When It's a Not-So Wonderful Life

Christina Betta

The classic song that I can clearly hear sung by Bing Crosby rings out “may your days be merry and bright and all your Christmases be white.” Now in Baltimore we rarely have white Christmases but every year I know I have an expectation of how merry and bright I expect my Christmas season and my Advent preparation to be. Fulfilling all the yearly traditions, watching all the classic films, prayerfully preparing my heart during the Advent season, these all feel like givens. But as those who went to 10:30am mass at the Basilica of the Assumption were reminded by Fr. Jim Bors this past Sunday, we need to take a deeper listen to the classic Advent hymn of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.”

O Come, O Come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears.

We love (myself included) to go to the chorus and belt out “Rejoice!” but we are missing a key element of the hymn and the real reason for Christmas. Words like captive and ransom speak of the bondage of Israel, a real physical bondage they experienced in slavery in Egypt, exile in Babylon and now oppressive Roman rule. As a citizen of a country that has thankfully not experienced this type of oppression, it is hard to fully understand their experience. However, the longing for a true and lasting freedom tends to be universal. The longing for one to break in and defend them would be the ultimate proof of love to the Israelites. Little did they expect the meek carpenter who asked them to love their enemies and pray for persecutors. We will ultimately find, as the story of salvation unfolds, that God’s plan for freedom is a freedom that goes all the way down to our core and frees us from the power of sin and death, which oppress the very image of God written into our being.

So now that Jesus has broken into time, we are free from all oppression and live in perfect freedom, right? Absolutely not unless you are deluding yourself. The oppression may look different depending on the person. Some may actually face persecution for their faith, others may struggle with mental illness especially in the dark days of winter, others may just feel the anxieties and burden of life. But when I feel those anxieties creep in or my chest tighten, I hear the words of Jesus to Martha “There is need of only one thing.” That is the difference between us and the Israelites, is that we have access to that one thing or rather that one Person. The one thing that they yearned for. The one who brings us his mercy in the confessional, his very self in the Eucharist, new life in the waters of baptism. And yet sometimes, despite our best efforts, despite faithfully and prayerfully receiving the sacraments, we still can feel a creeping sadness.

That brings us to the other words in this verse that speak of mourning in lonely exile. The Israelites were a people familiar with mourning. They experienced brutal slavery in Egypt, forty years of wandering in the desert, the splitting of their nation and exile to name a few. Frequently calling themselves God’s chosen people, I wonder how many outsiders scoffed at their words, wondering at what kind of God would treat His people this way. Maybe it was better not to be chosen. How could a good and loving God allow this? How could God allow his people to have free will to choose a path other than Him and thus reap the consequences? As many saints have taught us, physical realities usually highlight a deeper spiritual reality. When we turn from God who is Goodness, Truth, Beauty itself, we inevitably find Evil, Lies and Ugliness. We find ourselves not with God who is Love but with ourselves in a self-absorbed heap of misery, the ultimate isolation.

But this brings up the very real fact that many people who are faithfully living and loving God and others are still experiencing a painful sense of loneliness this holiday season. After all, not every Israelite chose to walk away from God. Sometimes this may be from choices we made or choices others have made. Sometimes this may be the loss of a loved one, who was seemingly stripped away from us for no obvious reason. Yet in all these varied causes of mourning, we still have a choice, a choice of who to turn to.

Last Christmas was the first I can ever recall where I genuinely did not feel the holiday spirit. If you asked me why, I wouldn’t be able to give you a reason. I felt distant from God with no real desire to rejoice. I tried to follow the typical holiday itinerary items hoping they would spark some of the typical Christmas zeal. I remember clearly feeling guilty for not being joyful and this would continue the cycle of trying to muster up some further joy on my own. Until I got to Christmas Eve mass and prayed with a desperation I hadn’t felt in a long time. A desperation to feel, to feel loved, to feel joy, to feel embraced and known. A desire to honestly just have Christ break into my heart. Forget the presents, the traditions, the expectations, I just wanted Christ at that point. And after loving and being loved by so many babies in my life, I just wanted to hold the babe, to see Him and be seen by Him. That was enough.

My prayer this Christmas season is that you will allow Him to be enough. Despite the commercialism, the expectations of yourself or others, just let this simple babe be enough. Bring him the burdens and oppressions in your life. Bring him the sharp loneliness and just be present to Him. I’m not going to make any grand promises of healing. We tend to exaggerate the healing that Christ provides. After all, he still bore glorified wounds on his body. The one promise I will make is that when you make that prayer of utter desperation, God will be there.

So if you aren’t feeling like watching “A Christmas Story” for the 1000th time on TBS or you’re tired of the tree in your living room dropping needles everywhere, don’t stress. Don’t cover your wounds. Allow yourself to pray the same desperate prayer of the Israelites. Allow yourself to feel the need for a Savior, a Prince of Peace, God with us. Then will we truly rejoice. Not a superficial joy but a deep, abiding joy we may never have experienced in any Christmas before.

Christina Betta keeps on thinking and writing for us, when she isn’t busy offering excellent veterinary care to our spoiled dogs.