I dutifully got out the Christmas tree and set it up this year. And then I kindly and lovingly left the decorations to my beloved bride who knows how to do that well and cares about it. So we have a lovely Christmas tree all set up and shining (you know -- when the timer turns the lights on at night).
Of course, one who is certainly more excited about it than I and likely more interested even than my wife is our cat. She's in heaven. There are all these shiny, dangling things there for the taking. They bob about when she bats at them and even, sometimes, fall onto the ground and roll about so well that she can make hours of fun out of it. At any moment at any time of the day or night we might hear some decoration hit the ground and skitter across the floor as our dear little cat has a blast with a ball from the tree. Oh, yes, my cat loves Christmas.
My wife, on the other hand, isn't so pleased with the kitty's version of loving Christmas. It isn't, in fact, Christmas that she loves. It is the fun. It is the decorations. It is the chance to play with what she likes to play with and obtain for herself the things she wants. She ... oh, wait ... this is starting to sound familiar ...
Isn't this an apt description of humans at Christmas? Is it about Christmas, or is it about the decorations and the gifts? Is it the trappings or is it the Incarnation that we celebrate? Aren't we closer to cats around a Christmas tree than shepherds around a manger? Well, aren't we?
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