Yesterday I saw a
decapitated deer carcass by the side of the road of my commute. Deer carcasses
are sadly a frequency by the rural roads I travel to work, but the vehicle that
may or may not have caused the death of this buck did not decapitate him. His
head had been severed by a human. This was obvious to me, even in a glance. Who
would do this for a trophy and leave behind the remains like so much trash for
someone else to clean up?
I was left pondering such
trophy hunting and remembering concern for elephants, gorillas and other
victims of massacre. Then I had to ask myself what kind of trophies I seek.
I had a friend once who
collected Santas. Her home was decorated for Christmas with such abundance of
beauty that one couldn’t help but feel delighted and invited to express the joy
of the season. She had a Christmas tree in every room of her Victorian
gingerbread house. Each room had a theme, and my favorite was the Santa room. The
tree in this room had only Santa Clause ornaments, as did the mantle, the
wreathes, the china set out for an imaginary tea. It may sound like too much, but
it was done for a tour of homes and was just for fun, and it was not overdone
in that context. So I started collecting Santa’s after that. A few years later,
my collection was nearly as complete as hers and my home was on the same tour
and my “Santa Room” was the dining room where another friend loaned me the
matching Santa china to create the sought after abundance. It was fun. It was
pretty. And later I felt overwhelmed packing away all of my Santa trophies and
ended up pondering the warnings that this Santa stuff has gotten out of hand.
Perhaps I can ease my
confusion by learning more about the real St. Nicholas on this his feast day.
St. Nicholas often
traveled on a white horse, or in some versions of the story a donkey like the
Christ child before the nativity, nestled deep in the womb of Mary. He is the
patron saint of various causes, particularly travelers. It was the sailors who
first claimed him as their saint and told stories about him from port to port.
This was the beginning of the oral tradition of a great man of God who followed
Christ’s commandment to care for the poor, the widows and children, orphaned or
not.
There is so much more to
learn about the
real St. Nick. In this way I can sort through the greed and find gratitude
for the truth. I am grateful for my safe travels through these lovely Virginia
mountains each day. I am grateful too for the many lovely ways we celebrate the
Christ Mass. Practicing gratitude did not stop after Thanksgiving for me and
this has enhanced my spiritual practice for Advent.
A couple of weeks ago I
sold the last of my Santa china. I
still have a couple of my grandmother’s Santa’s packed away somewhere but for
now my home is empty of any Christmas décor. We are celebrating the emptiness
of Advent here, preparing and waiting and this year so far Advent has been more
meaningful for it thanks in part to the thoughts of others like Sharon
Autenrieth and Pamela
Dolan.
Still, we must remember
to pull out the decorations when the time comes. We must remember to practice
joy. In spite of the fact that all the children in my life have grown past the
age of Santa or elves on shelves, I must remember to spend some time with
children, and widows, and the poor for this is the best way to celebrate the life
of St. Nicholas, bishop of Myra and also the best way to celebrate the coming
of God incarnate.
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