Chapter 1 Sample: The Advent Ritual
One of my most cherished family traditions that has been passed down through generations involves the Christmas holiday.
I am not sure if this is a common tradition in the Catholic Church practiced by many families, or if it was something unique to our family. I have asked many people about it and they are unanimously confused and have never heard of this tradition. I suspect my mom made it up or learned it from her mom.
Growing up, I couldn’t help but notice that all my friend’s nativity sets had baby Jesus nestled in his manger. Ours did not.
For the month of December, it sat empty until Christmas morning. My mother’s excuse for this empty bed, was that Jesus wasn’t born yet. How could He possibly be in the manger?
As I got a little older, there seemed to be so many implausible parts of the nativity story, it seemed odd to me that she was so obsessed with this one temporal detail.
I suspected she made up the ritual so she didn’t have to fuss with Advent calendars, which I assumed at that age would all involve candy. Or maybe, she simply lost Baby Jesus somewhere in the tree trimming mess. The Irish women of my family are capable of artful lies on the fly, (I love that about them). Her answer about the pretend timing of the pretend plaster baby’s birth was logical enough to satisfy children and move me forward.
It was my duty to carefully rearrange the shepherds and kings. I was the oldest, and charged with bringing these travelers a tiny bit closer to Bethlehem each day.
I remember fixating on that creche with longing for the baby as if staring hard would make Him appear. I can feel the tension growing in me just remembering how hard it was to wait, especially knowing not one other of my friends shared my torment. Jesus was sleeping soundly at their houses.
“How many more days until Jesus is born, Mom?” And she would direct me to the December snow scene calendar, sans candy, to count the days.
Aside from the lying bit, the Irish women in my family know a little something about escalating the drama of any situation. (I love that about them too). The baby laying in the manger all along makes a pretty scene, but my mom’s omission of the leading character made this into a theatrical production - a play that lasted weeks — and I had a serious role to play which I shouldered with commitment and passion.
On Christmas, when she took Baby Jesus, who had been waiting in the junk drawer in the kitchen, she handed him to me — and I had the honor of welcoming our Saviour into the world with more context and solemnity in my heart than any Pope. When I placed him on his mark, He was finally here! It felt to me that the world had changed.
As she did every Christmas, I can still imagine my mom singing O Holy Night, her favorite carol. I still put out her creche every year - and the manger is still empty until Christmas morning.