Treasuring our Christmas memories

A Reflection for the Nativity of the Lord, Christmas Mass at Dawn

Find today’s readings here.

Think about all the Christmas memories that you and your family cherish and return to over and over again through the years.

Many of my core childhood memories of Christmas involve my grandparents’ house in Buffalo, where the extended family would gather. My grandfather, who loved tradition, followed the old German tradition of decorating the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. The lights he used had large screw-in bulbs, rather than the small jewel lights more common today, as well as “bubbler” lights that looked like candles, big enough to require individual wiring to the branches. 

The tree was also decorated with real tinsel, which, research informs me, stopped being available in 1972 due to it being made out of a lead alloy. 

What I remember from childhood—and plenty of family stories of uncles and aunts who participated in the process—was that because it could not be replaced, it was laid on the tree, and then removed from the tree, strand by individual strand. 

The living room where the tree stood also had a large fireplace and mantel, and one of my favorite bits of Christmas tradition was the slow development of the Nativity scene over the course of Advent. The figurine of baby Jesus, of course, could not appear until after midnight Mass. Even after he was safely laid in the manger, the Magi (and of course their camel) continued their slow march across the mantel, finally reaching the stable on Epiphany.

If you happen to hear the readings for the Mass at Dawn today—though there are plenty of other possibilities in the Lectionary—you will hear Luke tell us that “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

In his final encyclical, “Dilexit Nos,” or on the Sacred Heart, Pope Francis referenced this verse in Luke to explain how the heart works on our own memories and histories:

The heart is also capable of unifying and harmonizing our personal history, which may seem hopelessly fragmented, yet is the place where everything can make sense. The Gospel tells us this in speaking of Our Lady, who saw things with the heart. She was able to dialogue with the things she experienced by pondering them in her heart, treasuring their memory and viewing them in a greater perspective. (No. 19)

What strikes me reading this passage again is that the keeping or treasuring of these memories is a necessary precondition to reflecting on them or making any greater meaning out of them. In order to be able to see them for what they really mean, first we have to keep them because they are ours, given to us by those who have loved us.

So too with what God gives us: We will not know what it means at first, nor all at once. The Magi march slowly to the Epiphany where the full revelation of God in Christ is recognized, and for many of us it will take longer than the 12 days from December 25 to January 6. But in order to be ready to recognize God’s gift when we can, we start by treasuring it because it is given to us in love, keeping it and keeping our hearts open to it.

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