In my older age, I'm getting grumpier and grumpier about the ways society has hijacked Christmas and turned it into a high-stakes spending spree that has virtually nothing to do with the kind of gift-giving that the holy day celebrates. It reminds me of a phrase I heard on National Public Radio recently, when a commentator observed that we are more than ever a nation that thrives on a "vision of abundance."
Simple little example from my own life experience. Cheerios, Rice Krispies, Corn Flakes and maybe one or two generic brands of cereal occupied a small section on an aisle in the grocery store when I was a child. Today, there is an entire aisle of cereals from which to choose. This vision of abundance challenges us in the most routine places of our lives.
Just how much is enough? I find myself turning to that question more and more each Christmas season as I watch the orgy of activity and commercialism that dominates life. The longer I live, the more I realize that in terms of that "vision of abundance," less is what I long for during the holy days of Christmas and beyond.
Call me Scrooge if you like, but if I understand the story of Scrooge at all, I understand that he realized that life is not about things and money, life is not about this "vision of abundance," except where it really matters. Life, the most meaningful life, embraces and cherishes the relationships with people that we are blessed with and the joys we share with them through good times and bad.
Scrooge realizes he did not need the "vision of abundance," to which we as a society have become addicted. Rather, he needed the abundance of love that cannot and will not be qua.jpgied but grows ever more vital to our existence if we understand its power and wonder.
Buried sometimes in the midst of all the makings of a merry holiday season - the gifts, the wrappings, the boxes, the ribbons, the bows, the bags, the food, the parties - are all the unspoken words of love and respect that most of us yearn to hear. Far too often, they are swallowed up in frenzied activity that squelches the quietness of the soul, that part of us that realizes how important people are to us but often cannot or will not find the means to express it.
How do we have time to contemplate the treasure of our relationships in a season and society that mocks quietude? We've fallen victim to the societal trappings of noise and bustle so much that it may even seem unnecessary. But ask anyone who has a new baby this year what material thing could replace the joy of that new life?
Ask anyone who is grieving a loved one this Christmas what material thing could fill that void? Ask anyone who is struggling to overcome an addiction if one more material thing or one more party would mean more to them than an encouraging word and a comforting hug to say "you matter to me." Ask anyone who is dealing with disease whether it's the care and attention they receive from people that makes the real difference.
Christmas, if I understand it at all, is a celebration of the gift of life. Through Jesus Christ, God entered this world to establish a relationship with us by living as one of us. He showed us through word and deed just how much he loved us. He did not lavish us with a "vision of abundance," but he loved us abundantly by giving completely of himself to a world that did not deserve the gift.
Rather than focusing on the "vision of abundance" that permeates our society, perhaps it's time for us all to realize that no material abundance can take the place of love.
Harris Murray is director of library services at Orangeburg-Calhoun Technical College. She can be reached by e-mail at writeharris55@yahoo.com. Discuss this and other stories online at TheTandD.com.