If you missed the first part of this series, go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

Christmas Eve
As a Sunday School teacher for some 25 years, I used to tell my kids, “Thanksgiving is not about eating turkey, Easter is not about the Easter bunny and Christmas is not about Santa Claus.”  As hard as those lessons were to get across to a young boy, my parents, Dolly and Lyman, worked constantly to instill the proper concepts in both my brother and me.

I think, remembering back, that they were both pretty smart about it.  In the build of anticipation towards Christmas morning, they kept Christmas Eve as the sacred occasion.  It was not a night of opening presents, usually just one and that one a boring one like socks from Nana or underwear from Uncle Dick.  There was always last minute wrapping involved, but always, the greater portion of the evening was spent discussing or exploring the true meanings of Christmas.

The birth of Jesus was not forgotten.  It was my mom who made sure of this.  We were not allowed to go out to parties and out with our friends.  This was a family night and a night for only family.  I never minded this.  It was just the way it was done.  Besides, I loved being with my family.  My brother was my hero, my mom was always my best friend and my dad was, well… Dad.  They were always enough.

I don’t ever really remember reading from the Bible, but, again looking back, I see how Mom always steered the conversations back to the birth of Jesus, the healings, the greatest story ever told.  If speculations of Jesus being an alien visitor came up, which they often did back in the Flying Saucer Fifties, Mom was always there to steer us back on to the right track.  Her point was always, “I don’t care where he came from or whether he truly lived or not, this is what he said and this is what he did.”  She would then quote from the Sermon on the Mount or from one of his healings and we’d be off and discussing the miracles and the nature of the man.

She always made it fun.  It wasn’t a forced march through the Bible passages, but instead a bull session about the wonders of his love or the true meaning of angels or the virgin birth as we sat around wrapping presents.  Mom, once when she was in her twenties, had a job wrapping presents for Marshall Fields Department Store in Chicago, so she was as persnickety about present wrapping as Dad was about tree decorating.  They had to be just so.  The time and effort that one put into the wrapping was just as important as the gift itself.  It was a part of the giving and had to be done right.

And of course there was always milk and cookies, or hot chocolate and cookies.  Mom always made Bourbon Balls and though neither Mom nor Dad “drank”, Bourbon Balls were one of her Dolly’s Christmas Specialties.  She would haul out a tin of Bourbon Balls and Jim and I were allowed two apiece.  I never really liked the things – they were pretty strong – but ate them with mock relish because then Jim and I were then able to stumble around for the next 5 minutes acting drunk as skunks talking about Jesus in slurred drunken stupors and finally passing out on the couch.  This was a regular Christmas Eve event.

So the sacredness of the evening was light, fun, not imposed upon us, but definitely a big part of the spirit of Christmas.  To this day I pretty much reserve each Christmas Eve for some form of spiritual search or remembrance regarding the true spirit.

The Christ in Christmas was not forgotten.  It was taught within the experience of life, never an enforced homework or study moment, but taught as a natural part of the emotional build-up of anticipation towards the celebration of this man’s life and birth.  Jesus was an example of what we were to reach for in life.  How would Jesus have thought this through?  What would Jesus have done?  What would Jesus have said, instead.  He was the exemplar.  He was the real leader in our family.

But more than talking about the man, Jesus, we talked about the Christ.  As I grew up I began to be able to differentiate between the man, Jesus, and what he did or what he brought or taught or even left behind.  And that I came to understand was the Christ, the true spirit of the man, the true spirit of the occasion.  It was the Christ that our family shared when decorating Dad’s tree and it was the Christ that was our joy at winning the blue ribbons and it was the Christ that we shared in the giving and receiving of Christmas morning.

And finally, it was the Christ that I took into my heart and have carried with me all these years.  It is the Christ that motivates me to give the $20 bills to the beggar on the street or the special gift to a neighbor who has it a bit tough.  It is the Christ that I shared with my own child in trying to build in him the real sense of Christmas.  It is the Christ that I try to share with you in the writing of this blog.  It is the Christ-mass, the celebration of the Christ that I carry with me every day that directs me to be my better self, that governs me in all my endeavors, that enables me to write my music and give proper direction to our artists.  It is the Christ that makes me who I am and this is what I celebrate this Christmas.  It comes out in a myriad of ways, but the essence, if it is my goodness and my purity, is always that of the Christ.

Jesus may be no longer on this plane, but he left with us the most important part, the Christ, the true reflection of God.  Herein lies, for me, the true spirit of Christmas.

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