Repent. Rejoice. Rinse. Repeat.

That's the Reason for the Season

The Third Sunday in Advent is called Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete (gow-day-tay) is Latin for “rejoice.” The priests wear celebratory rose-colored vestments to mark the day. The color of the rest of Advent is purple, symbolizing the season of repentance. I mention this to bring focus to the Catholic liturgical calendar, which is a great gift to Catholics, Christians, and non-believers. Sadly, many of the practices, sacrifices, and feasts have been forgotten, with even the basic six seasons of Advent, Christmas, Lent, the Triduum, Easter, and Ordinary time somewhat muted.

Thoughts of the faith and the seasons, and the reasons for the seasons, were in my head when I awakened around 3:00am Monday morning. I spent last week with a friend of fifty years whose wife had died last summer after a long difficult illness (Huntington’s disease). My friend was inspirational as he patiently and joyfully loved and comforted her through the very end. He found a priest in Atlanta from the old neighborhood (Fordham) to give her the final sacrament. I have another friend of “only” thirty years, a daily communicant, who has been on a similar, albeit shorter trial with his wife who has cancer. His faith has always been and continues to be an inspiration to me. His call to update me this weekend lacked the optimism of previous calls, but still projected hope in the ultimate end that awaits.

Another friend of thirty years, and another daily communicant, mourned the death of his younger brother this summer after a very challenging few years with ALS. Today, Monday, I attended the funeral of a brother in faith, a man whose love of the Lord guided his marriage of nearly 60 years, his friendships, his words, and his deeds. My wife represented us at a funeral for the 94-year-old mother of a brother-in-law. Her life was marked by the peace she found in her faith and the joy others found in her humor and warmth.

I thought about, and prayed for, each of them during my period of restlessness, but there was another on my mind.

We had our six-year-old granddaughter and three-year-old grandson with us for Saturday into Sunday. Their NJ-based parents had a party Saturday night, so they got a sitter for the littlest one, and we took the older two for some Advent fun. We viewed the annual Christmas model train village in Spring Lake, which was next door to the fire station showing off its vintage firetruck. On to the Allaire Community Farm where we fed the animals, saw the beautiful lighted trees and Christmas decorations and figures, and sipped some hot chocolate.

At home, we ate, cleaned up, and hunkered down for a couple of seasonal movies. First, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, and then “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Based on their riveted attention and smiles and giggles, it was clear they enjoyed the shows. I did as well. I was struck by the similarity in messaging.

Charlie Brown is distraught by the overt commercialization of the Advent season, particularly as witnessed by the garish prize-winning decoration of Snoopy’s doghouse. He expresses his dismay about his world losing sight of the reason for the season, by crying out, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?” He is answered by Linus taking center stage with a heartfelt rendition of Luke’s Gospel, Chapter 2, verses 8-14, which is the Angel of the Lord declaring to lowly shepherds the arrival of the savior, a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a lowly manger.

Charlie Brown’s friends, who have been mocking and dismissive, are chastened by the reading. Their repentant eyes see Charlie’s lowly tree in a different light. Linus says, “maybe it just needs a little love.” They re-allocate Snoopy’s tacky ornaments and reveal a beautiful and joyful tree after all. When Charlie returns, the friends present the redeemed tree and they all cry out, “Merry Christmas Charlie Brown!” They all sing, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”

Repent. Rejoice!

The Grinch lives high above Whoville, and every Christmas Eve he is reminded about how much he hates Christmas, and how much he hates those joyful little Whos. With his sidekick Max, he endeavors to rob them of Christmas joy by removing what he sees are all its sources: the decorations, the lights, the presents, the feasts. He does so successfully and awaits the moment the Whos will arise and see that their Christmas joy has been stolen. To his dismay, the Whos gathered in the naked town square, bare of its tree he had taken, with joined hands joyfully singing their song of welcome to Christmas.

“How could it be so? It came without ribbons!... it came without tags!... it came without packages, boxes, or bags!” he lamented to Max. Then it hit him. He realized “maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas means a little but more.” Suddenly, Max and the sled with all Whoville’s Christmas trappings were about to crash off the mountain, and the Grinch struggled to save them. “And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say - that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day. And then - the true meaning of Christmas came through, and the Grinch found the strength of *ten* Grinches, plus two.”

The Grinch and his awakened heart ride triumphantly into Whoville making amends, the town welcoming its prodigal son with joyful arms, inviting him to carve the roast beast.

Repent. Rejoice.

After Mass on Sunday, the young family reunited and we shared a wonderful Christmas breakfast celebration at a local club. Our son and his family headed back to Bergen County while we shoveled out of winter’s first snowfall. That evening my bride wanted to watch a movie we had never seen called The Christmas Candle. It was terrific. The residents and pastor of a small town in England are losing the reason for the season, beaten down by the hardships of life and the relentless assault of modernity and all its emphasis on convenience, consumption, and comfort. Tragically, the town had for many generations been the caretaker of a Christmas miracle, but thanks to those same malevolent forces, the memory of the miracle and the faith required to animate it, were nearly extinguished wicks.

Before I give the story away, please allow me to digress to what haunted my sleep.

That same son and his spouse were returning home to attend a wake and funeral. Their friend in life and faith had died. Her name was Kim and her story makes me weep with sadness and joy. She was in the same stage of life as they, praying and trying hard to raise her four children in faith at a time and in a place that is much farther gone than the world of 19^th century England, Charlie Brown, and Whoville. The machine of consumer-driven modernity has mostly snuffed out the light of faith in these/those parts.

Like Charlie Brown and the Whos, Kim and her husband believed in the reason for the season. She embraced the redemptive suffering of Christ so that her family and her friends could see the joy that comes from hope and faith in the transformative love of our Savior.

On this Gaudete Sunday, let’s honor Kim. She is the redeemed tree. Her heart is now magnified by His Sacred Heart. She is the restored town, caretaker of a miraculous faith. Let’s follow that path she illuminated. It’s the same one taken by Charlie Brown’s friends, the Grinch, and (spoiler alert) the Reverend and people of Gladbury.

Repent. Rejoice. Rinse. Repeat.

May perpetual light shine upon Kim, Diane, Donal, Dennis, and Patricia.

May their souls, and all souls of the faithful departed, rest in peace.