I don’t go around trumpeting the Christmas season like some of my friends.
I do get excited, but of late I don’t join in the over-excitement of the season as I once did. Truth be told, based on the sheer significance of the occasion, I prefer Easter.
I am thankful for the birth of Christ but I am more heartened by His death. The finality of death cannot be an easy thing to face.
On the other hand, it appears as though anyone can get excited at the birth of a baby; the bright hope for tomorrow.
Observe how we react to the news of a pregnancy, planned or unplanned. By the time the child makes its entry, all the previous ado disappears and there’s much fussing over the latest addition.
Watch the politicians on their campaigns and one of the first things they do is grab the nearest cutie pie for that “aww” factor. Babies with their chubby cheeks, smooth skins and adorable smile have that irresistible appeal. The Christ Child is at the centre of the season even though some other myths have been injected into the celebration.
It is easy to feel compassion for a child born into lowly means and to look to spare them hardship. For example, whenever there is a hard-luck story appearing on our news pages and they involve children, one of the first things our readers will say is that they are responding because of the children.
With a child there is always hope.
Compare the above reaction to other hard-luck stories we carry on the adults. There is not always an instant outpouring of mercy. If anything, some of the social media comments are lacking in feeling initially and they question the adult’s history, socialisation and family.
They will respond to human beings in need but sometimes the approach varies and picks up speed once a child is involved. So it is not hard to see how Christmas, outside of the Christian realm, could have a warming effect on most.
Easter, on the other hand, is asking the adults to face the notion of death. Death and its finality is an area most don’t like to confront. And death, as a brutal punishment, in unwarranted circumstances makes us cringe to the extreme.
Therefore Easter is not celebrated in the outside world with the gusto that accompanies Christmas. The streets and houses are not lined with glittering, colourful decorations or lights, the air is not filled with an expectancy of receiving in abundance, neither is there excessive feasting.
There is a more sombre atmosphere. Restraint is the watchword. There is fasting over feasting and our approach is one of contrition. There’s a greater poignancy in the word crucifixion; it does not roll off the tongue as easily or as happily as Christmas.
That being the case, though, in the spirit of the season I am glad to wish many Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
To those who are brave enough to stomach my musings almost weekly, may you find a measure of peace in something that I have written. To those who disagree with some of my observations or principles, may you too find peace even it means avoiding my column as a trigger.
I really do appreciate all that is said and in case anyone believes that I am offended by your disagreeing with me, I am not. Ask Anita Delph.
Thank you, Lionel Toppin, for the kind words regarding one of my columns.
Earlier in the year on my trip to Panama with the Combermere Foreign Language Club, on the return day I was not feeling well. I benefited from the goodness of many on that trip: the Belgraves, Candace, Mrs Vaughan, the Rocks, Olivia, the Workmans, Grace, Susan, Monica and the Reece clan. There are others who I know I have missed. Merry Christmas, Panama crew.
To Omar, thanks for being the subject of The Price Of A Ride, making that particular account of our experience one of the more popular columns.
Merry Christmas, readers!
Antoinette Connell is a News Editor. Email [email protected]
