The worst thing about Christmas is that many years I’ve spent it alone, making it one of the most difficult times of the entire year.
Many people are with family and friends, and if one doesn’t have family or friends, it’s easy to see people around who all look happy. Then, one goes home, all alone.
Everything shuts down, work and everything, and it gets boring. It doesn’t lift till into January.
In the north, the darkness and cold doesn’t help. It’s depressing.
Time can move VERY slowly, as if it were in slow motion, where a short time feels like an absolute eternity. I can want things to get back to normal.
I can wish we could simply fast-forward over the holidays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and New Years.
That’s it! The most difficult thing about Christmas is that it has become a time of year when things are
supposed to be at least a little idyllic for a change. It is meant to be a time that puts light into the darkness, but has become a time when burdens are increased, rather than lifted, because people feel as if they are
expected to magically be happier than they are, to have a better sense of style than they have, more empathy than they have, better interpersonal relations than they have, and an easier time than they are having.
That is an oppressive and pervasive cultural myth. Yes, I can buy that as the reason that the difficult things in life seem harder at Christmas, rather than easier. It is hard to be thankful, when a season relentlessly “promises” so much that it cannot possibly deliver.
Look what is in the Holy Scriptures, surrounding the 1st Christmas: Scandal, poverty, intrigue, danger. A vulnerable young woman, barely more than a girl, at risk for her life for her fiat to God, subjected to an arduous journey, a heartless populace, an oppressive government, bewildering and difficult circumstances, her miracle one that could be attested to only by foreigners and outcasts, her support being a husband who was running on trust in a vision seen in a dream. Even at the Presentation, amid the joy of those very select few in the community of Israel who recognized the unique and utter dignity of her Son, a promise of pain and heartbreak.
Yet amid all of this: Glory. The promise of joy. That is what Christmas is all about, as Linus put it. Yet as Charles Schultz recognized, the season can seem to be stacked entirely against that message becoming the light to us in this vale of tears that it ought to be. Yes, that is the most difficult thing about Christmas; it is the root of all these trials that we perceive as being particularly associated with what ought to be a great and joyous start to our liturgical year, even situated as it is in the darkest time the Northern Hemisphere has.
BTW, remember that “You need involvement. You’ll need to get involved in some real Christmas project” was Lucy’s answer, and Lucy did not get it at all. Even Linus did not get it, at first: “Charlie Brown, you’re the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy’s right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you’re the Charlie Browniest.”
Charlie Brown knew what he was talking about–a sensitive boy, that one. Something was very wrong, and even though he could not put his finger on it, he knew it. He is the one who woke everyone else up to where their Christmas attentions really ought to go.