By Fr. Rich Vitale

The holiday season is upon us, but much to our disappointment, COVID-19 remains an unwanted party guest as a year steeped in trauma begins its concluding chapter. While my heart has managed to find some measure of holiday cheer, the joy is tempered by the various woes of our day. Our traditions are upended, travel plans cancelled, and the holiday might be a little leaner as we contend with continued financial hardships. Many of us are questioning whether or not we should gather with family and friends, and if we do get together with those we love, those encounters come with a certain level of uneasiness and guilt, with conversations centering around the pandemic, politics, and the litany of other tragedies the year has brought.

This season is nothing if not a holiday disrupted, but we also know that positive change and growth often come on the back of such disruptions. Perhaps this is a chance for us to find new meaning in a too-often-rote tradition. For me, I view this as an opportunity to go back to the source material of this most magical time of the year and see what it has to say.

For Christians we are all familiar with the tale of Mary and Joseph, who traveled 90 miles on the back of a donkey to Bethlehem in Judea for a census, the child Jesus growing in the womb of The Blessed Mother. The Christ Child is born in a stable and lain in a manger, when there was no available room at the inn, even for a pregnant mother. Three Magi come from the east to honor The Child as Priest, Prophet, and King, but leave in the knowledge that cruel King Herod, the regional ruler appointed by Caesar Augustus, wishes the child dead.

The story of Chanukah has a similar tone and feel to it. The Greek Empire has conquered and profaned the Temple of God. They’ve constructed an altar to Zeus and are sacrificing pigs there, an animal the Hebrews consider unclean and an affront. The valiant Maccabees cast out the invaders and restore the Temple, and a single day’s worth of all important Menorah oil miraculously lasts for 8 nights until a new reserve can be found.

When these stories are retold today, they often have a very happy, pastoral, and joyful tone to them. We imagine children in their little bathrobes and pillowcase cowls playing the parts, with smiling sheep looking on. But, if we really stop and think about it, the stories are anything but blissful. They are stories about overcoming oppression, poverty, inhospitality, brutishness, and danger. Rings a bell, doesn’t it?

As such, I’m choosing this year to add a new facet to the spirit of the season, namely bravery. Surviving 2020 has not been for the faint of heart, just like the events of the stories we commemorate. Our heroes were above all else brave in the face of extraordinary adversity, trusting in the beauty of their cause.

So, let us remember that all along this was never meant to be a season of unhinged consumerism, but of poverty of spirit. It was not meant to be a season of royal feasts, but of humble celebration. It was meant to be a time of joy, but only in as much as that joy came from within and above, not because of perfect circumstances or the certainty of a secure future. So this year, let it be a time of bravery as we work together to overcome the relentlessly unfair circumstances of a less than banner year.