own stock of groceries at home to give to her “less-fortunate” godchildren and friends.

Mama’s simplicity, generosity, and faithfulness continue to stir all those who know her.  She relishes the unexpected visits of friends, grieves silently at the death of another, and vows to pray for the fast recovery of an ailing amiga.  She still sets aside a cracker or a slice of bread to give to an apo who comes to her seeking to be consoled.  And she spends hours and hours and hours each day mumbling her prayers to each of the Saint she maintains in her collection. She explains that those Saints(all of which were given to her as gifts) were given to her for a divine reason. And the least she can do is pay respects to them by praying for them individually. 

She has not let her frail body and bare vision corrupt her disposition to continually spread good cheer to all who surround her.  She eagerly anticipates the Minister who gives her communion every Sunday.  She sits by her grotto and finds a calm delight caressing Mama Mary’s hands. All these she does with complete awareness that she has reached the twilight of her years.

We are glad to have one such woman in our midst.  This Christmas, we bask in the love that can only come from God’s eternal love for us – and for Mama’s unconditional love for us, unwavering faith in the good of all, and her steadfast dedication to the Church. 

Merry Christmas Mama. You are God's gift to us.

Ressurected

Its been a while.  Thanking God I'm back.  

Hoping to hang out here more often henceforth.

=)