a word from robin . dec 2006

stepping out of the vortex

As the holidays descend upon us, I have a wish for all of us: less of everything that doesn't matter and more of everything that does. Less spending, less anxiety, less gift-guilt, less driving, less television, less compulsiveness, less medication, less alcohol, less pretending, less vanity, less conspicuous consumption, less denial over aging, less delusion about perfect children, less hoop-jumping to please parents, less phoniness among friends, less bitterness over enemies.

More gifts of simple presence, more peace of mind, more contentment with what we already have, more walking, more live music, more empty space, more soup, more authenticity, more humility, more down-sizing, more grace, more acceptance of imperfect children, more differentiation from parents, more real conversations with friends, more love of enemies.

The freedom we love to talk about in Western culture includes the freedom to choose to step out of the holiday madness. It includes rejecting the idea that value corresponds to price, and that achievement corresponds to notoriety. It means we can draw names out of a hat and give a single gift to a single family member, and be at peace. It means we can find joy in raking leaves, in rolling dough, in calling our pets in from the cold. Our lives are not a commercial. Our lives are about the consequences of our choices, and the sacraments we make out of our moments.

Post Thanksgiving, do not gently go into the myths of the season, whether the Mayflower or the Manger. But instead, know that all such stories point us toward the Ultimate Mystery, and don’t be confused by the idolatrous times in which we live. The star of Bethlehem hangs over every impossible birth, and the angels that sing have human faces lit from within. 

The radical freedom promised by the rabbi from Nazareth is to walk through a mall and notice the lonesome, not the lovely; to stand up when lies are told and un-tell them; to hold someone’s face in your hands and say, “You matter more than any gadget, U2, or a winning lottery ticket.”

If you put your ear close enough to the ground during the holidays, you won’t hear the approach of the consumer train, but you will hear a distant rumble. It’s the sound of a nation that longs for the return of virtue in a leader and the chance to believe again -- not in fairy tales, but in dignity, not in victory, but in good manners, not in arrogance, but in the redemption of self-sacrifice.

As the vortex of the holidays begins its slow, broad spiral -- step out before you start spinning faster and faster, get some new stationery for hand-written notes.  Clean out your closet and give away everything you haven’t worn for a year.  Write to you Congressperson and tell her that if the money will go for people, and not for war, you’d like to have your taxes raised. 

And when you hear tinny carols playing ad nauseam in the stores until your head feels like bursting, remember you can always head to the exit and call a friend. You can take a walk. You can read a poem out loud and feel the heft and cut of words. You can summon a loved one to the back yard just before supper to see the fiery sunsets of early December. This light is pale, piercing, perfect.

Grace and peace

Robin

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