The Light and Darkness of Holidays

Holidays used to be known as Holy Days (Old English – halig daeg). They offered people a chance to look at their lives, figure out what they didn’t like about them, listen to spiritual guidance, make changes, and head off energized with a fresh wind and filled with hope. But we have shifted the observances into another excuse to spend money and indulge in excess. 

Besides Christmas, other religions and cultures have observances in this time of year like the Jewish Hanukkah, the African American Kwanzaa, and the Winter Solstice. They acknowledge miracles, affirm core values, celebrate traditions and ancestors, and acknowledge the changing beauty of the seasons. The theme of light is common in many of them.

 

Advent in the Christian Church began in the 5^th century and was a period of penance and fasting. In some Christian churches today, the weeks of Advent focus on the darkness in the world, of waiting, of acknowledging the plight of refugees, the dispossessed and the oppressed, the hungry and poor, and those in despair trying to hold on to hope that their lives will get better some day. Celebrations were reserved for Christmas Eve and Day. In other churches, pronouncements of joy and celebration begin on the first Sunday in Advent and continue all month.

 

If we lost someone this year, the holidays are going to be traumatic. We won’t want to celebrate anything, and all the happiness being thrown around like confetti will only push us further into our dark rooms. What we want is for the holidays to be over, and we will ignore them as best as we can.

 

If you haven’t lost someone this year, pause in the rush of your daily life to listen to where your heart is grieving, to where you feel broken or defeated. Sit and listen for what is missing in your life.

 

Although celebrations this year will be muted, in previous years we have hurried around buying sleighloads of presents, partied too much, eaten too much, and by the time the actual holiday arrived we were exhausted. If we didn’t get along with everyone in our family, this was the time when arguments tended to break out, and we ended up not speaking to each other for another year.

 

Is this what we want from our holidays? For many of us, it is. Yet, there is a nagging feeling in the back of our hearts that we want something more. Something that lasts longer.

 

On the surface, the secular versions of the holidays do proclaim that JOY exists among us. And while there is a surge of good will as people step up and help others in our community, this cooperation ends in the new year. This year we desperately need to hear some good news as the year comes to its troubled and weary end; good news that won’t fade away.

 

We feel LONGING for something deeper than what we are finding in our daily lives. It’s the longing that people throughout the centuries have felt in these dark months of the year. Many of us will observe ancient rituals and traditions that affirm that HOPE still exists, even in the midst of so much unrest, that the miracle of the candles is real, and that if we work for what is true and just, we can help to usher in a brighter future.

 

For those who have lost someone, whether it’s a spouse, friend, parent, or child, the happy messages on TV and radio constantly remind us that someone we loved is not going to be here to celebrate with us. The holiday specials, festive songs, special foods, scents, and decorations, even the crisp feel of the air can bring back memories that this year we don’t want to face.

 

The best gift we can give to friends who are grieving is to not insist that they be happy. Allow them time to sit in quiet, or read, or walk alone as they try to keep their sorrow at bay. They can’t set their grief aside just because it’s the holidays. And rather than gathering in person to support them, you can chat with them on Zoom or over the phone. You can leave meals on their doorsteps so they don’t feel forgotten. You can put lights in your windows to remind yourself, and those who pass by on the street, that the LIGHT of hope still shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

            

If you are grieving, be kind to yourself. There are no expectations that you have to fulfill. There are no shoulds. Do what nurtures you. Today and again tomorrow.