BRING out the Christmas wreath; trim the heirloom Christmas tree; string out the tiny lights all over the windows, Christmas is near, very near.
Load the table with every type of victual the surgeon general and the medical specialist might tell you to avoid. “But come on, Doc, it’s only once a year. I’ll only eat a matchbox size of everything, including the dreaded fruitcake, and a cup of whatever beverage we have.”
Go ahead. Cover the table with lechon roll or a kilo or two of the traditional pig. Don’t forget the leg of ham, macaroni salad, spaghetti; don’t spare your tummy anything it craves. Christmas is a die-licious excuse to indulge ourselves until we look like stuffed turkey for roasting.
What a season. We even thank Santa for the good things we have in life. Wait! We have forgotten to thank the guy whose birthday we commemorate on Dec. 25, although the historical month and date of His birth are unknown.
The word Christmas comes from his name: Christ and mass, or Christ’s mass. How amazing and mysterious still it is to us that our big God—imagine, His throne is in heaven and the earth His footstool—should send to us his only son to save us from our wretchedness and sin.
Jesus Christ is divine but He took in true form and substance the human body so He could dwell among us, and die as the perfect substitute for the punishment we deserve. He invites us to call on Him and although He is big, He can make Himself small enough to stay in our hearts so we can carry Him everywhere we go.
Christmas would be useless and meaningless if we take away Christ from it. So let’s thank the birthday boy for all He has done for us. As we go drinking and making merry, let’s offer time to Jesus whom the prophet Isaiah called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father and Prince of Peace. Indeed, merry is Christmas now.